Manger on McNichols bears the logo of Detroit's Sector 7-G Recordings despite landing five months after Boldy James' Griselda deal was publicized. In this case -- an LP mixing sample-based boom bap, an ensemble of local and variably experienced players granted total leeway, and a street-level viewpoint -- Sector 7-G serves the aggregate spirit of bygone local jazz and hip-hop independents like Strata, Tribe, and World One. The LP began its gestation before the connection with Griselda, the crew's formation, and even the 2011 release of James' debut, Trapper's Alley: Pros and Cons. One of the harder-knocking beats on that tape was produced by the ingenious Sterling Toles, who at the turn of the century recorded James' first track. From 2007 through 2010, James and Toles worked on what became Manger on McNichols with no thought about anyone outside their circle hearing it. Toles then reshaped the tracks in piecemeal fashion with roughly a dozen musicians including cellist Mother Cyborg, percussionist Jugal Kishore Dasa, primary woodwind and brass provider Rafael leafaR, and most notably the lyrical electric bassist Bubz Fiddler, a P-Funk associate who died in 2016. The project was completed in 2018 when James added verses to a couple instrumental sections. That means the vocals also span a decade. James grew during this period from an unknown outside his city to a highly regarded veteran with a rich catalog deepened by collaborations with forebears such as Kool G Rap, Prodigy, and Nas.
No matter the protracted and complex recording process, Manger on McNichols is bound like one session. It's a testament to Toles' vision and patience. The same goes for James' consistency as an indefatigable sage who should get the first call when an animated feature needs a voice for an oracular reptile. That's not to make light of the tragedies and other dire circumstances the MC relates here. In the rustling and harrowing "Mommy Dearest (A Eulogy)," Toles integrates a sample from an interview in which James speaks on that then-unreleased track: "[Toles] used to always tell me to be more personal. So, the more personal I got, the darker my music got." And how. The album opens with James fretting about seeking above-board employment to support his woman and unplanned first child, recognizing "All I know is how to whip dust in a Pyrex." A few tracks later over smudged gospel jazz, he tensely notes he's "going through a thing" before elaborating with "I just lost my two twins in an accident/Would've been my firstborn kids, guess it wasn't meant." He has rarely sounded as resigned as on the tumbling "Welcome to 76," covering lost innocence, betrayal, vengeance, and a jail term described as "penitent purgatory." (The tough kid on the chorus is DeJ Loaf, recorded years before her breakthrough.) There's some pillow talk on "Birth of Bold (The Christening)," where a 1994 R&B hit is stretched like taffy and given a G-funk makeover, but a few bars later, it's back to threats dealt with enumeration of weaponry and talk of collapsed lungs and body bags. Toles' brilliant finishing touch is the interlacing of words and music sourced from numerous beloved Detroiters -- radio and television personalities, certain mononymously known house and R&B legends, and so on. This is therapy as happenstance high art, dispatched from the bottom.