The Weekly Coos

Common & Pete Rock, a combination that would make any old head in Hip-Hop turn off the noise and get the stereo bumping to slick wordplay and crisp narratives from Common and the infused creativity of Pete Rock’s beats all summer. Pete Rock’s legendary status in New York is unmatchable as a producer. Much of that is thanks to the name he paved for himself in the 90s, giving quality beats to Brand Nubian, Heavy D and the Boys, Raekwon, and Big L, to name a few; with Common, the story also began in the 90s; oh, and he can rap too. Pete Rock would produce Common’s response to Westside Connection after a nonsensical beef erupted over the content in Rap music, as evident with the jabs taken by Common on “I Used To Love H.E.R.,” which reminisced about the golden 80s, the boom bap, and jazz. However, after two collaborations in the 90s, we are hearing realized greatness as the two reconvene for some modern nostalgia in The Auditorium Vol. 1. It doesn’t hold itself back from taking that extra step, thanks to Pete Rock’s meticulously crafted production, and Common’s writing, which beautifully tackles different ideas in beautiful cohesion.

The Auditorium Vol. 1 has become an immediate favorite, even if it isn’t perfect, but that’s okay. Much of this love does emanate from a slight leaned-in bias from a style/sub-genre that has been everpresent in my growth listening to and studying music; Common was a driving force, and though he has delivered some pretty weak albums, like Her Love (2019), you can tell when he is hungry. It is what separates the more contemplative and fluid Black America Again from the bleak and hardened forced perspectives in Nobody’s Smiling. His new tape with Pete Rock doesn’t shy away from Common personifying that attitude—his bars stay grounded instead of being this materialistic venture like “Diamonds,” a song with Big Sean that I genuinely enjoy. However, as he maneuvers through delivering these tracks, we get so many highs that the lows don’t feel as such. The album is moving with such forward momentum you’re left just letting it flow and repeating without a second thought about the vibe, especially as you get hooked by the scrubbing, sampling, and euphoric jazz notes, especially with the opening track “Dreamin” and the closer “Now and Then,” two beautifully contrasting composites that shine.

Common and Pete Rock come packing a potent punch, and as it starts to trickle down with occasional and isolated weak bar or the one religious song, “A God (There Is),” that feels like the obligatory “thank you god” at an awards speech. Though the track has its merits, it doesn’t fully connect with the flow of Common’s content in other songs as it caters too much to a preachy message, as opposed to the nuanced topicality of “We’re On Our Way.” It’s a minor stopgap that doesn’t hinder the experience, but it isn’t one that I’d swiftly return to. It is a minor hook that beautifully captures the spirit of classic soul beat Common, like something out of One Day It’ll All Make Sense, but it doesn’t offer the same juice that “Lonesome” and “When The Sun Shines Again” bring. It’s fitting, but one note. How it comes together in the grand picture does what one assumes they aim for in sound, and it’s constructing something that exemplifies the soul beyond the parameters of regular audio levels; it’s a spiritual connection formed through the vocal performances igniting the loud auditorium.

The real hero of the album is Pete Rock, and as Common matches his energy on many tracks, the beats still push through audibly fantastic work, like the sampling on “Chi-Town Do It,” which uses “All Falls Down” by Kanye West and “Ice Cream” by Raekwon. But Rock’s production is more than just the sampling. He has a finite ear for blending these different instruments into something more expansive and profound, never seeming to retread while keeping tones consistent. He’s using instruments to their fullest, never letting a moment get lost within the ever-changing compositional landscapes with its Jazz-Soul central focus. “Fortunate” embodies the spirit of mid-00s Common, specifically Go; the beats glide through varying layers, relying less on drums, unlike the beautifully sobering “Lonesome,” where it doesn’t use much to remedy a soulful delivery with the percussion. “Everything’s So Grand” emboldens the saxophone to flow, creating perfect unison for a flow that keeps you hooked. We’re getting reminded of classic Common, and not in the way where you feel like he’s trying to reclaim old glory. It’s anthemic and nuanced in its approach to delivering an impactful sequence of tracks that reclaims glory.

The Auditorium Vol. 1 is exceptional, and I can’t stop replaying it. There is some sliver of hope we’ll get an accompanying instrumental album, but it isn’t the end all, be all with Common taking it upon himself to bring his A game. That’s just half the battle, so as they convene and give us a moment to remember, you’ll want to keep it in rotation due to immaculate vibes for the summer. With great beats, clever introspective bars, some braggadocio ones, and more, my recommendation is significantly high. Give it a spin; you know I won’t steer you wrong with Hip-Hop.