Notorious B.I.G. - Duets (The Final Chapter) (2LP + 7") - 45RPM Red/Black Vinyl

Duets: The Final Chapter lands in that tricky space where legacy, commerce and genuine love for an artist all tug at the same rope. Released on 20 December 2005 by Bad Boy, it arrived eight years after Christopher Wallace was killed, billed as the final word on new Biggie material. The premise is straight down the line. Lift verses from classic sessions and a few rarities, then set them against new instrumentals and a guest list that reads like a mid 2000s rap summit. It could have been a cynical cut‑and‑paste job. At its best, it isn’t. At its worst, it reminds you why this approach is so hard to pull off.

The singles tell the story. Nasty Girl was everywhere in late 2005, a glossy radio mover with Diddy, Nelly, Jagged Edge and Avery Storm trading lines around Biggie’s effortless charm. It hit number one in the UK, which says plenty about how widely his voice still cut through nearly a decade on. It is pure club sparkle, a world away from the dust and menace of Ready to Die, yet it works because that voice still commands the room. Then there’s Spit Your Game, a bright, double‑time nod to Notorious Thugs, with Twista and Krayzie Bone sprinting to keep pace. When the production locks to Biggie’s original cadence, the illusion holds. You feel the thrill of hearing him spar with peers who came of age in his shadow.

Hold Ya Head is the track that sticks with me most. It laces Biggie’s verses to a mournful Bob Marley sample, Johnny Was, and finds a strange serenity. The idea should feel forced, but the melancholy suits him. 1970 Somethin’ pairs him with The Game and Faith Evans and leans into nostalgia without getting syrupy. Across the album you also hear ambitious lineups that exist only in this posthumous universe, like Living in Pain bringing together Biggie with 2Pac, Nas and Mary J. Blige. That one is more about the framing than fireworks, but as an artefact it is hard to ignore.

Because this is a duets project, your ears start grading the fit. Sometimes the new guests meet Biggie where he already was and the handshake is clean. Sometimes the beats are pitched up or down to match, and you notice the seams. The engineering is mostly careful, and there’s real craft in finding pockets for a 1994 flow inside 2005 radio shapes. Still, there are stretches where the gloss fights the gravel. That tension is baked in. Biggie built a world so complete that parachuting him into someone else’s set often feels like shifting a classic painting into a new frame.

Critical reaction at the time reflected that push and pull. Major US outlets praised the scale and a few bold ideas, but many also questioned the patchwork feel and whether this should really be called a final chapter. Fans split too. Some only wanted the grimy Brooklyn storytelling that made him immortal. Others were happy to hear the voice anywhere, anyhow. I sit somewhere in the middle. Duets: The Final Chapter isn’t the place to meet Biggie for the first time, but it has several moments that justify its existence, and a couple that can stand in any playlist next to the canonical cuts.

On vinyl the record breathes better. Biggie’s baritone finds a little extra room, and the low end isn’t crushed the way some mid 2000s CDs were. If you spot Duets: The Final Chapter vinyl while crate digging at a Melbourne record store, flip it over and check the track spread. The sequencing across sides helps the mood swings settle. It sits neatly next to other Notorious B.I.G. albums on vinyl, and if you collect hip hop classics, it fills a specific gap between memorial and reinterpretation. Plenty of shops that specialise in vinyl records Australia keep a copy around, and you can always buy Notorious B.I.G. records online if your locals are picked clean. For anyone building out a Notorious B.I.G. vinyl shelf, it’s worth the space, provided you go in knowing this isn’t Ready to Die or Life After Death redux.

Duets: The Final Chapter was never going to please everyone. What it does do is underline the thing that made Wallace special. Line after line, he sounds unbothered by the chaos around him. Even when surrounded by big names and shiny hooks, he’s the steady centre. That alone keeps you listening, and it’s why this set remains more than a footnote. If the idea of posthumous collaborations gives you pause, start with Hold Ya Head and Spit Your Game, then decide. If you’re already a convert, this record will remind you that even in the most manufactured settings, Biggie’s voice still cuts clean.