Redman may have become a household name among the rap community by the end of the '90s, but there was a time when he garnered little more than a cult following. Why? Well, Dare Iz a Darkside illustrates this better than any of his other '90s albums -- nowhere else has
Redman ever been this odd, to be quite frank. It's fairly evident here that he'd been listening to his
George Clinton records and that he wasn't fronting when he alluded to "A Million and 1 Buddah Spots" that he'd visited. In fact, this album often divides his fans. Many admire it for its eccentricities, while others deride it for being quite simply too inaccessible. It's almost as if
Redman is trying to puzzle listeners on Dare Iz a Darkside with his continually morphing persona. In fact, there's actually little questioning his motives -- it's a matter of fact that
Redman's trying to be as crazy as he can without alienating
too many of those who first knew him for his affiliation with
EPMD. And while that affiliation does aid this album, since
Erick Sermon plays a large role in production, it's not quite enough. If this album has one unforgivable flaw besides the debatable quirks in
Redman's persona, it's the production. Sermon isn't up to his usual standards here, unfortunately, and the album could really use some of his trademark funk. But the reason most fans either feel devotion or disdain for this album isn't the beats, but rather
Redman's antics. If you appreciate his wacky sense of insane humor, this album is a gold mine. If you're more into his latter-day
Method Man-style rhymes, then this album probably isn't one you want to bother with. After all, though
Redman became a household name by the end of the '90s, it surely wasn't because of albums like this. ~ Jason Birchmeier, Rovi
