Slum Beach Posse was never supposed to operate like a conventional band.
The Southern California reggae collective makes considerably more sense viewed through the lens of an old-school hip-hop crew: individual artists with distinct personalities and styles orbiting a shared creative center, dropping into each other’s songs and trusting that whatever happens when everybody gets into the same room is more interesting than anything they could have planned beforehand.
It’s why the Wu-Tang Clan comparison has followed the Posse around, and with the arrival of the 11-track Slum Beach Posse Vol. 2, Jesse James Pariah isn’t exactly running from it.
“Definitely, definitely embraces that old like Wu-Tang Clan type of hip hop,” Pariah told ThePier.org. “Like yeah, big, big crew up on the stage. Like we don’t care. We’re vibing.”
That controlled chaos is at the heart of Vol. 2, released through Slum Beach Records in partnership with Controlled Substance Sound Labs, the independent artist distribution division of Silverback Music. The record reunites the core collective of DENM, Landon McNamara, Jesse James Pariah and Benny Ranks while opening the doors wider for appearances from Kanaka Fyah and Boostive.
The album follows a debut that turned an informal creative experiment into something considerably bigger. The original Slum Beach Posse came together during a week-long jam and recording session at McNamara’s home on Hawaii’s North Shore. The resulting Vol. 1 has since amassed more than 40 million combined streams across digital platforms.
For the sequel, there was little interest in reinventing something that had happened so naturally the first time.
“The exact same recipe and equation we did before, except more perfected and better,” Pariah said.
This time DENM had the resources to rent a house next door to McNamara’s family home on Oahu, where the recording studio was located. The extra space gave the crew something perhaps more valuable than an expensive studio or rigid recording schedule: time.
“The goal was to make music, but there were no expectations set, which is always nice, you know, because every day is different,” Pariah explained.
DENM describes that extended period together as crucial to the finished record.
“‘Sun Come’ was the first of 11 songs that make up Slum Beach Posse Vol. 2. The album was recorded on Oahu, and we really got to dive deep and spend intentional time creating this record,” DENM said. “We’re thankful for these songs and for each other. It’s a very special project for us, and we’re stoked to finally share it with everyone.”
For all that talk about intentional time, the actual songwriting remained gloriously unstructured.
According to Pariah, the first day barely resembled a recording session at all. The crew hung out and spent time in the water. Then, on the second morning, inspiration arrived without an invitation.
“First thing in the morning, I was sitting in a bunk room. Fucking next thing you know, we whipped it,” Pariah recalled. “A beat popped up and I started writing to it and then I started singing to it and the boys were into it. And then next thing you know, the album started getting created.”
Once the switch flipped, it stayed on.
“From then on, we didn’t stop making music for, I think, like five days.”
That environment is essential to understanding why Slum Beach Posse sounds the way it does. This isn’t a supergroup assembled by managers or labels looking to combine audiences. It’s a musical extension of friendships, surf culture and the kind of communal creativity that happens when nobody is staring at the clock.
DENM may be the project’s producer and architect, but his most important role might be recognizing the moment when somebody else in the room has stumbled onto something worth chasing.
“He’s also good at identifying good shit cause like we’re all artists that we’re like, ah, is this cool? This cool?” Pariah said. “So Dan, it’s nice to have Dan in there because if we hit something that’s mean or play something that’s sick, he’s like, whoa, whoa, that’s it right there. Like, let’s do that.”
It’s another reason the Wu-Tang analogy works. If Slum Beach Posse is the crew, DENM occupies something close to the RZA position: producer, facilitator and creative traffic controller.
“He’s definitely got that RZA vibe for sure,” Pariah said.
But the comparison isn’t simply about having one producer overseeing multiple personalities. Pariah says DENM’s real skill is knowing when not to impose himself on the music.
“He’s also got the ability to put his creativity and stuff to the side,” Pariah explained. “Especially him being the other—I like to call him the captain me on the ship because he’s the only one out of all of us that knows how to work the computer and make the beats and hit, you know, and do record and all that.”
Pariah added: “I’ve worked with other producers and yeah, he’s one of a kind for sure. He hasn’t hit his prime yet. Let’s just say that.”
That looseness gives Vol. 2 its range. Across “Class Clowns,” “Are You Ready?,” “Take This Pain Away,” “Under The Pressure,” “Peakin Out Da Blindz,” “Conflict Resolution,” “Lovey Lovay,” “Endless Supply,” “The Ocean,” “Sun Come” and “Stuck Down,” the Posse moves between reggae, alternative music and hip-hop without losing the beach-weathered identity tying everything together.
Nowhere is that relationship with the water more explicit than “The Ocean.”
Featuring DENM, Pariah, McNamara and Benny Ranks, the song uses the constantly shifting ocean as a metaphor for surviving life’s inevitable swings between calm and chaos.
“If you really watch the ocean through the seasons and the years, you learn a lot about the ebbs and flows of life,” DENM explains. “Some days are warm and calm, some days are cold and stormy, and some days are pure fun. You just have to learn to ride the tides as they come and go. Life is like the ocean, so we wrote a song about it.”
It’s an uncomplicated philosophy, but that’s partly the point. Slum Beach Posse doesn’t need to manufacture surf culture as an aesthetic because the water is woven into the lives of the people making the music. The North Shore wasn’t simply a picturesque backdrop for the recording sessions. Surfing was part of the process.
And the collective itself continues to expand in much the same way: organically.
“Slum Beach Posse is only growing,” Pariah said.
For Pariah, there’s an even deeper connection. He credits DENM and Slum Beach Posse with helping push him into music in the first place.
“If it wasn’t for Slum Beach Posse and DENM, I wouldn’t even be in music,” he said. “He was the first guy to hit me up and keep pushing me to make stuff.”
Pariah says DENM recognized something in him before he had the confidence to recognize it himself.
“He knew I could make, you know, I had a gift, but I just was struggling with other things in my life and insecurities and identity crises,” he said. “He was persistent and eventually got to link up with him and Landon and make a super special album we made the first Slum Beach one.”
Years later, the strongest endorsement Pariah can give Vol. 2 might have nothing to do with streaming numbers, playlists or industry expectations.
He actually listens to it.
“If you find me driving out of my car, I’m not listening to other shit. I’m listening to the album, and it’s usually not even songs I’m on,” Pariah said. “It’s like the ones that Landon and Randon do.”
That’s notable because Pariah readily admits he doesn’t extend the same affection to everything he’s recorded.
“I have a huge majority of my music that I can’t stand. I’m like, dude, turn that off. Like, please,” he said. “But like I said, this stuff’s a little different. I think the people will agree.”
That may ultimately be the secret behind Slum Beach Posse.
There isn’t much separation between the music and the people making it. Surfing becomes songwriting. Friends become collaborators. A rented house becomes a studio compound. A jam session becomes an album. And a loose collection of outsiders becomes a crew.
The first record proved the experiment could work. Slum Beach Posse Vol. 2 sounds like the moment they stopped wondering whether it would.
Or, as Pariah puts it considerably more simply:
“This album is going to be popping for sure.”
