Celebrating 30 Years Of Scarface’s ‘The Diary’

More than anyone, Scarface is an artist who embraced the introspective side of street storytelling. His first two albums emphasized the mental toll of street hustling and violence, setting his reputation as rap’s darkest storyteller while also influencing everyone from Biggie to DMX with his ability to communicate the angst that comes with a certain lifestyle. Early in his run with the Geto Boys, he could use that psychologically-driven approach for shock value, but it became more effective in the more pained and analytical voice he adopted for 1991’s Geto Boys classic “Mind Playing Tricks On Me.”

That hit is echoed on The Diary in late album cut “Mind Playing Tricks 94” — but this isn’t an album where Brad Jordan was looking back at what worked before. This is Scarface pushing himself to a higher level creatively. And he also isn’t as preoccupied with looking inward.

At least not in the way he’d been known for up to that point.

On his third album, Face isn’t quite as pensive and tortured — but he’s no less thoughtful. That thoughtfulness is often coupled with rage here; a fiery anger aimed at his enemies and sometimes himself. It makes for the most explosively volatile project in his catalog.

Album opener “White Sheet” is one of Scarface’s strongest opening tracks; an unapologetic ode to gunplay, and it sets the tone for an album that rarely allows any light in. This is Scarface at his bloodiest, and his lyricism reaches previously untapped heights. The rapper would later express that The Diary was a result of tremendous musical growth after years of pushing his musical and lyrical creativity. 30 years later, it’s hard not to see the album as the pinnacle of the first act in a still-going and still remarkable career.

Scarface’s pen is undeniable and on The Diary, he cements his rep as one of the best ever. “No Tears” is one of the best showcases for Face’s skills — and one of the rapper’s most definitive tracks. The cold nihilism of the lyrics and vividly descriptive narration by Face’s raging protagonist make for a potent example of the album’s dark poetry. And, incidentally, the song became the backdrop for one of the funniest scenes in movie history.

The rubbery funk of “Goin Down” is a rare moment of semi-levity on The Diary; as Face showcases his somewhat underappreciated lover man side. The singsongy “please excuse my attitude” hook and flirty spirit would serve as jumping-off points for future like-minded Scarface tracks like “Sex Faces” and “Mary Jane.” While “Hand Of The Dead Body” is a tour-de-force team-up between Face, Ice Cube and a young Devin The Dude on the hook. It’s one of Scarface’s best political tracks — as he admonishes the then-surging backlash against gangsta rap.

Songs like “Jesse James” and “G’s” feature standout production from N.O. Joe with an assist from Dean — and the focus on original backing (as opposed to solely relying on samples) helped set a sonic standard for the South’s suddenly-exploding mid-’90s sound. The wave of producers that took the South mainstream — names like N.O. Joe, Mike Dean, Pimp C, Organized Noize, Beats By the Pound and Mannie Fresh — weren’t as sample-driven as their East and West Coast counterparts; and, as a result, the region’s sound was uniquely rich and distinctly expansive. In a year that saw no shortage of classic music, Scarface’s sound still managed to stand out.

The most revered track on The Diary, “I Seen A Man Die” remains an all-world story song: one of the best singles of the 1990s and one of the greatest rap songs of all time. Over the funkiest funereal organ backing, Scarface lays out the dark tale of a young ex-convict’s refusal to leave his criminal past — and who pays the ultimate price for his ways. There are few songs—in any genre—that capture the cold, frightening finality of death while also perfectly expressing the sinister poetry of dying as well as this powerful affecting song.

Three decades later, whether or not The Diary is Scarface’s best album may be debatable; but it's Face’s most definitive project. On this album, Brad Jordan fully stepped into his artistry and cemented his legacy. It was released at a time when the kind of music Scarface was known for was both going mainstream and simultaneously being attacked and criticized from all sides. On the album, Face addresses the criticism – sometimes directly, sometimes by just brazenly sticking to his proverbial guns – and now the album stands as a true testament to that unforgettable period of rap culture.