1997: Capone-n-noreaga, The War Report
By Stephen Hicks
This is dedicated to my brother, Brandon.
In 1997, hip-hop was still reeling from the two drive-by assassinations of 2PAC and The Notorious B.I.G. This moment held mourning, chaos, and opportunity. A number of artists were vying for the King(s) of New York moniker. At the time, the Queens borough was a nucleus: Mic Geronimo, Mobb Deep, Nas, Lost Boyz, and Onyx were all riding high, getting heavy rotation. From the Virginia suburbs, I witnessed the magic, courtesy of BET’s Rap City and the Ron G. and DJ Clue mixtapes my big cousins would play around me. I was just a pre-teen, and I was enthralled.
Mixtapes were aplenty back then. So were official album releases. Two guys from Queens were preparing their debut. When the proverbial “we” speak of rap albums of that decade, Capone-N-Noreaga’s The War Report isn’t mentioned enough in the same breath as Midnight Marauders, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), or The Infamous. It doesn’t get the proper recognition of say, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx … and doesn’t get placed on arbitrary greatest rap albums lists. That doesn’t matter. A hip-hop head worth an iota of credibility can vouch for this album. Moreover, they can confirm The War Report is a close cousin to those aforementioned albums in the pantheon of NYC rap albums of the ‘90s. If we prefer not to be revisionist, we’d call this album grossly slept-on upon release, along with its compadres Da Dirty 30 from CRU & Ghetto Millionaire from Royal Flush. And though slept-on, the album marinated quite nicely in our hearts and minds while catapulting the lives of two gentlemen, Victor Santiago, Jr. and Kiam Holley, into the legal life.
The War Report traverses dunn language, crack spot stories, Middle East geopolitics, and nods to the Nation of Gods and Earths. Most importantly, the album serves us an inside glimpse of how two Black men are navigating the streets and swiftly dodging the ever-present hand of the criminal justice system. The album starts with them encouraging each other – reminiscent of Raekwon and Ghostface Killah’s “grow like a plant” moment on The Purple Tape. The distinction: Capone and Noreaga feel like the last two of their cloth. The reality: they are few in number. Everyone else is locked up.
L-Murder, Doe Boy, Real Rell, Nitty, Monte, Lebanon, Little Worm, and Little Juwan.
The chain remains. Just the origin story of how Capone and N.O.R.E. met each other informs us. They both spent their teenage years at Spofford. Going into adulthood, they were both serving respective prison bids at Green Haven Correctional Facility in upstate New York. Capone was from Queensbridge, the largest housing project in the U.S. located in Long Island City. Noreaga, who goes by N.O.R.E. today, was from neighboring Lefrak City. They clicked playing basketball on the prison yard. There was no vision for a rap duo. That didn’t arrive until they both got paroled and were back in Queens. They got up again and discovered they had rap aspirations. Tragedy Khadafi (once known as Intelligent Hoodlum), a rap veteran with two albums to his credit, urged them to cut a demo under his production company, 25 To Life Entertainment. They got busy and made their rounds on Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito. That tape scored them the “Unsigned Hype” column in The Source and a record deal with Penalty/Tommy Boy Records. Tragedy served as their Quincy Jones.
Fed up with Black rap artists romanticizing Italian mobsters in hip-hop, Tragedy wanted to ground things in the East. Lefrak became Iraq. Queensbridge became Kuwait. This extended what The Gods and Earths established: Harlem as Mecca, Brooklyn as Medina. Capone and N.O.R.E. constructed street rap without frills or esoteric concepts. Three verses and a hook were optional. Not formulaic in the songwriting approach but there’s even a blatant attempt to strike rapport with the ladies on a D’Angelo sample chop on “Capone Bone.” The production line-up is hefty. Marley Marl, EZ Elpee, Lord Finesse, Havoc, Buckwild, Charlemagne, and two members of Puffy’s Hitmen outfit: Carlos “Sixth July” Broady and Nashiem Myrick man the boards. It was Myrick who blessed C-N-N with their immediate smash “T.O.N.Y (Top of New York).” While recording the album, Capone violated his parole and was sent back to prison. This mounted pressure on N.O.R.E. to complete the album without his partner. Tragedy fills the noticeable void. Imam T.H.U.G., Mussolini, Troy Outlaw and others make guest appearances namely on “Iraq (See The World).”
Almost without dispute, the album’s most touching song is “Live on Live Long.” N.O.R.E. pens a missive to his friend and rhyme partner. He wastes no time: “I know you left and going up creek soon / You know my address, God / Write me letters, keep me in tune.”
The War Report serves as a reminder of how ever-present the prison industrial complex is in many Black males' lives. That was vital for a suburban kid who was going to soon embark on a world that consigned his brother and some of his classmates to the school-to-prison pipeline. I’m from the cohort of ‘80s babies splattered with the label “super-predator.” Instead of resources, adults offered ridicule, demerits, and suspensions. They skipped patience and rushed toward punishment, built prisons, and chose tough love and zero tolerance. In many respects, the grown-ups failed us. Yes, the suburbs had more polish than the projects but something insidious was happening to the Black kids there too. My brother, Brandon, and many others were casualties. Mom stressed to us: Don’t Become A Statistic – another Black male locked up. Despite her best wishes, some of us caught misdemeanors and felonies in our rites of passage toward Manhood. Capone and N.O.R.E. gave face and voice to the statistic. They also etched a successful trajectory after exiting The Belly of The Beast.
The inclusion of the two recorded phone calls from prison was a masterful idea. You hear directly from Capone. Jungle, Nature, Nas, and E. Money Bags -- longtime friends from his neighborhood – are on the other side. Capone updates Jungle on who from around-the-way is locked up with him. This moment isn't as artistic as "One Love" from Nas; it's just direct: George's brother, Little Haiti, Mike Green’s cousin. Nature tells Capone that the “T.O.N.Y (Top of New York)” video is heating up and getting play. Capone sounds excited but can’t witness his own ascension – no TV privileges. They amp each other up nonetheless. Listening to these interludes is reminiscent of hearing "Nathaniel" from Outkast’s Aquemini album. Decades removed, where's Nathaniel and the guys who got the jailhouse shoutouts from Rikers to Elmira to Clinton to James River? I hope they're back in the world, thriving. From Iraq to beyond.
stephen hicks has been a public health professional for more than 10 years focusing on sexual health and harm reduction. He spends his days at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine then documenting Black history whenever possible. He is a writer, filmmaker, and archivist. He has bylines in TheBody, TheBodyPro, Huffington Post, Architect Magazine, and Noisey/VICE.