Way back in 2002, former leader of hip-hop/jazz fusion group A Tribe Called Quest, Q-tip, created his second solo album, Kamaal the Abstract. Abstract, with its sprawling and chunky stretches of instrumental jams, was conceived 6 full years before the interbreeding between hip-hop and other genres was as prevalent and well-received as it is today. In fact, this album was such a large departure from what was going on with rap music at the time, much less from what people expected to hear from Q-tip, that it was shelved by his label for fear of being a commercial disaster. LA Reid, who would go on the following year to oversee the release of Outkast's Speakboxxx/The Love Below (their most experimental and unorthodox work to date, which is saying a lot), didn't believe the album could prevail while The Game and 50 Cent were topping the charts with their information-age spin on Gangsta Rap.
In 2009 Abstract has finally seen the light of day that it deserves. While Q-tip's prior release just last year, The Renaissance, further explored the jazzy meoldies that have always been at the root of his music since his days with Tribe, it was still standard Q-tip through and through, with all the rubber-necking sample loops and soulful basslines that entails. Those looking for a looser version of that kind of instrumentation will be pleased with Abstract, but might be puzzled when Q disappears for noticeable stretches of time. However, the spontaneity that having such an unhinged structure brings doesn't so much hurt the album, but instead lends it a live feel which reminds you when you least expect it that anything can happen.
Things ramp up right away during the opener "Feelin'." It starts off innocuously with Qtip on the mic as usual, but its not long before the organ solo and distorted guitar get their way under your skin. Q-tip sings us out and ends the song on his own, as if to remind you that, yes, this is still his album. "Do U Dig You" features a lengthy and aimless jam-session between Gary Thomas on flute and Kirk Rosenwinkel on guitar, and sounds like Prince's lost contribution to Bitches Brew. "Blue Girl" is typical Neo-soul a la Rafael Saadiq or D'Angelo (by now you shouldn't be expect a lot of actual rhyming on this album, although there is some), until Q-tip tacks a short verse on the end out of nowhere.
Q-tip takes further chances on "Barely in Love" which suggests Sly Stone as a Schoolhouse Rock cartoon and stops just short of becoming an all-out gospel jam with its light organ chord progressions and hand-clapping, foot stomping refrain. "Heels" sounds like an attempt 311's brand of palm-muted rap-rock, draped in a goatee stroking jam-bandish rhythm. The ending of the song sounds like everyone from P-Funk is on stage somewhere singing its hook. Synthesizers somehow make a very auspicious and unapologetic appearance right in the middle of it all.
Even if it loses a bit of momentum with the last few tracks, Q-tip's Kamaal the Abstract (named after Q-Tip's self appointed nom de Islam) is pretty solid for an album that never misses a chance to take one. It stands tall next to any of the highly regarded work that his experiment prone contemporaries Outkast and D'Angelo were doing at the time, and it's avant-garde detours are what keep it fresh after 6 years. Just as the rest of the urban music world seems to be catching up with his experimental quirks, Q-tip points out, and helps ensure, that there isn't so much that's new under the sun.
Mainstream hip-hop seems to exist these days in a precocious era of being either unable or unwilling to escape the tendrils of last year's 808s and Heartbreaks. What began simply as an ill-advised onanistic project for Kanye West continues to inseminate this year's most anticipated projects, including Jay-z's Blueprint 3 and Kid Cudi's superb Man on the Moon, with its lightly percussive DNA. The latest release in this vein is So Far Gone by Drake, a Canadian-American actor-ternt-MC and the newest allegiant to Lil Wayne's Young Money Records. Originally released online for free in February as a mix-tape teaser to garner fans with, Gone has been shipped to record stores and online retailers this week as an EP, giving those same fans the opportunity to pay for a slightly updated version with a smaller collection of songs.
In addition to successfully undertaking the momentous task of not being overly cheesy, Kid Cudi's Man on the Moon was able to establish its own sound and identity, where it probably would have been enough to basically make another 808s for 09. While Drake clearly also has his own style, So Far Gone lacks any real edge or semblance of innovation, and eventually loses its edge altogether as it succumbs to a lazy and actually quite boring cadre of songs about relationships. The biggest distinction between his and Kanye's effort is that Drake is the one doing the heartbreaking: "And these days women make offers/and who the hell am I to say/No no no/My ex sendin' late night text/cause she don't know how to let/Go go go," Drake sings on the EP's dreadfully slow moving intro "Lust for Life", the title of which is likely to send Iggy Pop to an early grave to spin around in. It doesn't help that Drake's strengths aren't primarily as a singer, so expect plenty of pitch adjustment-'Death of Auto-tune" this is not. The mediocrity, and confusion for those who wanted to give "next big rapper" a shot, continues with "Houstatlantavegas," which leans much closer to Jodeci than Joe Budden on the Hip-hop spectrum.
The shame of it is that Drake can actually be a pretty clever lyricist when he wants to be. "Wise words from a decent man/back when i was tryin' to put a ring on Alicia hand/this lost boy got fly without peter pan/and my delivery just got me buzzin like the pizza man," he raps on "Successful", on which he manages to outshine both Trey Songz and Lil' Wayne. At times Drake's way of dragging out his syllables, through that half-cocked smile that you just know is plastered on his face can be charming, but there really aren't enough of those moments to strongly recommend puchasing this EP over the version that was made available for free back in February.
So Far Gone will certainly have its audience, however; Drake sums it up himself the best on the lead single-and incidentally the EP's strongest track- "Best I Ever Had:" "When my album drop/bitches will buy it for the picture/And niggas will buy it too/and claim they got it for they sister." Indeed, this is one of those albums that takes shamelessly transparent aim at a younger demographic whose palette has been adjusted by the impossible-to-elude robotic slow jams on today's radio, yet might find Kanye or even Jay-z's recent stuff to be a little too rough around the edges. When his official album Thank Me Later drops next year, Drake will do well to come with heavier material than this if he expects to enjoy any longevity.
The landscape of popular rap music has changed. As reluctant as anyone may be these days to credit Kanye West with anything, his album 808s and Heartbreak has seemingly inspired a new generation of hip-hop musicians with that album’s low-key, quasi-melodical synthesized feel. The most recent protegee being Kid Cudi, hailing from Cleveland with a style of originality which should, by now, feel familiar. That’s not necessarily a bad thing though, because the latest mutation of the “future-core” of rap expands on the whole idea. While Jay-z recently appointed himself as the snazzy trend-setting leader of this new school with Blueprint 3, Cudi’s envelope-pushing debut, Man on the Moon invents its own sort of stonerprog-rock sub genre.
Man on the Moon implicitly asks you from the very beginning to adorn your space-suit (or tie-die shirt) for an interstellar journey which most times sounds like a smoked out, chopped and screwed version of what 808s (which Cudi famously contributed to) could have been. Its concept is tied together as a 5 part epic narrated by Common, who is considerably (along with Andre 3000 of Outkast) one of the Godfathers of hip-hop’s newly acknowledged free spirited style. The end result is perhaps the most potent of all the experimental-and perhaps evolutionary-jabs that have been taken at the idea of what rap music is supposed to be.
Before we completely praise this thing, there are a few missteps. The opener, “In My Dreams” certainly could have used a second take. “Up and Away,” the end-of-the-album alarm clock, might be a bit more saccarhine than most listeners will be in the mood for. “Enter Galactic,” produced by Mat Friedman of ILFONICS, should just be a fun Pharrell Williams meets The Jimi Hendrix Experience club track, yet suffers from awkward wanna-be sex-god lyrics such as “I like when you talk because your voice is angelesque/aye, I want to kiss you on your space/below your naval-ette/the place that you keep meat so moist like/a towelette” Aside from that though, Man on the Moon really soars. The track following "Dreams," “Soundtrack 2 My Life” has a bubbly, hypnotic beat which plays the perfect back-drop for Cudi’s competently done sing-raps, and it’s lethargically upbeat mellowness sets a tone for the remainder of the album which doesn’t exhale until after the ultra-syrupy penultimate track, “Hyyerr,” is over.
Cudi’s lyrics, while not exactly versatile, for the most part uniquely reflect the struggle of an alienated loner who secretly knows that he has something to share with the world, and is waiting for his chance to express it. The lead single, “Day N Nite”, whose spacey thump was heard everywhere this year, to the point of being 2009’s “Hey Ya,” laments on having a cold season of being lonely and misunderstood. “My World” is the musing of an artistic geek who knows that his off-kilter vision will take him places :”None of ya’ll really cared about me/Now, guess what? I’m all you see/This will be my world/I told you so.”
Indeed, there are no guest appearances by Young Jeezy or T-Pain to extol the high-life or the thug mentality. Instead, this very impressive debut from the newest of the recent wave of space-rock hip-strappers, Kid Cudi, is a focused and personable work which is rife with themes of self-doubt and self-deprecation; yet just about every track on Moon gleams with crater-sized confidence in its ability to trip you out.
“Welcome to the future,” the first line from "Off That", a self-congratulatory ode to the art of tastemaking, pretty much summarizes Blueprint 3, the latest release from rapper Jay-Z. With few exceptions, there isn’t much on the Blueprint 3 that will sound familiar to Jay-z loyalists. Last year’s 808s and Heartbreak, aside from being an uneven auto-tune festival, essentially ushered in a new sub-genre of hip-hop , that could be referred to as “future-core.” Jay-Z, featuring Timbaland, Pharell, NO I.D. and Kanye behind the boards, continues and further establishes this movement on Blueprint 3.
The weak album opener “Intro”, which is like a slower, duller “Flashing Lights” does not create great expectations for the rest of the album. However Blueprint 3 gains a certain momentum only three songs in, beginning with “D.O.A.” the album’s anti everything-currently-wrong-with-music lead single. Rhianna does an absolutley chilling hook on “Run This Town” with an eager to shine Kanye batting clean-up. “Empire State of Mind” will only add fuel to the feeling that old-school Jay-z fans have that Jay “went-all-coldplay” on this album; It’s also one of Blueprint 3’s best songs. Alicia Keys sings a stirring hook that will make non New-yorkers jealous, and residents of the city feel at home.
Unfortunately for some of the more established Jay-z fans, the “future-core” sound apparently involves a lot of synthesizers and R&B, which make Blueprint 3 sound a bit-watered down at times. It should be said though that the production on Jay’s albums, while usually supplied by whoever the most popular and respected beatmakers of that year are, has always taken a backseat to the man himself. Even when the instrumentals on this album isn’t always up to par, Blueprint 3 is one of Jay’s strongest turns lyrically. While Jay’s wordplay has always been about the same things (money, cars, women and money), the endless ways in which he finds to discuss those topics, often while employing double and triple entendres in the process, continue to be fascinating. The sort of “Don Draper of hip-hop” persona that he has established with his addictive charm (or plain arrogance) and lack of self-doubt continues here, and you get the sense that Shawn Carter can do in his sleep what other rappers can’t manage to do even after their morning coffee.
Jay’s boasting has never been less unwelcome than on the otherwise increasingly cloying Timbaland-produced track “Reminder”: “10 number 1 albums in a row/who better than me?/only the Beatles/nobody ahead of me/I crush Elvis in his blue suede shoes/Made the rolling stones seem sweet as Kool-aid, too.”Jay-z is probably the most acrobatic lyrically on “Venus vs. Mars”, boy-meets-girl story gone bad told entirely in metaphor: “Thought Shawty was the truth, found out she was a cheater/we were supposed to Takeover, I caught her bumping Ether/I thought shawty like Mike, found out she like Prince/thought she was Adrian, it’s been Rocky ever since.” The alluring, almost psychodelic Timbland instrumental ensures that this will be a strip-club favorite for many years to come. “On to the next” is one of the true gems on the album; Swizz Beats supplies the hook and a backing beat reminicenst of Snoop Dogg’s “Drop it like it’s Hot.” “Next” is appropriately followed by the hyperactive “Off That” featuring new-comer Drake. Another freshman rapper Kid Cudi has a guest turn on “Already Home” which features a lovely blend of horns, violins and hand-claps that are sure to enrapture any fan of good music after a few listens.
Blueprint 3 asks the question, much more effectively than Kingdom Come did, ‘Where to go from the top?’ Jay’s answer is to branch out and go beyond the archaic gun-talk and soul-samples that were prevelant on the first Blueprint album, and swerve into yet another lane going at least ’bout 80 and waiting for his contemporaries to catch up with him. Whether or not he will be succesful in blazing a trail for those that to follow is yet to be answered, yet those in doubt about his status as the king of rap are promptly quieted.
While not exactly a concept album, Raekwon's 1995 solo debut Only Built for Cuban Linx, is considered by many to be one of the greatest gangsta films to ever be put on wax. Even back then, tales of sex, drugs, murder, and betrayal were nothing new to hip-hop; yet no one had been able to illustrate them with quite the cinematic quality that Raekwon was on Cuban Linx (think Scarface: The Musical). It was the album that essentially launched the sub-genre known as Coke-rap, which enjoyed a surge of popularity back in 2006 with Clipse's Hell Hath No Fury, and more recentlywith Rick Ross' Deeper Than Rap.
Gangster films rarely ever get sequels, though, since the main players usually end up dead or in jail by the end of the film. When they do get made, they often rarely deserve to share shelf-space with their predecessors. After 14 years, the Wu-Tang resident chef returns with his attempt at a true sequel to his own classic, appropriately titled Only Built for Cuban Linx II. But Linx II doesn't so much continue a story more than it continues the themes (deals-gone-bad, treacherous partnerships gone sour, and familial bonds kept strong) that were laced throughout the original. The result is an epic combination of lethal beats, vivid lyrics, and cut-ya-head-off swagger that has been missing from so many of the more recent Wu-tang releases.
The album's lead single, "New Wu" (alternatively titled Wu Ohh), was something that die-hard Wu fans thought they may never hear again after last year's dreadful 8 Diagrams: stunningly soulful production from the RZA himself with guest verses from Ghost and Meth. RZA (who single-handedly produced the first Cuban Linx) is all over Linx II, even when he isn't; J Dilla does his best impression of the Wu Abbot's style on “House of Flying Daggers” (which also features Ghost and Meth along with Inspectah Deck), and returns to handle production on the ODB tribute, “Ason Jones.” Along with the departed Dilla, Raekwon gathered beats from the best producers around; Alchemist, Pete Rock, and even Dr. Dre contribute enough heat to this product to make it harden.
The beats aren't the only reason to tune in, however. Wu-Tang members GZA, Cappadonna, and the ever-reclusive Masta Killa make appearances sprinkled throughout the album. Jadakiss, who seems to be sort of a journeyman of guest appearances these days, shows up along with Styles P on “Broken Safety.” Beanie Sigel drops by on “Have Mercy” to acknowledge and contemplate his own sense of aging. "Gihad" pretty much belongs to Ghostface Killah, who spins a dramatic tale of an altercation with his son in a verse which will remind heads why he belongs in their list of top rappers working today.
If it sounds like Cuban Linx II has the ingredients of a classic album, it's because it does. This is an albumthat'sgreater than the sum of its parts; Cuban Linx II should have been a total disappointment, yet it actually exceeds the standards created by its own hype. This isn't some hollow flash-in-the-pan collection of tracks to keep heads bopping only until the next big thing comes along; this is music that lasts. Hip-hop fans will be decoding the wu-slanguistics on this album for years, which hasn't been done with a Wu-tang release since the Forever days. After the recent wave of pretenders to the coke-rap throne, the originator has made a refreshing return to the game to show how it's done.
Ever since the age of 12 when I tricked my grandmother into taking me to the theater to see Pulp Fiction, I have been a fan of Quentin Tarantino; however plagued I have been with doubts about his actual talent level ever since its follow-up, Jackie Brown. While that film has only appreciated with age, when I first saw it I wondered if he would ever be able to attain the greatness of Pulp Fiction ever again. The Kill Bill films and Death Proof were dumb fun, and never aspired to any higher goal than that, but to me they lacked what I would call The Tarantino Charm (Kill Bill 2 had its moments for me, though). This is why I am beyond thrilled to report that his latest film, a revisionist World War II shoot-em-up called Inglourious Basterds, is indeed a glorious return to form for the greatest director to emerge in the last 15 years.
I don't know what it is about his style, but Tarantino's movies always make me feel like I am watching something that was made 30 years ago, and in a good way. I think it has to do with the lighting that he uses, as well as tricks such as the accidentally-on-purpose film blemishes that were found throughout Grindhouse. The trademark dialogue is back too; the characters don't necessarily talk like real people, however they do talk like characters in movies should. He even finds a way to show off his genius by shoehorning in a few references to 1940's pop-culture, reminiscent of the table full of gangsters sitting around ruminating on Madonna in Reservoir Dogs. As a matter of fact, if Inglorious Basterds recalls any of Tarantino's earlier work, it would be that film.
Basterds opens with a French peasant farmer chopping wood in an idyllic farmland while his daughter dries clothes on a nearby clothesline. She is alerted by the sound of an approaching Nazi caravan, and from then forward the film achieves a level of tension that does not relent until the beginning of the next chapter, of which there are five. This tension often returns though, and is rampant throughout Basterds. It is most thick in scenes that have the involved characters sitting at tables and speaking quietly; voices, for the most part, are raised only in the films few moments of celebration.
Tarantino continues the fascination with blondes he's seemingly had since Jackie Brown, centering the film around the sublimely beautiful Melanie Laurent. Laurent plays Shoshana Dreyfus, an escaped Jew living under an assumed name in Nazi-occupied France, and whose movie theater the Nazis want to use for the climatic premiere of their latest propaganda film Nation's Pride. In another subplot that converges with all of the others that the film offers up, Shoshana is relentlessly courted by the film's star, Fredrick Zoller, who happens to also be a Nazi war hero himself.
The character of Shoshana is more central to the plot even than the eponymous Nazi-hunting Basterds (led by a hilariously scene-chewing Brad Pitt as Lt. Aldo "The Apache" Raine), who get sort of shuffled off the side and are barely tangential to the plot. This works however because it turns Inglorious Basterds into a very different movie than you expect going in, and the results are a pleasant surprise to say the least. Consequently, when the Basterds are on screen, they quite literally steal the show.
Christolph Waltz portrays the film's most repulsively alluring character, Nazi detective Col. Hans Landa, with a terrifying smugness. His presence on screen will cause many to shift in their seats; no matter how pleasant his demeanor or how much he smiles, he has an underlying menace that simply cannot be concealed.
QT even sneaks in some effective stunt casting: see if you can identify who is behind the two disembodied voices heard in the film. Also amusing is the cameo by Mike Myers, playing a British Officer (imagine a rejected Austin Powers character) who briefs Michael's Fassbender's film critic-turned-spy while Winston Churchill sits in a corner and looks on silently. It is a very effective scene that, like many in Inglorious Basterds (and Tarantino films in general), stop the story completely without slowing the film down. All in the name of providing exposition which gives the following scenes more meaning.
And Basterds is easily Quentin Tarantino's most meaningful and sophisticated effort yet. Nation's Pride is a film-within-a-film that seems to consist of nothing but a Nazi sniper in a tower taking head-shot after head-shot at defenseless American Soldiers. The fictional audience simply laps up the display of gratuitous violence, much like the crowd that I sat in the theater with did during the film's ultra violent feel-good climax. It's at this moment that InglouriousBasterds poses a question about violence-as-entertainment that seems like it's barely meant to register; don't blame yourself for having too much fun to think about it.
I had a bit of a sci-fientific weekend, which I was not a expecting. I had planned for the last week to see District 9, a semi-dystopic/apocalyptic what-if about humans on earth learning to co-exist with stranded aliens who want nothing more than to return to their home planet. While the concept held a lot of promise, the execution proved to be less than stellar; especially in comparison to the other movie that I saw this weekend, Moon.
The back-story of District 9, which is told in a sort of documentary style, goes like this: a mysterious alien ship arrives within the stratosphere of Johannesburg, where it hovers for three months with no indication of its purpose or intent. The African Government finally decides to intervene and bust open the ship, revealing an entire race of starving aliens who are taken off the ship and placed in slums to reside temporarily where they come to be referred to by unhappy locals as the pejorative "prawns." The aliens inexplicable love of cat food is exploited by merchants who sell them vittles in exchange for lots of cash and weapons from the ship. Somehow they also manage to pimp out human female prostitutes to the aliens as well. Whatever. I was willing to overlook silly details such as this given the premise of the film. At first. District 9 is centered on Wikus, a field operative of a fictional agency called the MNU (Multi-National United), which aims to confiscate as many alien weapons and technology as possible for military use, which it turns out, only the aliens have the ability to use. Wikus is sent into the alien ghetto to round up as many “prawns” as he can for shipment off to concentration camps, and here the film begins to arbitrarily switch between documentary and narrative storytelling. At first a sympathetic character, Wikus before long succumbs to the xenophobia and hatred of the alien race shared by his fellow South Africans. While raiding one house, occupied by an alien named Christopher Johnson and his son, Wikus finds a cylinder filled with a curious black liquid that sprays all over him. This liquid happens to be an energy source that Chris planned on using to power the ship back up so that he can get his alien brethren home. This fluid turns out to be the deux ex machina (see Quantum Flux) of the film which catalyzes a major plot point in District 9. You see, not only is the liquid some sort of the fuel for the ship, but it also has the ability to fuse human DNA with Alien DNA. This is one of many eye-rolling contrivances in District 9 that is hard to swallow. Once he begins to transform from man to prawn, Wikus is forcibly withheld by the MNU for testing with the already confiscated weapons. When they find out that Wikus has the ability to operate the alien guns, they plan to keep him indefinitely before he finds an opportunity to escape. He becomes a fugitive being tracked by the MNU, and one big bad mercenary in particular. His infamy is widened by news reports that he is part alien because he had sex with an alien, complete with photographic evidence. Because that makes sense. Wikus is also wanted by the local African warlords, portrayed as barbaric cannibals, who believe if they eat the aliens, they will inhabit the alien DNA which will in turn give them the ability to use alien weapons. Sigh.
Wikus, now realizing the folly of his prejudiced behavior, eventually teams up with Chris Johnson, and together they break into the MNU labs and steal the precious liquid, which will not only get Chris and his son home, but will also somehow transform Wikus back into a human so that he can return to his wife and children.
And it continues to get sillier from there. I’m all for suspending disbelief, but I haven’t been challenged so aggressively to take a film seriously like this since I watched Haute Tension. Especially for a movie that attempts to be allegorical about race relations on earth, namely Apartheid, it is especially audacious.
At the halfway point, D9 sadly turns into a sort of low-budget version Transformers, albeit with half a brain. Shame on Peter Jackson for putting his name anywhere near this; District 9 makes Lord of the Rings look like a historical tome. Please wait for the DVD.
We had some free time, so afterward we snuck into Moon, which I had heard of, but was not aware of the exact plot. Being a fan of the lead, Sam Rockwell (Confessions of a Dangerous Mind), was the only motivation I needed. The movie centers around an astronaut, also named Sam, on a three year solo-mission to harvest an energy source called Helium 3 from the moon. The movie begins as Sam is reaching the last two weeks of his mission, and his understandably anxious to return to his family. He is kept company only by a robot named GERTY, who I expected to turn evil and try to kill Sam a la HAL 9000; however this is not the case.
The real plot kicks in as Sam goes on a reconnaissance mission to retrieve more Helium 3. A hallucination causes an accident which knocks him unconscious, and he wakes up an unspecified amount of time later with little memory of what happened. He tricks GERTY, who is put under instructions from home base not to let Sam outside, into letting him leave the spacecraft. Sam takes the rover back out on the surface of the moon to try to investigate the site of his accident and makes a startling discovery. To go any further would ruin the experience, and this is a film that I do not want to spoil.
While District 9 sets its sights on making a statement about the connectedness (or lack thereof) of humans, Moon explores what happens when that connection is broken, and questions whether or not that connection even actually exists; it also manages to take a few jabs towards the end at the lengths of corporate greed. Although a little slow in parts, I really enjoyed watching Sam’s story unfold, as Sam himself became increasingly unraveled. Catch it while you can.
Let's see what Alchemist has been cooking up for his second solo album. Does he still have Mida's touch behind the boards, or is his latest effort a bunch of fool's gold?
INTRO Intro starts off with a light piano tinkle backed by various record scratches and sound clips of people discussing imminent chemical warfare. “I don’t think they’re dropping them on us right now, but they seem to be preparing.” The calm before the storm.
ALC THEME ft. Kool G Rap Then the gauntlet drops. The beat of ALC Theme reminds me of the track that slid alchemist into my top 3 producers working today, “Letyourselfgo” from Evidence’s Weatherman LP. In order words, this track’s a banger. Alchemist leads the track with a verse of his own, making up for his famously lacking flow with some clever wordplay: “You can T-ell/I ain’t a p-unk/ I was raised off the P-funk/getting blazed and d-runk..” Then Kool G Rap jumps on the joint, employs the same flow, and effectively murders Al on his own shit. Oh well.
LOSE YOUR LIFE ft. Snoop Dogg, Jadakiss, and Pusha T The beat on this one is kind of boring; your usual run of the mill horror core beat. However, the guest verse from Jadakiss sounds gritty as fuck and keeps it from being totally skippable. And I guess I would rather hear Snoop Dogg do the hook than Alchemist. Pusha-T from The Clipse kicks the last verse.
"Lose Your Life" ends with another in a series of skits featuring the ever shady and out-of-touch Jerry from Swindle Management, which carries over from Alchemist’s debut album, 1st Infantry. This time Jerry is heard trying to convince Al to focus on “bigger and better things” such as ringtone sales and endorsements for Listerine, which will make him bigger than “That other white kid, what’s his name, Justin Timberwolf.” Ha.
CHEMICAL WARFARE ft. Eminem Now here is a ringtone I wouldn’t mind having, even though I can’t stand the things. Alchemist lays down an funky organic bass line for Eminem’s freestyle, which eviscerates everything from Sarah Palin to The Jonas Brothers to the Octomom in a single freestyle verse. It’s too hilarious and condensed to quote from. It’s a return to form for Eminem and safely better than anything on his last album Relapse. It’s also probably the best beat on Chemical Warfare; Alchemist really rose to the occasion on this one. And yes, Eminem, you did say Octomom twice in the same rap.
GRAND CONCOURSE BENCHES ft KRS-ONE I am not a fan of KRS-ONE. In some circles, that’s blasphemy, I know. His voice just grates on me. However, this track really grown on me over multiple listens. It doesn’t hurt that the beat is vicious, and KRS really shines on it while recalling the beginning of his rap career. He even throws a few subliminals at Nelly.
“Benches” ends with a skit about hip-hop credibility, featuring a debate between an internet nerd/underground rapper named Lyrical Scientific Superior and a gangster rap duo called G and Eric (get it?). The backpackers feel that Alchemist has sold out for making his beats too gritty, and threaten to ban him from the blogs unless he returns to his Rawkus days. G and Eric don’t like this, so an altercation ensues. It has its moments.
THERAPY ft. Evidence, Blu, Talib Kweli, and Kid Cudi Alchemist loops a blissful, noodling guitar lick which gives Therapy a sort of hypnotic effect. In two words, this song is blunt fodder. In a few more words, this one was meant to blaze to; most of Alchemist’s music is. Al’s childhood friend and frequent collaborator Evidence (as well as lead member of Dilated Peoples) opens with the first verse. The track also features Blu, an unrecognizable Talib Kweli, and Kid Cudi on the hook. I would have liked to have heard a little more from Cudi since I personally think he is among the most promising of the “freshmen class” of new rappers.
The track ends with a collage of sound clips that sound like Al pressed all of the buttons on his MPC at once. Next!
THAT’LL WORK ft. Three-Six Mafia and Juvenile Alchemist’s stuttering bass line and shiny computer blips attempt a southern bounce which accommodates guest verses from Three-Six Mafia and Juvenile. One thing that I have noticed about Alchemist is that he seems to do his best to make other rappers comfortable so that they can be themselves on the records he produces. This is in sharp contrast to uncompromising beatmakers like Dr. Dre and J-Dilla, who seem to force rappers to step their game up in order to match the quality of the music. It's good to hear Juvie again, and Juicy J is once again puts his tongue-in-cheek ignorance on display: "I ain't ashamed/to make it rain/but I rather buy/cocaine."
This track ends with what sounds like a voicemail from an aspiring rapper seemingly trying to justify his own existence and oersuade Al to listen to his demo. “Smoothing out my rapping” makes me lol every time I hear it.
SMILE ft. Twista and Maxwell. This conga drums on this reminds me of “Boost the Crime Rate”, from 1st Infantry, except the tone of that song is very different. Al actually opens the track with an inspirational verse about keeping a positive attitude and working hard. This is probably the most radio-friendly track on the whole jawn. Twista shows up and it’s not long before he is spitting in double time and decimating the track. I know I have been critical of his flow, which Al himself has admitted is lackluster in various interviews, and while he isn’t completely terrible he is so easily outshined by his guests it makes you wonder why he even tries. Maxwell does the hook.
“Smile” ends with a phone conversation between Al and Prodigy of Mobb Deep, who is calling from jail. It segues nicely into…
KEEP THE HEELS ON ft. Prodigy Prodigy, who isn’t exactly known as a romantic, attempts to bring sexy back on this one. Even though the song is purely about sex, the beat is so sinister it sounds like gunplay could break out at any moment. I am guessing this is one of the few verses P gave to Al before going into the clink for gun possession. Prodigy imparts some advice for those trying to close the deal with that jumpoff from the club: “Keep 'em talking/don’t let ‘em think for a moment/turn the music up/lights down/we gon' fuck/right now/start sucking they tits/and push they head right down.” Nice. There aren’t many rappers other than P who can make a sexual encounter between two consenting adults sound so violent. Speaking of which..
ACT OF VIOLENCE ft. Gangrene This is the debut of Gangrene, Al’s upcoming side project with Oh no. They both lay down a verse. Not especially notable. Skippity.
LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION ft. Lil’ Fame This one has Lil’ Fame from M.O.P., who G and Eric from the debate skit earlier in the album kind of remind me of. These guys are always threatening to put a hole the size of “blank” in someone’s head. Zzzz.
SOME GANGSTA SHIT ft. Fabolous Fabolous lays down what I think is sort of lackluster verse with exactly memorable line: “I ain’t getting no younger, bitch/I ain’t Benjamin Button.” His lethargic flow matches the sparse drum track rather well, though.
ON SIGHT feat. Dogg Pound Daz and Kurupt from the Dogg Pound, along with Lady of Rage (I wonder what rock she’s been under) stomp all over a thick synthesized bassline. Pretty good, but nothing exceptional, other than the fact that Lady of Rage is still alive.
TAKE A LOOK BACK I am pretty sure this is a sample from Pink Floyd’s “Shine on You Crazy Diamond, Parts I- V” (can’t seem to find my liner notes), but I’m not sure. It would make fitting source material though, since this album closer is essentially Alchemist calmly reflecting on his career and assessing his current status as a budding legend in the hip-hop game. Not a bad way to wrap up the album, although not really what you would call a “hot joint.”
BONUS – UNDER SIEGE ft. Gangrene This should have been on the album in place of the other Gangrene track. I didn’t care for this song when I first heard it with the accompanying lo-fi video, but it has quickly become an addiction because of its odd marriage of clean sounding church organs and messy distorted guitars. Al redeems any lackluster verses that were on Chemical Warfare with his spot on this one.
All in all, a very solid effort from Alchemist, who is evolving into a more and more consistent producer with each release, although his mic skills still need some work. Recommended.
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