Life > December 6, 2007

By By Paul Szurek | Staff writer

Since we last heard from Cassidy (I’m a Hustla, 2005), he’s been charged with murder and suffered a near-fatal car crash – giving the rapper plenty to talk about in his newest album, B.A.R.S.: The Barry Adrian Reese Story, released Nov. 6.

In 2005, after a deadly shootout with his former friends, Cassidy was convicted of involuntary manslaughter, serving eight months in a Philadelphia correctional facility. He made parole in March 2006, only to be hit by a U-Haul truck in October of that year.

That accident left Cassidy in a coma for a week, and he woke up with partial amnesia – forgetting his entire rapping career and every rhyme he ever wrote.

After months of therapy, Cassidy regained his memory and his talent.

Returning to old form, the only remnant of the crash that nearly took his life is a scar that runs from his left eyebrow to the back of his head. B.A.R.S. is a testament to Cassidy’s resilience. As he puts it, “They said I coulda been brain dead in a wheelchair, but I’m standin’ in the booth and the skills are still here.”

The rapper attributes the miracle of his recovery to his faith in God. Consequently, the album carries a strong spiritual tone absent in Cassidy’s previous works, featuring tracks like “I Pray” and “Leanin’ on the Lord.”

On “Innocent,” Cassidy tells the story of his entourage’s betrayal and unfair murder rap, but he also explains that “being booked was a blessing in disguise, man. I needed time to get my life organized, man. So everything that happened was part of my God’s plan.”

If you haven’t heard the lead single, “My Drink N’ My 2 Step,” you must not have a radio. This track – like most of the album – benefits from the music of super-producer Swizz Beatz, who once again gives Cassidy some of his best work. The album also features guest appearances by John Legend, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Eve and Angie Stone.

Today’s hip-hop climate tends to glorify the thug lives of dealers, pimps and murderers.

More than anyone, Cassidy has the credibility to pose as an American gangster but he chooses to separate himself from that criminal image while still staying true to his street roots.

My favorite song on the album, “Damn I Miss the Game,” offers a commentary on the state of hip-hop today: “Now every rapper’s on some bust that gat s***, cut that crack s***, f*** that wack s***.” Cassidy also gives us his own take on the Don Imus scandal, saying that rappers “need to try switchin’ their flows, ‘cause all of our women ain’t bitches and hoes.”

Unfortunately, Barry Reese’s life over the past two years may be too much to cover in one album.

While Cassidy certainly delivers his most personal and pensive album to date, he doesn’t get too serious, tempering powerful rhymes about his recent trials and tribulations with the same powderpuff-party stuff that listeners have heard from him in the past.

It’s a shame that Cassidy shies away from the dirty details of his story.

As best he can, he avoids the drama and pain of his car crash and murder trial, so the album is not nearly as heavy as it could be.

Cassidy’s pop-conscious attempts to deliver club bangers are out of place on a record that should be about his confrontations with death. Still, he demonstrates the same skillful word play and striking flare that made him an underground rap-battle king.

B.A.R.S. is a well-rounded album worth buying, and we should look forward to good things from Cassidy in the future as he continues to focus less on making money and more on fulfilling his promising artistic potential.