Anniversaries: Labcabincalifornia by The Pharcyde
The Pharcyde may have been running away from something on this album. The trappings of fame, the simplicity of their youth, but they were running toward a richer artistic legacy.
In late 1995, fans who knew The Pharcyde as the prankster-poets behind Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde got a surprise. The group’s new single “Runnin’” glided out on a mellow bossa nova loop—courtesy of a Stan Getz jazz sample—with a crooned refrain of “can’t keep running away” that felt wistful and reflective. It was a far cry from the delirious sketch-comedy of “Ya Mama” or the gleeful taunts of “Oh Shit” on their 1992 debut. On their sophomore album Labcabincalifornia, The Pharcyde traded the cartoonish exuberance of youth for something more subtle and grown-up. In the process, they crafted a deeply introspective record that has outlived its early critical dismissal and surfaced as an understated West Coast classic.
Their debut announced a new force in Los Angeles hip-hop: four class clowns set loose in the studio, unafraid to mix irreverent humor with heartfelt honesty. At a time (the early ‘90s) when their South Central home turf was dominated by gangsta rap’s menacing G-funk, The Pharcyde broadened the definition of West Coast hip-hop with a free-spirited, bohemian aesthetic. Alongside kindred crews like Freestyle Fellowship in L.A. and Hieroglyphics up north, they offered a counterweight to hard-edged street narratives, drawing comparisons to New York’s whimsical Native Tongues movement. Bizarre Ride was a critical and cult success: a psychedelic fun-house of blunted skits, jazzy loops by producer J-Swift, and youthful stories about crushes, rejections, and misadventures delivered with comedic flair. The album’s infectious playfulness—balanced by moments of self-deprecation and sincerity—made it an alternative hip-hop touchstone. Little wonder fans eagerly anticipated a follow-up. The question was: how do you top a “bizarre ride” without repeating it?
Rather than attempt Bizarre Ride II Part II, The Pharcyde pivoted. Labcabincalifornia, released three years later, presents a markedly more mellow and introspective affair. The jokey skits and high-octane antics take a backseat; in their place is a pronounced conscientious streak and reflective mood. It’s as if the four emcees—Tre “SlimKid3” Hardson, Romye “Bootie Brown” Robinson, Derrick “Fatlip” Stewart, and Emandu “Imani” Wilcox—collectively exhaled and let adulthood in. They rap about the strains of newfound fame and staying true to oneself, about the fragility of life and relationships, about the “real” behind the surreal L.A. lifestyle. Labcabin is less of a wild joyride and more of a thoughtful cruise through Southern California’s winding roads at dusk—still groovy, but tinted with sunset hues. As the group themselves acknowledged, there was no interest in rehashing the old formula. “People wanted J-Swift on the production again,” Imani later explained on Wax Poetics, referring to their debut’s sonic architect, “but we were kind of looking past that. They wanted Labcabincalifornia to be like Bizarre Ride… The funny thing is, when we did Bizarre Ride, it wasn’t [yet] the shit… After that, we were geniuses.” In other words, The Pharcyde refused to chase their own shadow—they evolved, even at the risk of confounding expectations.
Crucial to this evolution was a shift in production. Whereas nearly every track on Bizarre Ride was handled by J-Swift’s sample-rich, P-Funk-infused touch, Labcabincalifornia was a more collaborative effort. The Pharcyde’s members themselves tried their hand at crafting beats, and they recruited outside producers, most notably a then little-known Detroit beatmaker named James “Jay Dee” Yancey—later celebrated as J Dilla—who laced almost half the album’s tracks. Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest brokered the introduction, playing a tape of Jay Dee’s beats for the group. “On that tape was the loop from ‘Runnin’’ and from ‘Drop’ and all that,” SlimKid3 recalled. “We were just sitting at Q-Tip’s apartment listening to all these loops and beats, man, and the rest is history. If it wasn’t for Q-Tip, we would have never met Jay Dee or had those beats”. With Jay Dee on board—along with contributions from New York crate-digging legend Diamond D and L.A. producer M-Walk—Labcabincaliforniadeveloped a distinct musical identity. The sound is cooler, smoother, and more mid-tempo, driven by buttery basslines and Fender Rhodes keys rather than exuberant breakbeats.
Songs such as “Bullshit,” which opens the album, ride on Jay Dee’s signature unquantized drum swing and jazzy loops, setting a laid-back tone. (In fact, Roots drummer Questlove remembers hearing “Bullshit” on tour and being mesmerized by the deliberately “sloppy” kick drum pattern—a hallmark of Dilla’s innovative groove.) Even uptempo cuts have a restrained polish: the hit single “Drop” flips a grimy Beastie Boys vocal snippet into a trippy boom-bap canvas, but its atmosphere is heady and hypnotic, not cartoonish. Throughout Labcab, you hear warm piano chords, soulful horn samples, and mellow guitar licks swirling around the verses—a sound echoing the jazz-rap of the mid-‘90s but with a uniquely West Coast, sun-drenched flavor. Hand in hand with musical maturity comes a new lyrical focus. The Pharcyde were always skilled emcees beneath the jokes, and here they prove their depth.
Labcabincalifornia finds the quartet shedding some of the frivolity of youth and examining heavier themes, yet doing so with the same deft wordplay and personality that won fans over in the first place. Memory and mortality surface on “Moment in Time,” a somber, sublime track co-produced by member SlimKid3. Over a moody groove, SlimKid3 reminisces about lost loved ones (“I recall being three when Sunny passed away, one of the greatest in my eyes ’til this very day…” he raps in a hushed tone) and imparts the lesson that life is fleeting. The nostalgia is palpable; it’s a far more vulnerable side than the braggadocio or slapstick of songs past. On the soulful “She Said,” the crew grapple with romantic confusion—a tale of a one-night stand and the emotional ambiguities that follow. Fittingly, the song’s chorus swells like a tavern sing-along, a street-corner chorus on the sexy escapade that makes the listener feel the wistfulness in their harmonies.
Even when the Pharcyde still rap about chasing fun, they do so with a tint of contemplation: “Y?” is built around a chilled-out beat and finds the guys pondering fate and adversity, essentially telling themselves (and us) to roll with life’s punches and keep on keepin’ on. Resilience and self-determination emerge as quiet themes across the album. Nowhere is this clearer than in the aforementioned “Runnin’,” produced by Jay Dee. Its chorus—“Can’t keep running away”—is sung in a frisky falsetto that belies the serious resolve underneath. In the verses, Fatlip and SlimKid3 recount childhood fights and life challenges, concluding that eventually one must stop running and face the music. Fatlip even wonders aloud, “Can it be I’m a celebrity who’s on the brink of insanity?” revealing the pressure they felt after sudden fame.
Their sense of humor and identity were not lost in all this newfound seriousness. Labcabincalifornia sprinkles in moments that wink at the group’s earlier pranksterism—strategic pressure valves amid the introspection. “Groupie Therapy,” for instance, is a playful narrative about the temptations (and perils) of life on tour, complete with mischievous asides and a humorous tone. Over a bouncy Diamond D beat that cleverly samples A Tribe Called Quest’s “8 Million Stories” and Queen Latifah’s “Ladies First,” the guys satirize their own groupie encounters. Fatlip rhymes about getting tangled up with scheming fans and catching karma for it, delivering the punchline with a comedic flair. It’s a classic Pharcyde scenario—funny and rueful at once—proving they could still crack a joke while imparting a lesson. “The Hustle” likewise nods to their Bizarre Ride-era antics. Featuring radio personality Big Boy (of L.A.’s Power 106 fame) and other characters, the track plays like a skit folded into a song, with an upbeat Roy Ayers groove bumping underneath. As the title suggests, it thematically explores the grind of making it in the music business, but with a knowing smirk—the presence of Big Boy guarantees a comedic element, and the whole thing feels like a loose jam session where friends swap rhymes and laughter.
Even one of the album’s weightiest concept songs, “Devil Music,” carries a bit of that old Pharcyde irreverence. The title itself is an ironic twist: here the group confronts the “devils” of the industry—the soulless executives and forces that tempt artists to compromise—effectively saying they’ve sold pieces of their soul to make records, but they’re fighting to keep their integrity. The chorus bluntly spells it out: “Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on two-inch reels that I don’t even own”. It’s a stark, even bleak observation—yet delivering it as a funky rap track called “Devil Music” is the kind of dark joke The Pharcyde excel at. (The song even samples a sinister laugh from Wu-Tang Clan and a famous line from Eric B. & Rakim, as if hip-hop’s ghosts are nodding along.) By the time the album closes with “The E.N.D.,” the Pharcyde have one foot back in their Bizarre zone. The track is a jazzy, free-form sendoff—essentially an instrumental hip-hop jam with the crew vibe-ing out and ad-libbing to a mellow beat. It provides jazzy undertones that bookend the record, and its extemporaneous feel (the group sounds loose and unscripted, chiming in as if they’re freestyling) evokes the unforced fun of their early days. In effect, Labcabincalifornia uses those songs to keep The Pharcyde’s quirky spirit alive amid the maturation. These familiar touches don’t detract from the seriousness—rather, they humanize it, showing that growth doesn’t mean losing your sense of play. If anything, such moments of levity counterbalanced the album’s darker tones, ensuring the Pharcyde sidestepped the dreaded trap of becoming self-serious bores.
Upon its release, Labcabincalifornia puzzled some critics who the carefree charms of Bizarre Ride had seduced. A few were quick to mutter about a “sophomore slump,” that infamous phenomenon in which a beloved new act stumbles on its second attempt. But over time, its reputation has only grown. They cemented that second wave of L.A. rap—a scene where whimsy and wisdom went hand in hand. It’s telling that in the years just after Labcab, the wider hip-hop world gravitated toward the kind of sound The Pharcyde had embraced: by 1996-97, artists from A Tribe Called Quest to De La Soul and The Roots were working closely with Jay Dee and exploring more subdued, jazz-kissed production. In that sense, Labcabincalifornia was quietly influential. Jay Dee’s work on the album—his first major showcase—turned heads in hip-hop production circles. The Pharcyde effectively bridged L.A. with the broader hip-hop evolution toward “neo-soul” and reflective rap in the late ‘90s, even as internal tensions meant this would be the final Pharcyde album with all four original members. Fatlip departed the group after Labcabincalifornia’s release, and, in hindsight, the album’s closing song, “The E.N.D.,” feels poignantly prophetic. It was the end of an era for The Pharcyde, though not the end of their impact.