Fort Minor - The Rising Tied (2LP) - Deluxe Edition Vinyl

Mike Shinoda didn’t just make a side project with The Rising Tied. He built a world. Released on November 22, 2005 through Machine Shop/Warner Bros. with Jay-Z as executive producer, Fort Minor’s lone studio album still feels like a complete statement from a guy everyone knew as the quiet architect in Linkin Park. Here he steps forward, handles the production, writes with a diarist’s eye, and pulls in guests who slot into his stories like they’ve always lived there.

Start with the singles. “Remember the Name” became a sports soundtrack, the kind of track that rattles around arenas and TV promos long after its chart run. It works because the math in that hook feels both tongue-in-cheek and oddly honest, and because Ryu and Tak from Styles of Beyond toss verses like sparring partners trying to one-up each other. Then there’s “Where’d You Go,” a top ten hit built on a simple piano figure and a bittersweet hook sung by Holly Brook (who later recorded as Skylar Grey) alongside emo stalwart Jonah Matranga. It’s not flashy. It’s human. You can hear the distance in the writing and the production gives it space to breathe.

What surprised me in 2005, and still does, is how deep the album runs past the obvious hits. “Kenji” is the heart of this record. Shinoda threads his family’s stories of Japanese American incarceration during World War II with field-recorded voices from relatives, and he raps it plainly, like he’s carrying a box of old letters. No melodrama, just details. “Cigarettes” goes the other way, using a sharp extended metaphor to poke at how the industry sells what isn’t good for you while pretending it’s fine. It’s clever, but the beat knocks, and that keeps it from feeling like homework.

The guest list is smart rather than bloated. Black Thought shows up on “Right Now” and turns a cityscape into a time-lapse, while Styles of Beyond play anchor again. John Legend floats through “High Road” with a silky hook that softens Shinoda’s tightly wound barbs. Common joins “Back Home,” and the three-way chemistry clicks, three writers looking at the same scene from different stoops. Kenna and Jonah Matranga help “Red to Black” swing from fragile to defiant in a single chorus. It all feels curated, not crowded.

Jay-Z’s presence is felt in the intro and in the confidence of the sequencing, but the record is pure Shinoda. The drums pop, the bass is tidy, the samples and keys tuck in around the vocals rather than smother them. He’s always had an arranger’s brain and a crate-digger’s patience, and that balance gives The Rising Tied replay value. “Believing Me,” “Petrified,” and “In Stereo” scratch the itch for straight-ahead head-nodders, while “Get Me Gone” lays out the backstory with receipts, taking on early critics who wrote him off and label voices that didn’t get the vision.

If you discovered this while flipping through crates, that checks out. Fort Minor vinyl tends to draw the kind of shopper who wants hip-hop with craft and a point of view, not just a wave to ride. I’ve spun The Rising Tied vinyl in the shop on a slow afternoon and watched people drift closer during “Kenji,” then grin as “Remember the Name” hits. If you’re hunting for Fort Minor albums on vinyl, this is the keeper, the one you’ll lend to a friend and never quite get back. And if you prefer to buy Fort Minor records online, keep an eye out because clean copies can move fast, especially in spots where vinyl culture is strong. I’ve seen it vanish quickly at a Melbourne record store and in a couple of the busier vinyl records Australia outlets too.

Critical response at the time noted that Shinoda delivered a fully formed hip-hop record rather than a rock crossover detour. That’s the key. The Rising Tied sits comfortably alongside mid-2000s indie rap and mainstream radio, which is a neat trick. It has stadium anthems, yes, but also pages from a journal, a family archive, and a producer’s sketchbook. Two decades on, it still plays like a complete life in one LP, tied together by one voice taking the long way to the front of the stage.