Steve 'Flash' JuonI know you’re wondering — I was too. This is the same Mannie Fresh of Cash Money Records fame. I was skeptical until I looked up “Throw Down” on Discogs to confirm it, and then I heard him repeatedly scratching the phrase “New Orleans” as the song wound down, which removed any doubts I still had. The final nail in the coffin is that the album is listed in his production discography and his history with the group is mentioned in his bio. Why had I never heard of this chapter of Byron’s career? Had you?
Before I delve deeper into that point I want to explore the novelty record aspect of the album’s most notable song/single “Freddie’s Back.” The song came two years after Dana Dane’s cult hit “Nightmares” and references it with a sample, and to my surprise actually beat DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince’s “A Nightmare on My Street” to market by a year… or did it? Both songs were recorded in 1987 but neither became of the Elm Street 4 soundtrack. There are some interesting coincidences though such as both songs having a “you’ve got the body, and I’ve got the brains” line. I can’t explain how that happened other the fact it’s not a coincidence. I know that Prince’s song was rejected (famously leading to a lawsuit and a disclaimer sticker on their third album) but I have to think in each case they had some kind of directive from the studio to include that line just to be considered.
The thing is I have no evidence Gregory D & Mannie Fresh were even well enough known in the late 1980’s to even be in talks with New Line Cinema. “Throw Down” is their only record together and Mannie Fresh obviously went on to much greater fame as a producer (and occasional rapper) once Cash Money rose to prominence. There’s also sufficient evidence to suggest that the duo just thought making “Monster Mash” style rap songs was their ticket to fame, as the album follows “Freddie’s Back” with a Munsters rap called “Monster Boogie.” Yes. Seriously. A Munsters rap song. One that even goes out of its way to imply that Eddie Munster is gay. “You used to run from school to watch this show.”
The two words that describe this song are “corny” and “homophobic” and I can’t be any nicer than that. Frankly even as a kid I thought the Munsters were a lame rip off of The Addams Family and I’ve never shaken that impression. It doesn’t get any better. Gregory D might have been rapping in 1987, but his stilted delivery and simplistic rhymes would have been laughable a decade earlier. This is also so early in Mannie Fresh’s production career that he hadn’t really developed the signature sound that freshened up songs by Juvenile, Lil Wayne, Turk and B.G. yet. Tracks like “Rock Rap” just sound like bad clones of Run-D.M.C. or Beastie Boys songs. Who told him that looping “Owner of a Lonely Heart” was a good idea? It wasn’t me.
This all starts to make more sense when you learn that before “Throw Down” was a thing, Mannie Fresh was part of a New Orleans rap group called (I wish I was making this up) New York Incorporated. That’s the final piece of this puzzle we were missing. Fresh and his friends weren’t just trying to sound like New York, they were trying to BE like New York. If the cover of the album looks like a cross between BDP’s “Criminal Minded” and Eric B. & Rakim’s “Paid In Full,” that’s why. I feel bad for the N.O. now. It’s such a vibrant and colorful place with its own unique food, culture and musical scene (and sadly history of numerous tragedies too) that I’ve enjoyed both in person and from afar. Maybe it was too early in rap for New Orleans to stand out on its own, but biting New York this hard was not the right move.
The album concludes with possibly the worst sample of Brick’s “Dazz” that I’ve ever heard on “Women Ain’t Stupid.” This ain’t no “No Vaseline” and it’s not even the aforementioned Dana Dane’s “Cinderfella Dana Dane.” Sorry Byron, this doesn’t cut it. There’s some unintentional charm to this “Throw Down” despite the numerous corny and/or confusing musical choices. When you bite so hard that you leave teeth marks on the Empire State Building, you accidentally create an album that sounds like vintage NYC rap from the 1980’s, even if you’re hailing from Louisiana. From a nostalgic standpoint that almost works. Almost. In reality though I feel worse off for having discovered this album’s existence.