Magic & Loss
Twenty-five years ago, Big L’s The Big Picture was released posthumously, as a living testament to his enduring brilliance
by Tony Gervino
On a Thursday night in late February, ‘95, Lamont “Big L” Coleman accepted an invitation to freestyle on The Stretch Armstrong & Bobbito Show, on WKCR 89.9 FM—which was a right of passage for New York rappers. Those of us old enough to remember sat with radios glued to our ears for one of the most iconic moments in hip-hop history.
Rappers having their lyrical acumen tested in real time has always been commonplace, so Big L was happy to oblige the request. The twist was that he invited another performer to freestyle alongside him which meant that, like it or not, Stretch and Bob would be hosting an unofficial competition.
Even though Big L was already established in the New York metropolitan area as a fearsome freestyler not to be trifled with, the other young rapper, Shawn “JAY-Z” Carter, was still growing his own rep as a sly lyricist with a laconic delivery, and was in the midst of recording his debut album, Reasonable Doubt. Perhaps you've heard of it.
L went first, casually going for a first-round knockout:
Yo, I got slugs for snitches, no love for bitches
Puttin' thugs in ditches when my trigger finger itches
I got a rep that make police jet, known to get a priest wet
I never beg for pussy like Keith Sweat
Although Jay eventually held his own, exhibiting early evidence of the layered rhyme schemes that would make him a billionaire (Brothers can beg and borrow, still feel sorrow/When Jay, Z like Zorro, get in that ass/Better luck tomorrow), that radio appearance did more to cement Big L’s legacy than anything else, before or since.
Near the end of the show, Big L flexed memorably:
Big L is that nigga you expect
To catch wreck on any cassette deck
I'm so ahead of my time, my parents haven't met yet
After Big L released his debut EP, ‘95’s Lifestylez of da Poor & Dangerous on Columbia Records, and people devouring the independent tracks he would periodically drop, the city’s lyrical heart would be carved up by him and Nas (however, the Queensbridge rapper famously told Funkmaster Flex that Big L’s talent scared him “to death.”) The similarities between the two generational talents are obvious—a sharp eye for detail, an unsparing ability to discuss a life of crime without overtly glorifying it, and a confident delivery that radiated truth in every word.
For the next several years, as he worked on his followup record, Big L began to grow into the spiritual progeny of Kool G Rap —the most respected street rapper of all time. Period, end of discussion.
So much was expected of Big L and therefore, so much was lost on February 15, ‘99, five short years after the radio show performance.
On that date, Big L was murdered, shot nine times in his head and chest near where he lived in Harlem, while in the midst of recording The Big Picture, a landmark album that was posthumously released on August 1, '00. The mood in and around the mecca of hip-hop was already funereal; and along came a message from beyond the grave to reinforce how unfair life could be. Anyone who knew anything about hip-hop was devastated, having only begun to heal after the murders of Biggie and Tupac from several years earlier.
Here was an artist clearly in his creative ascendancy, with a talent for writing that was so mercurial he’d sent music journalists back to their thesauruses to find new ways to describe his work. Big L was next and The Big Picture was going to get him there. A hail of bullets from an anonymous shooter cruelly ensured that he would never live to see it released.
It was nowhere near finished, but there were enough recorded gems, vocal tracks, and beats to plot a way forward. Rich King, Big L’s manager and co-founder of his independent record label enlisted the help of N.Y.C. hip-hop superfriends (G Rap, Pete Rock, DJ Premier, Lord Finesse, Showbiz, Sadat X, Fat Joe, Guru, and Big Daddy Kane) as well as an appearance from the late Tupac Shakur (on “Deadly Combination”) to fill in sonic blanks.
The Big Picture was met with critical acclaim and a shit-ton of tears from fans who struggled to separate Big L’s genius from the overwhelming loss to the culture.
Despite the manner in which it was created, the album is surprisingly cohesive. It sounds less like a posthumous “duets” album (which was the fear) than it does like a vibrant hip-hop record with varied production sounds. It debuted at No. 13 on the Billboard 200 and No. 2 on Billboard’s hip-hop charts and was certified gold three months after its release.
The standout track and, one could argue, one of the greatest tracks in hip-hop history was the ingenious “Ebonics (Criminal Slang),” which had already been released to the streets a year earlier, but was simply too good not to include on the album. On the track, Big L translated slang terms for a hip-hop audience that was increasingly white and suburban. While that conceit could come off as condescending, or hackneyed, given the racial politics it skirted, Big L played it straight.
Your bankroll is your poke, a choke hold is a yoke
A kite is a note, a con is an okey-doke
And if you got punched that mean you got snuffed
To clean is to buff, a bull scare is a strong bluff
I know you like the way I'm freakin' it
I talk with slang and I'ma never stop speakin' it
It’s difficult to project how successful Big L would have been had he lived, but The Big Picture certainly paints a tantalizing picture. Lamont Coleman was wired differently than his peers and so there’s a very good chance he would've dragged a lot of other rappers outside of their comfort zones and we’d all be the better for it.
