The Quickness

Roc Marciano's Marcberg

by J. Edward Keyes

In Marcberg, the '90s never ended. There are still bad deals going down under pale Brooklyn streetlights and bodies washing up in the Hudson. An old VHS recording of Scarface flickers on a thousand apartment TV sets. And hip-hop is still made from sanded-down soul loops threaded over woofer-beating bass, topped with a heavy-lidded vocal delivery that indicates more hours spent with rolling paper than writing paper.

That a record so fully realized and bearing such a distinct voice could come seemingly out of nowhere is surprising — these days, most "overnight" success stories are the result of connected friends, persistent parents or a secret history wood-shedding in Christian rock. But Roc Marciano's résumé is minor at best: one verse on Busta Rhymes' Anarchy, a string of unnoticed guest verses on indie hip-hop records, not much else. And while Marcberg probably won't rescue him from relative anonymity — it was released on the small New York indie FatBeats in May and is only now starting to generate a small level of buzz — it is still an alarming debut: focused, razor-sharp and singular, a contender for one of the year's best.

It works mostly because Marciano clings so fiercely to his vision — he produced the entire album himself and, save for a few split-second guest shots, his voice dominates. "Whateva Whateva" is built on nothing more than a bloated bassline and tiny trickles of guitar — plenty of space for Marciano to huff out a dizzying crime narrative over top. "Raw Deal" is even better, a scorched funk guitar lick looping over and over, Marciano packing a gun in his London Fog and checking over his shoulder for those who would dethrone him. And where other attempts to capture the sound of mid-'90s hip-hop come off forced and embarrassing, Marcberg succeeds to such an incredible degree it's hard to believe it was recorded anytime in the last 10 years. It's tough and addicting, a record for nostalgics and newcomers alike.

(j_keyes@citypaper.net)