"Hi, I'm Sean Lennon and you're listening to Jurassic 5." This is not the kind of endorsement that instills high hopes in listeners. Yet, there he is, offering his phoned-in cameo seconds before a song called "Great Expectations" kicks in. Fortunately, the announcement comes after the Jurassic 5 have set themselves apart from the ranks of standard-issue underground hip-hop collectives and stagnating turntablists. Besides, later on, Sherman Hemsley from "The Jeffersons" makes an appearance, effectively neutralizing the Ono-ization.

What sets the Jurassic 5 apart from the dead sea of generic hip-hop crews is their sheer charisma. These days, rappers either take their shit far too seriously to interest anyone outside their immediate clique or are too preoccupied with the innate shock value of slagging gays and killing wives. But these guys revert to a simpler time through the resurrection of styles first implemented by the Treacherous Three and Cold Crush Brothers. So, no, they're not doing something completely new, but at least it's a change from the pompous preachery of backpackers like Common, and the hokey forgettability of recent Automator joints.

Quality Control serves as a somewhat lackluster follow-up to J5's self-titled 1999 EP, though it's got more than its fair share of top-shelf tracks. Turntable masters Cut Chemist and DJ Nu-Mark piece together generally innovative samples that keep the music moving, and occasionally even surprising, which is saying a lot considering the increasingly limited possibilities of hip-hop soundbytes. "Doo Wop" (not to be confused with the similarly titled Lauryn Hill song) is slick and fast-paced with an irresistible sing-along chorus and spliced-in barbershop quartets. "L.A.U.S.D" sports a J5 mission statement of sorts ("We are no superstars/ Who wanna be large and forget who we are/ Don't judge us by bank accounts or big cars/ No matter how bright we shine we're far from being stars") over flourishes of Hammond organ. But the album's standout comes with "Jurass Finish First" which bounces along on a simple but strangely compelling two-chord piano riff and a massive, crystal-clear drum track.

Now, I realize that hip-hop's primarily a singles-based genre, and that even a lot of the classic records have got their share of filler, but for my money, three out of fifteen's not cutting it. After countless, seemingly interchangeable tracks, this record could have benefited from its namesake-- or more preferably, a couple of other worthwhile moments. Cuts like the forgettable basketball anthem, "The Game", "Contact", and naturally, that goddamned intro, would have been better left in the vault or on the b-side of an upcoming single. But all told, it could be a lot worse. They could have had Sean Lennon freestyling over samples off Yoko's Starpeace. Let's not think about it.