What do you after your ground breaking rap-duo sells 11 million copies in a calendar year? You branch out and give back – that’s what. Big Boi, one half of the A-T-L supergroup OutKast, has done exactly that with Big Boi Presents Got Purp? Vol 2.

Got Purp? Vol 2 is a symphony of sound, almost totally unrestricted by traditional Hip Hop boundaries. Nearly the entire Dungeon Family represents on this compilation, including its newest addition Bubba Sparxxx, giving it a diversified and refreshing overall appeal. Woven through it all is Big Boi’s vintage touch: clever, staccato rhymes with a smooth touch of East Point Cool.

”Body Rock” is a familiar bass-heavy anthem about club life, big cars, and “sippin on that purple” featuring Killer Mike. “Oh No” features Bubba Sparxxx crediting the Dungeon Family with everything from coining the phrase “dirty south” to inventing sliced bread, all while poking fun at the fact that OutKast’s other half (Andre 3000) is conspicuously missing from the Got Purp? project. Similarly, “Kryptonite (I’m On It)” features Big Boi, Killer Mike, Blackowned C-Bone and Rock-D, and has generated the most airplay so far. However, it’s tracks like “Me, My Baby & My Cadillac” and “Claremont Lounge” that make this disc stand out, providing a smooth counterbalance to some of the heavier production on the album.

“Me, My Baby & My Cadillac” is a classic Sleepy Brown serenade that makes you feel like somehow everything is going to be all right. “Claremont Lounge” is a Bubba Sparxxx/ Killer Mike/ Cool Breeze collabo that consists of each telling a story about a different encounter at Atlanta’s famed nightspot. “808” features a less-than-trill cameo from Bun B, and is mostly a reservoir of wasted energy. Along with the silly (yet characteristic) interludes, it constitutes the “skip-able” tracks on the album.

Quietly, the best part of this album comes from newcomer Janelle Monae, whose featured vocals on “Lettin’ Go” and “Time Will Reveal” leave you wondering where you’ve heard that voice before. Her voice is somehow reminiscent of every female singer from the ‘60s & ‘70s: light and carefree, yet full of conviction. In fact, this album’s major contribution is that it takes you back – back to when “Southern” was not a synonym for “crunk”, and the music was just another reflection of one particular way of doin’ thangs.