Cam'ron & A-Trak - U Wasn't There (LP)

Cam’ron and A-Trak’s long-teased team-up finally landed as U Wasn’t There on 23 September 2022, and it plays like a well-thumbed scrapbook pulled from a Harlem closet. The pair first teased this collaboration back in 2014 with the shelved Federal Reserve project, so there’s a sweet sense of payoff here. A-Trak, the Montreal-born DMC champ and Fool’s Gold co-founder, has always had a soft spot for Dipset pageantry. Cam’ron, Harlem royalty many times over, still knows how to glide across a beat with a smirk and a jab. Put them together and you get a brisk, richly textured album that treats nostalgia like a tool, not a crutch.

A-Trak’s production is the glue. He has that crate-digger’s ear for triumphant horns, dusty soul vamps and drums that slap without crowding the MC. The beats have the sheen of a modern mix but the heart of Uptown mixtape culture. You can hear it right away on All I Really Wanted, a late-career Cam highlight that shook loose as a single with a proper Harlem-flavoured video. It’s reflective without getting maudlin. Cam pivots between origin stories and small flexes, tossing off punchlines in that laid-back drawl that made him a cult hero in the first place. He never hurries, which lets the samples breathe and the ad-libs land.

Ghetto Prophets brings in Conway the Machine, one of the few contemporary rappers who can stand shoulder to shoulder with Cam on swagger alone. The track is a grit-streaked soul loop that lets both voices cut through. Conway’s gravel complements Cam’s icier tone, and A-Trak leaves enough space in the drums to let their cadences pop. It feels like a generational handshake across regions, Harlem meeting Buffalo under a canopy of blaring horns and vinyl crackle.

Part of the charm is how the record stitches together ideas seeded in the Federal Reserve era. Dipshits, the cult favourite from that period, resurfaces here and it still thunders. Those triumphant horns and stomping drums have become a little anthem in their own right. You can practically see the pink mink swinging as Cam barks out lines and the city roars behind him. That spirit carries through the album in short skits and interludes that nod to the old Roc-A-Fella orbit and the fly-talk that made the Diplomats a movement, not just a crew.

U Wasn’t There isn’t bloated with features or grand concept arcs, which suits it. It works best as a concentrated hit of mood. A-Trak’s ear for texture keeps each track distinct, whether that means strings that shrug like shoulders in a fur coat or chopped vocals that flicker like neon off wet Harlem asphalt. Cam sounds energised by the palette. He’s not out to reinvent the wheel. He’s here to remind you why his wheel still spins smooth.

The reception reflected that sweet spot. Critics latched onto the time-capsule tug but also praised how current the mix feels. It’s not a museum piece. The album is short enough to leave you wanting another lap, and punchy enough to work in a club set or a rooftop smoke break. That balance is where A-Trak’s history as a world-class DJ shows. He sequences with a crowd in mind, even on a studio record, and Cam knows how to play to the back row without shouting.

If you’re the type who judges a rap record by how it feels on wax, this one is begging for the turntable. The low-end is tight, the samples ring bright, and Cam’s voice sits in that perfect pocket where you can nudge the volume and feel the room shift. U Wasn’t There vinyl has become a quiet favourite in shop bins, slotted right next to Purple Haze and the rest of the Cam’ron vinyl section. I’ve seen folks in a Melbourne record store grab it on impulse after a few test spins, then come back asking where they can buy Cam’ron records online because the swagger just lights up a living room. If you’re building out a Dipset corner, it’s a tidy addition. And if you’re new and poking around for Cam’ron albums on vinyl, this plays like a compact primer on why he mattered and why he still does.

It helps that the album doubles as a little culture lesson. You can hear the echoes of street DVDs, Madison Square Garden showdowns and a Harlem that dressed like the cameras were always on. U Wasn’t There makes that history feel tactile again. Not trapped in amber, just alive in the grooves. That’s the trick. A-Trak digs through memory, Cam dusts it off, and together they make a record that sounds like a block party right as the sun dips. For anyone flicking through crates in vinyl records Australia circles, it’s a no-brainer reach. Put it on, let the horns ring, and watch the room start swapping stories.