Album Review: Jane Child’s Do Whatcha Do No Solution
Jane Child’s 1993 hip-hop gem, Do Whatcha Do No Solution, might not have set the charts ablaze, but it’s one of those under-the-radar releases that sticks with you. Released via Warner Bros. Records, this album—or more accurately, this collection of remixes and tracks—offers a snapshot of early '90s club culture mixed with raw hip-hop energy. It’s unapologetically bold and refreshingly imperfect, just like Jane herself.
Let’s zoom in on two standout tracks. First up is the Extended Club Mix of “Do Whatcha Do.” This version takes the original track and stretches it out into something hypnotic. The beat hits hard without being overwhelming, while Jane’s vocals bounce between playful and commanding. There’s this moment around the two-minute mark where the bassline drops out briefly, leaving just her voice floating over sparse percussion—it feels intimate, almost like she’s letting you in on a secret. You can tell this mix was made for dimly lit dance floors, but it also works if you’re just vibing alone in your room.
Then there’s the BYC Dub, which flips the script entirely. Stripped-down and experimental, this remix leans heavily into dub aesthetics. It’s less about hooks and more about texture; layers of reverb-soaked drums and echoing synths create an otherworldly vibe. At times, it feels like the song is unraveling as you listen to it, which sounds weird but somehow works perfectly. If you’re into music that challenges as much as it entertains, this one will grab you by the ears and refuse to let go.
What makes Do Whatcha Do No Solution memorable isn’t just its sound—it’s the attitude behind it. Jane Child didn’t play it safe here. She gave us multiple versions of the same song, daring listeners to pick their favorite. And honestly? That kind of confidence is rare, especially back in ’93 when hip-hop was still finding its footing in mainstream spaces.
Looking back, this release feels like a time capsule from an era when artists could take risks without obsessing over streaming numbers or viral potential. Sure, some parts feel dated now (hello, cheesy synth stabs), but that only adds to its charm. Funny enough, listening to this album today feels kinda freeing—like permission to embrace imperfection and just do whatcha do.
So yeah, give it a spin if you stumble across it. Just don’t expect perfection. Expect something real.
