N.O. Easy 3-Peat

"I love being misunderstood /Why?/Cause I live in the suburbs /But come from the hood"

The self-proclaimed, Best Rapper in the World, Weezy F. Baby delivers his third installment of Tha Carter to much anticipation. For so long, rappers have straddled this invisible, impossible line between staying true to the people from their hoods and appealing to the people that will pay their way out of the hood. How can you sell a million records and still stay true to the people that were blowin your tracks out of their Deville back when you were your hometown's best kept secret?

Enter: Tha Carter III

The supposed final piece of tha Carter trilogy feels like a streamlined, polished piece of art that strives to be better with each listen. And with the cover art parodying Notorious B.I.G.'s Ready to Die and Nas' Illmatic, his intentions are heard in volumes: He's here to change the rap game. In the song, "Mr. Carter," Wayne fires, "And next time you mention Pac, Biggie, or Jay-Z/Don't forget Weezy Baby," which just furthers his efforts to align himself with the few rappers that have been able to bring the hood with them on their rise to super stardom. And if this record were his resume for the title of greatest rapper on Earth, the references of Kanye West, Jay-Z, and Babyface might just push any doubter in his favor.

The first single released off the album, "Lollipop" will forever be the song that changed Lil Wayne from great rapper to great artist. Suddenly, Wayne was heard all over the world on the radio, T.V., and club due to that song. The sweet melody layered in between the robotic-sounding, yet sweetly crooning voice of Wayne exposed a new path for hip/hop to follow. Hot on the heels of Kanye's Daft Punk remix of stronger and T-Pain's successful singles, "Lollipop" took all the above and meshed it down into a syrupy banger that would open eyes towards Wayne and his hip/pop music endeavor.

Beyond the disorientating nature in which he delivers his message, Wayne has more one-liners than the entire cast in the movie, "First Sunday." Self-diagnosed in the song, "La La La:" "Wittier than a comedy/Nigga write a parody/But I ain't telling jokes...apparently," Wayne is so lyrically different and talented, it can come across as laughable.

"...Savage like Lil Webbie and Randy..."
"...Even Gwen Stefani said she couldn't doubt me..."
"...I don't O U like two vowels..."

Nearly every line is a double-entendre and while this builds an interesting rhyming pattern, it is the intended meanings that drive this record. Both "Comfortable" and "Tie Me Down" are Wayne's most straight-forward songs on the CD besides "DontGetIt." Sounding strangely exposed and intimate, Wayne explores love and loss in ways that go past the usual rapper's bravado. Using Robin Thicke, a certain soul is infused into "Tie Me Down" that conveys the evolution of the already elder Wayne in the rap game. Just further proof that Wayne has come a long way since riding the coattails of rappers such as Juvenile to finally grab the spotlight himself at an old 25.

This record is one of the most important rap albums in a long time because Wayne now stands poised as the next legend. Successfully bridging the gap between pop and underground hip/hop with this album, the hard part is now over. With Jay and Kanye talking about other avenues to explore, music needs Weezy as much as Weezy needs his music. Creatively, he will try everything to demonstrate and illustrate his martian-like environment in which he operates, and the fact he already has a decade of musical work under his belt means the progression into the jarred, inexplicable mind of Wayne is far from over.



8.5/10


This. Is. Truth.

Gnarls Beck-ley

It's hard to fault a guy for having the bravado and talent to release such an insignificant piece of work. I don't mean insignificant in the meaning that this is a bad record, there's just very little about it that stands out in comparison to Odelay and Midnite Vultures. Beck Hansen has never been afraid to let an audience into his inner sanctum that is his music. It's hard to believe the anthem for the whole emo world in "Loser" is over 12 years-old. Once you get over the fact that this album isn't reminiscent of those records in the mid to late 90s, you might appreciate its odd texture and disorientating structure.

All but one track produced by DJ Danger Mouse, you can definitely tell his hand was all over this record. Starting with the track, "Orphans," the sound of space is infinite. You've heard Beck do this on a couple of tracks on Sea Change, such as "Lonesome Tears," but never this deep or satisfying. While Sea Change had the feeling of a natural, flowing stream, Modern Guilt sounds like a mechanical, gnawing beast. Danger Mouse preserves the best of Beck with critical, precise drum samples that sometimes leave even Beck hanging off the polyrhythmic pattern. "Orphans," a fun-loving 60s melody with enough meat to keep you bobbing your head for days, has a dark interior. In fact, if there was one summation for this record, it could be that this may be the darkest record in which to dance alongside in his discography. "Cast out these creatures of woe/Who shatter themselves/Fighting the fire with bare hands," croons Beck. Danger Mouse and Beck weave ominous prognostications with obscure laser sounds, clapping hands, scratchy synths, and plugging bass lines like it's old hat.

And it does sound old. Beck sounds like some journeyman from your parent's generation. Fusing country rock with everything under the sun, there is a certain belief that he could mix a red and blue crayon in his hands and produce the perfect purple hue. In the first released single off of Modern Guilt, Beck decides to unleash the incredibly infectious tune, "Gamma Ray." Sounding like a B-side off of Gnarls Barkley's The Odd Couple, the use of space and reverb only serve to amplify this song's true spectrum. Starting with the toe-tapping guitar riff, Beck starts in with, "Trying to hold/Hold out for now/With these ice caps/Melting down." A true hippie at heart, California's son continues to unleash his fears and warnings under the soundscape of a Byrds' song played in fast forward.

It's undeniable to hear his angst bleeding out of tracks such as "Chemtrails" and "Volcano," resounding his struggles to appease everyone including himself. His darkest track on the album, "Chemtrails," recalls watching so many people drowning in seas swallowed by evil. To be a Beck fan, you do have to go through songs where Hansen can be self-effacing and deprecating and this is no different. However, even through these moments, where his voice lurches through the songs in a pathetic pace, there is a tranquil beauty there that begs for a compassionate ear.

"Youthless," one of my favorite tracks, is simple in design. With a crunching guitar riff juxtaposed with his voice dubbed in a stop and go fashion, the haunting track screams Abercrombie and Fitch and will, undoubtedly, be a staple at your local GAP. Timed under three minutes, this song is an implication of the record's length. Modern Guilt wasn't designed to mull itself over. 10 songs is all Beck needs to plant the seed and wait for the innocuous virus to sublimely take hold.

Perhaps it doesn't need re-mentioning, but this isn't Midnite Vultures and that's ok. Beck has chosen to ditch Carl Stephenson, The Dust Brothers, and Nigel Godrich for a collaboration that works with Danger Mouse. And though not really bringing anything completely fresh to the table, he manages to produce music that spirals in the shape of a double helix, taking his lyrics and melodies that are altogether parallel, yet joined at the hip. Born to a musician and visual artist, perhaps it's time to resign to the fact that making good music is in his DNA.


8/10

This. Is. Truth.