Beastie Boys - Ill Communication Review

The flute sample from Jeremy Steig's Howlin' For Judy anchors the cleanest hip-hop track on the album, with verses that actually have something to say about respect and evolution. The production is economical in a way the rest of the album is not, letting the loop and the drums do the work while the three voices trade lines without stepping on each other. This is the Beastie Boys at their most focused, which makes it the exception rather than the rule.

Fifty-seven seconds of punk noise with Amery Smith on drums, serving no purpose except to prove the group still remembered how to play loud and fast. It breaks the momentum Sure Shot built and sets a pattern the album will repeat too many times.

A funk workout that leans into the groove Money Mark and Eric Bobo build, with verses that prioritize rhythm over content. The track works because it knows what it is—a showcase for the live band—and does not pretend to be more. The interplay between the three voices is tighter here than on most of the album, and the production has enough swing to justify the length.

An instrumental interlude that drifts without landing, named for percussionist Eric Bobo but not memorable enough to justify the detour.

The best pure hip-hop track on the album, built on a breakbeat and a groove that locks in harder than anything on Check Your Head. The verses are sharp without trying to prove anything, and the production gives the track enough space to breathe while keeping the energy high. This is the sound of a group that figured out how to make live instruments serve a rap song instead of the other way around, and it holds up as well as anything they recorded in the nineties.

The fuzz bass that drives this track sat unused for a year before the group added a fictitious rant about their producer holding them back, and the result is the most visceral two minutes and fifty-eight seconds they ever recorded. The verses are absurd and the energy is pure aggression, with no attempt to justify the anger beyond the fact that it sounds good when channeled into a riff this heavy. The Spike Jonze video turned it into a cultural moment, but the track works on its own as a distillation of everything the live-band pivot was supposed to accomplish.

Q-Tip's verse is the best thing on the album that the Beastie Boys did not write, and the track is smart enough to recognize it. The sample from The Moog Machine's cover of Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In gives the production a psychedelic tint that plays well against the straight hip-hop structure, and the group's verses stay out of Q-Tip's way. This is what the album sounds like when the Beastie Boys let someone else do the heavy lifting, and it works better than most of the tracks where they try to carry it themselves.

An instrumental that drifts between jazz and funk without committing to either, serving as a breather after Get It Together but not offering much reason to return to it. The performance is solid, but the composition is a sketch.

A slower funk track that lets the groove sit and gives the verses room to wander. The writing is not as sharp as Sure Shot or Root Down, but the production is confident enough to make the track work as a vibe. Money Mark's keyboards anchor the sound, and the rhythm section stays locked in without overplaying. This is the album at its most patient, which is also its most mature.

Another mid-tempo funk track that prioritizes feel over content, with verses that coast on rhythm rather than saying much. The production is clean and the groove is solid, but the track does not distinguish itself enough to stand out in a tracklist this long. It works as part of the flow but not as a destination.

A track that splits the difference between the punk energy of Sabotage and the funk experiments that dominate the album, with verses that lean into wordplay without landing anything memorable. The production is busy in a way that works against the groove, and the track feels like an idea the group could not quite finish but decided to keep anyway.

An instrumental featuring Eugene Gore on violin, drifting through a jazz sketch that never develops into a full idea. It serves as a mood piece but contributes nothing to the album's argument or momentum.

Ninety-four seconds of a looped flute sample with no development, no payoff, and no reason to exist as a standalone track. Pure filler.

Biz Markie's appearance is the only reason this track registers, and even then it feels like a throwback to an earlier version of the Beastie Boys that the album had already moved past. The beat is serviceable and the vibe is loose, but the track does not add anything that the stronger cuts have not already accomplished. It works as a moment of levity, but it is not a reason to keep listening.

A drum showcase for Eric Bobo that works as a technical display but not as a composition. The performance is tight and the production gives the drums room to breathe, but the track ultimately feels like a studio exercise that made it onto the album because no one had a reason to cut it.

Another short punk blast with Amery Smith on drums, louder and faster than Tough Guy but just as pointless. The energy is real but the song is not, and it arrives too late in the tracklist to function as anything other than a reminder that the group still had not learned when to stop.

A longer punk track that tries to build on the energy of Sabotage but lacks the riff or the focus to pull it off. The verses are fast and the guitars are loud, but the track does not go anywhere, and the production is muddier than it needs to be. This is what happens when a good idea gets stretched past its breaking point.

An instrumental that drifts through jazz and funk textures without landing on a melody or a groove worth remembering. The performance is fine, but the track is another example of the group recording because they could, not because they should.

A sincere meditation on Buddhism that arrives too late in the tracklist to register as anything other than an afterthought. The verses are earnest and the production is subdued, which makes the track feel like an outlier in a sequence that has already worn out its welcome. It works as a statement of intent, but not as a song.

A minute of studio chatter that closes the album on a note of casual indifference, as if the group thought the journey mattered more than the destination. It does not work as a closer and it does not add anything, but it does confirm that the album could have been shorter.