The Hit Man Of Atlanta

By CHRISTOPHER JOHN FARLEY

Jermaine Dupri, chart-topping R.- and-B. producer and hard-core rap star-in-the-making, still lives with his mother. The 25-year-old music man likes it that way; he likes to be self-contained, to have everything he wants, everything he needs, everything he cares about close at hand. For glory, the walls of his airy Atlanta home are lined with gold and platinum records--the hits he's written and produced for such performers as Mariah Carey, TLC and Usher. For recreation, nestled about the den, he has half-a-dozen arcade-style video games--including Mortal Kombat and Street Fighter II. For work, tucked in a corner on the ground floor, he has a cozy but well-furbished home studio. Often, when staff members at So So Def, the record label he heads, hold meetings, Dupri doesn't even leave his house to attend, but calls in via speaker phone. "I do [music] 100%," says Dupri. "Ain't nothing else going on in my life. Everybody else got kids, families. It's completely music for me."

Now Dupri, like Sean ("Puffy") Combs before him, is about to take the biggest risk of his professional career and step out from the safety of his studio. Like Puffy, he has been known primarily as a producer, but on July 21, Dupri will showcase his talents as a rapper-performer and release Life in 1472, his debut solo album. Well, it's sort of a solo album; hedging his bets, Dupri's CD features an impressive array of already successful guest performers, including rappers Snoop Doggy Dogg, Mase and Lil Kim, as well as R.-and-B. singers Carey, Usher and Keith Sweat. "It's a ghetto version of Quincy Jones' Back on the Block," says Dupri. "His album was a wish list of people he wanted to perform with, and so is mine."

Born in North Carolina but raised in Atlanta, Dupri began wishing and striving for onstage success early on. When he was still just a teen, he discovered, designed and launched the kiddie rap group Kris Kross. In 1992 Columbia Records gave him his own subsidiary label, So So Def, establishing him as a powerhouse in Atlanta's thriving R.-and-B. scene. Dupri, whose real last name is Mauldin, brought his parents, who are divorced, along for the ride: his mother, Tina Mauldin, runs his production company, and Dupri's deal helped his father, Michael Mauldin (a former road manager for various old-school R.-and-B. groups), land a job as vice president of black music at Columbia (he's now president of the division).

Although he is short in stature, Dupri is not short on self-confidence. Asked if he was intimidated by the rap stars on his album, he replies, "I feel like I could rap better than all of them if I wanted to. But that's not what I do--I'm a producer. But if I was a full-time rapper, they'd be intimidated by me. That's how I see it." And he fends off Puffy comparisons by asserting, "The shoes I wear are a whole lot bigger than the shoes that he wears. I'm more hands-on than Puffy in terms of my production." In a sly move, Dupri recently signed Mase, who performs on Puffy's label, Bad Boy, to a deal under which the rapper will find and produce new talent for Dupri.

Dupri's productions tend to be uncluttered, with clear melodic thrust; his particular talent is in creating songs that sound of the moment but are so sturdily constructed that they may be radio staples for years to come. Five songs he co-wrote and co-produced are currently on the Billboard Top 100 singles chart. His best recent work includes Usher's sleek album My Way, whose songs were almost all co-written and co-produced by Dupri, and the female vocal group Xscape's CD Traces of My Lipstick, which features several elegantly funky Dupri-penned songs.

On Life in 1472, Dupri proves he can perform as well as produce--his rapping is relaxed but engaging. The CD's best cut is Sweetheart, Dupri's duet with Carey. Her lilting, soulful voice is a good match for his prodding raps. Much of the CD, however, is tainted with misogyny; the word bitch poisons many tracks. It's a relief when rapper Da Brat, on the war-between-the-sexes song, All That's Got to Go, shows up to defend women and fire shots at pushy "players."

Dupri expects his album to be a hit, but no matter how it does, he says he had to make it. "It's like Michael Jordan when he went off to play baseball," he says. "People didn't understand why. But there was a baseball player in him--maybe not a good one--but there was one. Same with me. There's an artist in me--it may not be a good one, I don't know. But I think the art is good."