Only the best music ages gracefully. That’s as obtuse an opening as possible, but it’s true. There’ve been innumerable recordings that were initially heralded as the harbinger of something new only to soon be forgotten. The Strokes’ first album might be a decent example of that phenomenon in the rock world – or even Master P and his crew in the rap community. After all, where’s that guy now? He’s rich, but pretty much universally loathed. Sleeping on a mattress filled with hundred dollar bills probably makes him feel better, though.

But in talking about the perception of music, even a decade after its recording, it’s worth revisiting the entire g-funk thing at this point. For those of us that grew up with the Parliament fueled rap stuffs on the radio, it might seem nostalgic, but there’s more than just its throw back appeal.

In making use of all that funk stuff, producers – specifically Dr. Drew and Battlecat – basically approximated James Brown helming an ensemble of players. Each producer became a conductor of sundry musicians from bygone eras. And at its best, the funky productions don’t even sound like rap tracks, just dug up artifacts from the early ‘80s.

Surely, at this point some of the production tied to g-funk doesn’t come off as smooth as it once did. But the jittery feel to it all should grant listeners some insight into what roaming around the East Bay or Los Angeles was like twenty years ago.

Not forgotten, but certainly not heralded in the same way his So Cal brethren were, Dru Down remains one of the most exemplary proponents of the East Bay rap thing. Beginning his recording career in 1993 with a self titled effort on C-Note Records (no, I’ve never heard of such a thing either), the emcee would skip around from label to label for most of his career save for his two consecutive releases in ’94 and ’96.

The latter of those two albums, Can You Feel Me?, is an avowed classic at this point, but only within a community of people that still value g-funk stylings. So it’s really a damnable shame that more folks outside of the Bay aren’t privy to hearing this work.

Even when contrasted with Dre or Snoop’s work from roughly the same time, Dru Down is a contender. And honestly, some of his pimp story telling comes off a damn sight more realistic. That’s not to say anyone was coping a pose, but tossing off a few tracks that include Bootsy Collins lends Can You Feel Me? an immediacy that most other hip hop of the time lacked.

The music’s able to somehow come off as soothing and funktastic while still retaining a menacing air about it all. “Mista Busta” with its half sung chorus gives ample explanation. But even if it didn’t, just taking a look at the other track names included on Dru Down’s disc should be more than enough to endear the disc to any passing rap fan. It’s not just for collectors, hermits and crate diggers.