Dear Kendrick Lamar (re: 'good kid, m.A.A.d city')

40s next to the baby bottle. It's no question where you are.

I've said it time and time again, but dey don't hurr me doe: The best hip-hop albums are portraits of the time, place, and mindset of the artist behind them. They draw from experiences seen and told to the artists, incorporate the sonic memory of what that artist is experiencing, and draw the listener into a world viewed through the artists' eyes.

Nature versus nurture; it's the oldest conflict in the book of human development and interaction. Is one a product of their environment, or do the sum of those products make the environment? After listening to your debut, Kendrick Lamar, I'm convinced there needs to be an urban studies symposium or class or certificate program regarding it. Holding true to its name 

good kid, m.A.A.d city

, is a portrait of the battle between nature and nurture: a black child whose inborn 'goodness' is chipped away at by his gritty urban surroundings.

The good kid you portray is clearly a smart one, as evidenced by his constant introspection. One of the first things I noticed in the story is the push and pull relationship that comes with groupthink. You muse, "Rush a nigga quick and then we laugh about it / That's ironic 'cause I never been violent, until I'm with the homies." Throughout GKMC, you grapple with your own decision-making because though you're capable of making informed decisions, frequently decisions are made for you. Whether out of circumstance, laziness, or influence of drugs or alcohol, you more often than not seemed to be carried away with a wave of bad intentions. Even in trying to develop a mature relationship with a young lady it is obvious your appetite for sex will ultimately trump your desire for emotional comfort and security:

A fatal attraction is common, and what we have common is pain / I mean you need to hear this / Love is not just a verb and I can see power steering / Sex drive when you swerve, I want that interference / It's coherent, I can hear it... mmhmm, that's your heartbeat / It either caught me or it called me, mmhmm

Kendrick, listening to GKMC is like watching Spider-Man fall victim to the Venom symbiote. You know that the anger that fuels the symbiote will make Spider-Man stronger, but that same symbiote will kill all pure ambitions within him. It's a tough album to critique with a moral compass because the listener can interpret your descent into that m.A.A.d city ambiguously.

Speaking of ambiguity, there's another prevalent theme in this album. While you grapple with acquiescing to your nature or nurture, the ever-reaching grey area between right and wrong rears its confusing head in almost every song on GKMC. You debate whether it is better to be predator or prey in such a vicious jungle, saying "Everybody gon' respect the shooter, but the one in front of the gun lives forever." Neither is an enviable position to be in, dying a hero or living as a villain. You recant on your past trespasses, too, wondering if your present good deeds and intelligence can erase that past on 'M.A.A.D. City':

If I told you I killed a nigga at 16, would you believe me? / Or see me to be innocent Kendrick that you seen in the street / With a basketball and some Now & Laters to eat / If I'm mentioned all of my skeletons, would you jump in the seat? / Would you say my intelligence now is great relief? And it's safe to say that our next generation maybe can sleep / With dreams of being a lawyer or doctor / Instead of boy with a chopper that hold the cul de sac hostage

That imagery is ridiculous, especially in light of the rash of violence in Chicago or the Trayvon Martin killing. No matter the littered past of a teenager, who is to say that the same teen couldn't end up curing the world of epilepsy or become President? Aspirations, regardless of how attainable, seem to all be misguided in your world though, Kendrick.

The title tracks of the album, expertly placed in the middle, give way to the vices in the second half of the album. 'Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst' that shows the true ill of your story: thirst. Thirst for love, thirst for fulfillment, thirst for money, and thirst for direction lead you and your compatriots astray so many times, that the prayers of an old woman couldn't possibly sway you. You can't help but quench it in 'Swimming Pools', because the holy water the woman speaks of isn't feasible in the way you would want it to be. As a good kid in that environment, the visuals of drugs, sex, violence, and crime are much more influential than that of a God whose presence you can't see. The city pulls your gaze in so many directions that it's impossible to tell what deserves attention and what is real. 'Real' details that conflict, making light of the choir of voices begging for your ear:

But what love got to do with it when I don't love myself / To the point I should hate everything I do love / Should I hate living my life inside the club / Should I hate her for watching me for that reason / Should I hate him for telling me that I'm season / Should I hate them for telling me ball out / Should I hate street credibility I'm talkin' about / Hatin' all money, power, respect in my will / I'm hatin' the fact that none of that shit make me real

Fame is a bitter medicine by your tastes, Kendrick. As a good kid from a m.A.A.d city, you're happy to have gotten yourself away from the chaos of that city, yet clubs, credibility, influence and fame aren't necessarily the antithesis to your rough upbringing. They seem more like a different part of the city, rather than an entirely different city. Maybe that's the answer to the nature versus nurture question. You can take the good kid out of that m.A.A.d city, but it's impossible to take the memory of that m.A.A.d city out of the good kid.

No matter how far you get away from that city, Kendrick, its ills, its vices, and its pitfalls all served to make you the man you are today. You're not ashamed of your city. Kendrick Lamar is a product of Compton. It was so fitting to end the album with a track titled after your hometown, featuring Dr. Dre nonetheless. Just Blaze-produced, it was a horn-laced yet hard-bodied anthem showing the bravado of a bastion of West Coast hip-hop. Though you deride the bad, you know your city is full of good kids like yourself. You would rather show off your city for what it is, 'responsible for taking Compton International', than continue to languish in hatred for the madness that it engenders. It's like I said: your album is a portrait of Compton and your experiences in that city during your formative years. You rose above that m.A.A.d city to show that you can be a product

from

your environment without being a product

of

your environment.

Dear Drake (re: Take Care)

The Midas touch?? Ehh... Debatable.

The truth is such a paradoxical concept. They say the truth sets you free, yet the truth hurts. Half a truth makes a great lie, but when you find the truth, it's more that you've found a truth. Truth is sought by the masses but attained by the few. Truth makes for great art, but only when placed in a palatable medium. Such is your issue, Drake. Your truth is a complete paradox. It has certain aspects that everyone can relate to, but make people (especially men) so uncomfortable, that they can't accept it. While you make music that embraces the whole gamut of male emotion, you are so unabashed in your portrayal during Take Care that it is impossible for the average man to listen without casting improper libel on your name, Drizzy.

Sidenote: I'm tired of people labeling any type of defamation via social media 'slander'. For you non-lexical thinkers, the proper term is libel, or defamation by written or printed words. Slander is the same, but spoken. I know it's splitting hairs, but with the way writing is going down the pooper, I had to make the disambiguation.

Take Care was named so because you supposedly rushed the production of Thank Me Later and wanted to take your time while putting your sophomore project out. Production-wise, this is a masterful album. It does not have the beautifully eclectic sound that Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy has, but centers on the sonically dark, sensuous sound that marked Thank Me Later. It is obvious that you were heavy handed in your production, taking care to make this your album again.

Content-wise, the truth you convey is anything but careful. From your verses to your features, the honesty of how (excuse my French) fucked up the industry makes the artist, is evident. Kendrick Lamar says it best when he muses about the penchant for music to beget sex:

Live the ambiance all cause the audience / One day said I would do it / So instead of a verse being read / Ima go ‘n get some head off the strength of my music

The themes of love lost and the downfall to fame are exceptionally reckless, almost reminiscent of a melancholy teenage love affair. No stone is left uncast (not a word, but it sounded hot) when dealing with the hurt of being broken hearted, whether by one's own doing or by the ills of another. It is this truth, that love does indeed hurt, that makes Take Care so off-putting to the host of caveman-esque listeners saying you're as soft as terry cloth, Drake.

Songs like 'Marvin's Room/Buried Alive' only serve to add flames to the firestorm of softness allegations, yet the candidness afforded is undeniable. What stone-hearted ogre can truly say that they've never been hurt? How is reveling and thriving in light of hatred pointed towards one's art considered 'soft'? Drake, your truth is one that is seldom seen, yet needed in this day and age. 'Lord Knows' is a positive example of this truth. For all of the flak aimed at your neck, you've got Teflon both metaphorically and on the track with Ross as you deflect criticism about your place in hip-hop history:

They take the greats from the past and compare us / I wonder if they'd ever survive in this era / In a time where it's recreation / To pull all your skeletons out the closet like Halloween decorations

It used to be a case where a rapper's dirty laundry was only aired out on wax. Now that MTO and TMZ and Necole Bitchie and whatever other gossip sites there are lend themselves to that end, that line is extremely powerful, even though it will fly over the heads of most in terms of gravity.

I have to say, Drake, that listening to Comeback Season before So Far Gone before Thank Me Later before Take Care was a HUGE mistake. The change in your style is almost ridiculous. From the rapper who idolized Phonte to the syrup-sipping YMCMB harpy, it's a bittersweet transition. Did you have to lose the socially awkward, prodigally-talented ideal that marked your earlier works in the pursuit of fame? I suppose you comment on that phenomenon on 'Underground Kings':

Live a little, cause niggas die a lot, and lie a lot / But I'm the truth -- that's right, I fucking said it / The living proof that you don't gotta die to get to heaven

Is that really the truth, Drake? Is that really your truth? I'm not sure which truth to believe from you, Drake; the tortured musician or the ballin' outta control rapper. It seems as if the latter is prevalent during this album, as with the last.

The downside to truth is that not everyone's truth is palatable to a wider audience. Drake, as much as I appreciate you discussing the plight of heartbreak, you need some other kinds of truth... Seriously. Big Ghostfase allusions aside, this album explored a whole new frontier of emotion. I wasn't ready for such a sultry ambience while listening. It honestly had me at a loss for words, especially when 'Doing it Wrong' came on. Of the 18 tracks on Take Care at least half dealt with women in some way. Really, Drake? I know they say that women drive the majority of record sales, but that doesn't mean the truth you convey should be entirely centered around the fairer sex. Jay-Z would be disappointed, as his chorus on '99 Problems' claims. 'The Real Her', was more of the same, oozing with heartbreak from the soul of a tortured musician. Yes, it's relatable, but only for a while. (see my post on Joe Budden's woman troubles) After essentially visiting the same theme on Thank Me Later, you would think you'd stop hitting industry parties and strip clubs looking for your Cinderella, Drake. Come on, son... The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. There's got to be a new impetus for your next musical work, or I won't be able to stomach it again.

I had to wonder why your album started to sound like a wasteful-spending broken-hearted, broken record halfway through, and I could think of one reason: Weezy F. Baby. The Clown Prince of Syrup-Influenced Music has infiltrated what little integrity the music industry leaves in most artists and destroyed it, Drake. The result of this unholy union is a track like 'Practice'. Drake, I may be classified among the rank-and-file of so-called haters, but this has to be one of the most God-awful pieces of music I've ever had the displeasure of blasting through my speakers. Never mind that you tried to turn a twerking anthem into an R&B song, or that Wayne must be paying a grills-worth in royalties to Juvenile, or that an appearance from The Lonely Island is the only thing separating this song from being a parody. This was the equivalent of sticking scalding butter knives in my ears, Drake. Hearkening back to my theme of truth, someone in that studio needed to tell you the truth about that song. Lack of truth is the reason Eminem's recent work sounds like a watered-down cocktail and why heads will never be able to accept that death in hip-hop doesn't equal martyrdom. Your sophomore offering shouldn't have suffered from the truth being withheld in your recording process. It's clear that while this album was inherently yours, there was a lot more Young Money in your Kool-Aid than most listeners would be lead to believe.

Drake, I'm conflicted in writing this letter. While I commend another good listen, with more shades of emotion being exposed for a mostly emotionless listener-base, I can't condone a lot of the songs, content and decisions made concerning Take Care. It's almost as if you don't believe a lot of the truth you're conveying. You can deflect the and hate welcome the praise, but you can't even begin to describe what got you there. You may be able to wax philosophical about the ills of trying to find love, but you probably will never get any closer to finding it. You may be a 'king' in your own mind, but are one sitting on a throne in jeopardy, mostly of your own doing. The bane of truth is not only being able to convey it, but also being able to use it to grow. I think what concerns me the most about Take Care is the lack of growth. It's as if this album had a confused take on the same truth from Thank Me Later, resulting in a melancholy, teenage hormone-laced version of what should have been the album. That's the truth; the careful, unabashed truth. You need a reality check, not only to stop you from bigging up your gun-toting henchmen, but also from letting the pain of girl problems completely stain your work. It will make for a more widely-accepted and enlightening truth on your part.

Dear J. Cole (re: Cole World)

I was beginning to think you were going to be relegated to the fate of Dr. Dre and the artist formerly known as Young Jeezy, Jermaine. No, seriously... It has been a long time coming, but finally, the kid from Fayettenam who came to the city of New York with his beat machine and a matriculation to St. John's has released his oft-delayed debut, Cole World: The Sideline Story. I'll admit, Jermaine. I was a bit reticent to give this a listen. As of late, I'd gotten disillusioned again with the direction rap was taking; valuing names and sensation over actual skills, placing novelty over quality, and deeming anything with two decent songs a 'classic'. And in your case, I'd grown bored of your 'struggle raps'. Yet, to veer from what makes you great rapper would be stupid. I eat my words at what was a precursor to a seemingly illustrious career ahead of you.

To accurately touch on Cole World, though, I have to hearken back to a line from 'Friday Night Lights' that describes your position at the moment:

To the college kids no scholarships starting your semester / unpacking your suitcases filling up your dresser / enjoy it while you got it, after that it’s God bless ya / life is your professor, you know that b*tch is gon test ya

That line exemplifies your music, Jermaine; the hardships of transitioning into true maturity. Cole, to be honest, I feel like I've become an adult listening to you over the past two years. Your music has been the soundtrack to the strife that a college student goes through, not only before, but after graduation. Embarking on my own life's journey, it's hard not to embrace your genre of 'struggle music'. If the three mixtapes were college, Cole World is definitely the culmination of an undergraduate tenure and the start of a promising life and career. As a graduate, to see you in the throes of a world tour, a successful (by today's standards) album, and a promising future, is inspiration.

Starting off with the story of your signing to Jay-Z's Roc Nation is akin to the offer letter a grad gets from the huge firm. Add 'Dollar and a Dream III' and 'Can't Get Enough', to that, and you have the perfect juxtaposition of seeing the spoils of victory arisen from the mire of hard work. The next track, 'Lights Please', a holdover from 'The Warm Up', makes the perfect transition to the 'Interlude'. Even as a successful black man, it is nearly impossible to evade the long arm of the law. The album starts out showing how many aspects there are to such a caricature, from the diligent, to the frivolous, to the pensive, to the sensual.

My favorite song is the secondary titular track 'The Sideline Story' because it brings all of those aspects into view, along with reaching for the loftiest of goals. Your assertion that 'Can't nobody tell me what I ain't gonna be no more / You thinking I'mma fall, don't be so sure' is a thumbing of the nose to a system that tries to put everyone from college graduates to rappers and everyone in between in boxes. Rather than follow a pattern or formula, you do what is in your nature, and nothing more. In that same song you say 'Some niggas ask me why Jay never shout me out like I’m supposed to give a f*ck.' That line does wonders for so many reasons. Despite the fact that Jay is a mentor to you, and is on your album (albeit on the next song), you not needing him to cosign you is the greatest sign of independence I've seen in hip-hop today. Everyone in rap is trying to be the next Jay, and here you are espousing your freedom from that delineation. You, the graduate, the next up at bat, are standing up on your own two. Rather than look to the top for guidance, you looked to yourself, something that I want to do in my own life. Much like LeBron dropping the number 23 to leave his own legacy as number 6, you are making your own path.

Cole World goes on with another titular track that sounds as grimy as its namesake. The song, while a huge pat on the back, seems a bit misplaced. I suppose when the first half is as loaded as yours, you can't help but get a little sloppy. 'In the Morning' and 'Lost Ones' pick the album back up, juxtaposing the sultriness of mid-morning lust with the pain of fathering a son out of wedlock. Frivolity versus futility, salaciousness versus subjection, Cole, you show the duality that ails the young black. It is a weighty discussion that has been in our minds since we knew what sex was, and that you explore both sides in 'Lost Ones' is exceptional.

The album hits a short a lull after this, to me, Jermaine. It seems as if the postgrad world indeed has its peaks and valleys. A lot of the subject matter you touched on in the first half is revisited, albeit in a different manner, but still rehashed. The track with Missy, while valiant, sounded sluggish aside from Missy's chorus. 'Rise and Shine' didn't really do much for me, and seemed like a filler track that could have honestly been left out, as did 'God's Gift'. 'Never Told' takes the issues of non-communication in a somewhat roundabout way, while in an ascending fashion, 'Breakdown' shows the weakness that our generation has when faced with trying situations. Yet as the Missy song implies, no one is perfect. One of the things that our generation of young adults must contend with is learning about life while living it. That means making mistakes, and letting go of old things. That second part is the theme of 'Nothing Lasts Forever', where you recant on love lost and learning to move on. For me, that was a welcome song, having a new chapter of my life to start.

Your original lead single, 'Who Dat', is the perfect way to end Cole World, as it signals a changing of the guards. Your name is a non-issue if you continue to improve and spit flames, Cole. This album had no 'certified bangers', which honestly was a high point for me. Rather than relying on a single to do your work for you, you put out something that has to be listened to. One can't passively listen to you, Jermaine, although songs like 'Work Out' and 'Can't Get Enough' are certainly radio-friendly enough to draw a buzz. Is it a turning point in hip-hop? I'm not sure. With the way that Wayne, and Ye-Z (see what I did there?) sold, we might not see the rise of a oft-called 'conscious MC' for a while. But it starts with the college kids and graduates. #occupywallstreet, Obama's election and a new youth movement are certainly examples of this shift, and your debut album can be one of the many sounds to march to. Your ideal seems to be warming up to the world, Cole.

Dear Kardi (re: The Valedictorian)

"F*ckin Shaft music, nigga... No homo"

DOWNLOAD: Kardi - The Valedictorian

There's certain MCs that you can't help but feel. Not because they grew up around the same conditions and in the same circles as you, or because of random references that fly over the heads of most. Some MCs make you feel what they're saying. It's because of their gift for words and ability to paint a picture that draws you to their work and keeps your ears perked up and head nodding. Yesterday, I had the pleasure of listening to your sophomore offering The Valedictorian which arrived in my inbox promptly this weekend. I saw all of the blogs and websites posting it, as per usual with music nowadays, yet no one offered any perspective on it (also becoming the sad norm). Kardi, let me say this: This album made me pine for a time not long ago in time, but far far away in my mind. Being a senior in college and recanting on my time, I can't help but be nostalgic listening to The Valedictorian.

The album starts out on a melodic note, with 'Convocation' sounding off on the aspirations of a high school senior with rap as a goal, but college as a fall back. You sound so hopeful, so filled with joy that one part of your life is closing and another is set to begin. There's an air of arrogance to everything you're saying, clearly derived from being 'America's nightmare: young, black and educated'. At the same time, theres humbleness because you know there's so much more to accomplish, both in rap and school. As a freshman, the possibilities can be so distracting, but there's a main theme to this tape. In being a 'valedictorian,' you espouse focus as a tenet in your rise to the top, something no one seems to talk about. On the track 'Busy' you offer an apology to the people missing you, simply claiming the rigors of a burgeoning rap career and college tenure. It's endearing, especially for anyone who has aspirations that college classes get in the way of.

There's also a nature of duality that The Valedictorian comes with, based on that same battle between academic and non-academic success. Whether in the battle between classes and performances, or trying to keep a steady girlfriend who wants more time than you can give her, balance is necessary, not only as a freshman but as a college student in general. On tracks like 'Black Ferris Beuller' and 'Joke', you don't forget to flex your lyrical muscle, so that it's clear your talent belies your freshman status. Making light of the generation of 'swag' rappers who deem it better to copy than create, you outshine them, showing the Prep for Prep pedigree (P4P stand up!!) that helped to get you to college in the first place.

See, I'm something like a black Ferris Beuller, getting medulla from my tutor while I'm pulling Buddha

Quick bars like seem to roll off your tongue effortlessly, which was impressive. You definitely have a gift for spitting fast. Yet, at times you seemed to get ahead of yourself to the point where I had to rewind songs to catch the full gist of your statements. That's not a bad thing for heads who enjoy listening to rap, but for the untrained ear this might get laborsome. Try and slow down, and with purpose, so we can get the full benefit of hearing what you have to say.

Overall, The Valedictorian put older MCs to shame because it was reminiscent of the freshman perspective, yet showed a wisdom beyond your years. It's not the soulful kind of hip-hop J. Cole puts out. It's much more charismatic, like a freshman extending his hand during orientation. This album had a sound, a feel and a theme to it. It wasn't just a mish-mash of songs thrown together for the sake of it. Much like an undergraduate course of study, there is a plan, and it's clear you're sticking to it, Kardi. Excited for more work from you? I am. Who knows where you'll be in four years, much less one? Just make sure to enjoy the ride, because college moves fast, as do rap careers, though yours doesn't seem to be slowing down any time soon...

eLZhi - Detroit State of Mind

Elzhi - Detroit State of Mind

It seems like everyone's favorite album is Illmatic now. The past few years, I've seen so many _______ State of Mind tracks, it's sickening... And here's another. But it's eLZhi, though. The Slum Village member has always been one of the more underrated MCs out, despite his knack for falling off the radar for months on end. I suppose prodigious talent needs time to breathe, much like Nas. For his ELmatic LP, eLZhi decided to take on the gritty instrumental that makes you want to blow cess in front of a bodega wearing fronts, tan Timbs, and an army suit. He doesn't disappoint either, delivering a performance worthy of an even more underrated Detroit rap seal. He paints a picture few could claim not to visualize. Just listen. ELmatic drops May 10th...

Dear Lupe Fiasco

Buy Lasers HERE

It's been well over 3 years since your last album, The Cool. That album was a dedication to hip-hops obsession with... well, being cool. It painted a picture of the game and what's cool as being these destructive, yet enticing entities, that would tempt even the most righteous among us. I suppose that is one of your appealing traits as a rapper: your ability to reveal what we celebrate in this 'game' for the detriment it is. When it was revealed that Lasers would finally be released, I rejoiced, not only as a fan excited for new Lupe, but also because it would be a far cry from your usually pithy tone. No longer would the listener not be subject to the thought of how much we're losing. We're lasers, not losers! We don't have to be all melancholy about the way hip-hop is going! We can protest in front of Atlantic Records and get your album released! We don't have to let the labels decide what we have to listen to! That's what I thought Lasers would champion. It turns out we were wrong. Lasers was a disappointing reminder that no matter how much 'we' push, there's a huge chance 'we' won't get what we want. And you were the first person to learn that, Lu.

I won't get into the fact that you derided the album after it leaked or have been lambasting your own effort. That's for you and only you to live with, given the high standard of work that you usually hold yourself to. As a listener and fan, that happening is a bit disconcerting. Even if you weren't doing that, the album still doesn't live up to the height. It starts with a rousing piano solo on 'Letting Go', then delves into an abyss of half-baked choruses and muddled verses. You spoke a lot about war on this song and did a lot of introspection, but not in a palatable way. It was almost like you were writing an angry letter to yourself about everything that grinds your gears, but the letter had no direction and no point.

Lasers continues with probably the best song on the album 'Words I Never Said', a powerful political statement reminiscent of the Lupe we know and love. The song was persistent, unyielding, and unashamed, reminiscent of what I imagine you wanted the album to sound like. You definitely threw that in second so that you could get it off your chest, and then the album takes a nosedive from there. Between 'Till I Get There' and 'I Don't Wanna Care Right Now' the pop-esque instrumentals seem better suited for Flo-Rida than you. Hell, he might as well have been on one of those songs. This is clearly where Atlantic had their way with you. The Trey Songz feature couldn't have been more misplaced, and the track, 'Out of My Head', had the depth of a Jersey Shore reunion. Given how easily you tended to speak about love on your other albums, this was a huge disappointment. You rapped in circular monosyllables, all about superficial things and not the romantic minutiae that endeared you to the fan (think 'Sunshine'). I felt horrible bopping my head to the song. You and Trey could've definitely collaborated and come up with a better song, though I'm not sure Trey has the capacity to go 'deeper' anymore. Even so, 'The Show Goes On' saved Lasers from the dreaded 'halfway point pause-and-never-play-again curse'. Its uptempo vibe brought the listener in and while you didn't RIP your verses, it was hard not to like them.

After that, the album takes another nosedive. It seems like you were sleepwalking through those next two tracks featuring MDMA, and it was hard for me to keep awake during them. You talked about the future constantly, but had a flow sounding like it was stuck in the mud:

They like 'how come you don't rap that' / Cause that's a backtrack / and I ain't tryna back back

Really, Lu? We're taking it back to preschool? This is coming from the guy that wrote 'Dumb it Down'. What happened to digging deep for conceptual greatness? What happened to challenging the listener? What happened to the type of tracks that make you rewind them dozens of times just to catch one line or metaphor or punchline? It seems like you're faking the funk, or just simply f*cked the funk up. 'State Run Radio' got some brownie points back, but the irony of the track was hilarious considering the puppet strings pulling you throughout the whole album. 'Break the Chain' and 'I'll Never Forget You' were snorefests. By the time I got to 'All Black Everything', I had had enough, regardless of how good a song it was. The damage was done. You had successfully shown how 'conscious' hip-hop could have its manhood taken from it and served on a platinum plaque.

Ultimately, Lupe, Lasers failed because you failed to paint the vivid picture that your manifesto for the album did. Rather than champion 'substance in the place of popularity', you got a #1 spot on the Billboards with what was your least substantive album. Rather than 'think (your) own thoughts', Atlantic spoon-fed you 9 concepts and you choked. Lasers wasn't the revolutionary work of art you promised, and no matter how much you downplay your involvement, it's your album. I'd rather you take ownership for this and come back harder with LupEND or Friend of the People or whatever your next work is (you never know now with you, especially with your precarious label situation). To say this was a bad album is a bit much, yet I can't give this one my stamp of approval. It'd not only be going against my better judgment, but your own words. So, Lupe, enjoy your platinum plaque. Like I said, ironically your best-selling album was your worst content-wise. Lasers or losers, this album proved that it is possible to win and lose at the same time. If that's not enough reason to come back with a vengeance, then this should be your last album just like you said 2 years ago, Lupe...

Dear Vado (re: Slime Flu)

Download 'Slime Flu' HERE

So, I haven't had an letter-form album review in a while... Academia and personal issues were taken up in lieu of consistent blogging. Even so, I still found time to bump new music in between studying and having a regular job. One of those works is that of you, Harlem native, MOVADO (an anagram for Money Outta Violence And Drugs Only). Vado (the shortened version), I was first introduced to you, not through your music, but from the incessant chants of 'Stop it 5' and 'SLIIIIIME' being echoed throughout New York City and the twitterverse. Naturally, it became my mission to find the root of these new sayings. Scouring the internet for those queries quickly led me to your appearances on your mentor Cam'ron's 'Boss of All Bosses' series, which turned me into a fan from the track 'Intro'. Now that a year has passed, it seems only right for your debut to hit the streets...

Slime Flu doesn't waste time with random skits or instrumentals for the intro. Vado, you went right into what the fans wanted to hear: the rhymes. 'Council Music' is an ode to the people in your corner, claiming that 'Word to mother, no greed in wealth; Council rules: Treat my brother as a treat myself', over a silky smooth beat laced with triumphant horns and a relaxing string riff. As a listener, this is gold. Next up was the uptempo track dedicated to everyone's favorite brand, 'Polo'. Now, the remix with Young Dro would have been better, but I think you wanted the spotlight for yourself on your first release. You didn't disappoint me on this, Vado, shouting SLIIIIME to all of the horse-donners and rugby-rockers out there. The overall feel of this album is like nothing I've heard coming out of New York City recently. Unlike Fab, you don't have a sickening infatuation with death or repetitive punchlines, and it shows in your delivery. I think you've perfected the art of saying a lot without saying too much, Vado. On tracks like 'The Greatest', you flexed your lyrical muscle and recounted on your forays into drug dealing and the general Harlem goonery (yes, I just coined that phrase) that most rappers from your locale can't express.

My favorite track on the album had to be 'Beat Knockin', though, where you did venture into metaphorical territory over a Jahill Beats instrumental that does exactly what the title says: KNOCK. Quotables like 'It aint too many that could fool with me / that flu with me, mouth foamin like Blue Penny's / Thought he was Hakeem, the way we shoot semi's' just fly out as the bass turns my earphones into a seismic experience. Vado, you clearly have a penchant for riding a beat. It's a testament to your Harlem roots (and how much of Big L's influence is in you) how easily rhyming comes to you. Fast forward to another banger 'Celebration', a slowed down ballad over piano keys, and your talent shows even more. It's not enough to have bars or rhymes for you. 'Slime Flu' is chock full of songs, not random verses over e-mailed beats. That's not to say that the verses aren't hot. Only a true lyricist (and black movie buff would say 'I go hard as the concrete / Keep a day job on the dark street / Pops, I drop Cane like I'm a part of the Heartbeats / Make ya boy duck when I palm heat'. Clearly, you're not an amateur, and 'Slime Flu'

The next few tracks were lukewarm compared to the first five, though I must say, you had me rewinding all of them, Vado. I've said it before, and will say it again: It's hard as hell to put together a full ALBUM. Throughout the delays (Slime Flu has been pushed back since July) and the leaks, it's obvious that you payed great attention to putting the best 14 songs on this work. Another thing that stood out to me on the album was the lack of features on it. In today's hip-hop climate, that could either be because the artist can't do it by himself (coughcoughDiddycoughcough) or because the artist has a body of work that doesn't need complements to stand out. On 'The U.N.', you said 'Niggas wanna know 'What he got?', 'Is he fly?', 'When he drop?', 'Is he signed?', 'If he hot, can he shine?'/ Think about it. If I wasn't would I rhyme?', answering the numerous questions as to your positioning in two lines. 'Slime Flu' is as the title says: a flu, an infestation, an influx of a different, yet familiar feel in hip-hop. You don't immaturely talk about gunplay or drugs or whatever dirt is on your plate, yet know it intimately, much like the rappers you probably grew up listening to. If the album is anything, it's a warning shot to the rest of NYC: step your game up! Vado, this wasn't a masterpiece, and could definitely use more in the way of content, but as an attempt at what hip-hop nerds would call 'golden era', this is a valiant attempt. The slime flu is spreading and with good reason. Vado, you're here to stay...

Curren$y - Pilot Talk (Trailer)

Besides a few paltry mixtape reviews, my music intake has decreased dramatically... And I finally realized why! 90% of rappers are BORING. No, that's not to take away from the music, lyrics and hard work of the artists I listen to. Yet, I'm not sure if I'd have fun conversing with a lot of these cats outside of the context of music. Curren$y provides an excellent example of a rapper who's mantra is the minutiae of everyday life. Spitta is preparing to release the album Pilot Talk (FINALLY), and rather than leak songs every day and do random, boring interviews answering the same questions, he's decided to go another route with his marketing. The New Orleans MC, and BlackRoc signee tapped Ferris Beuller's Day Off to delineate what the album is going to feel like. And if this trailer is any indication of his inclinations, Pilot Talk should be a piff sandwich with a hefty side of dope sauce. I suppose it doesn't hurt to have Creative Control in his corner, but you have to admit, Curren$y is a hilarious dude. I can't wait to hear Pilot Talk, which drops on the 13th. Check out the trailer and experience the constant musical high that is the Hot Spitta...

Kidz in the Hall - Out to Lunch (ft. The Kid Daytona)

Kidz in the Hall - Out to Lunch (ft. The Kid Daytona)

I looked over this one at first, simply because I haven't been feeling KITH as of late. If it wasn't for Double-O's beats, I might not even be half of a fan. Sometimes Naledge gets dry on his songs. Regardless, the Kid Daytona being on it made me give the track a try. Naledge finally displays a bit of prowess on wax, while Daytona introduces us to a much faster flow and hits the track with line after line. 'Out to Lunch' is going to be featured on the Kidz new album 'Land of Make Believe' (title is a little mehhhhhh), coming out next Tuesday, the 9th...