ALBUM REVIEW: Lupe Fiasco- Tetsuo & Youth
I’ve always wanted more from Lupe Fiasco. Not because his early albums were particularly great, and not because of “The Hype” (which, in recent years, has been almost nonexistent). He just,on the surface, seems like something Hip-Hop needs. He’s got a ton of charisma, as proven by his massive verse on Kanye’s Touch the Sky from nearly 10 years ago. He also represents a conscientiousness that, in recent years, has fallen to the wayside to let sentimentality permeate through rap music. Lupe Fiasco should be more than just an afterthought, but his entire career has been built on afterthought after afterthought. Lupe Fiasco’s attempt at an experimental epic, Tetsuo & Youth, is just another entry on a long list of forgettable albums.
Let’s first talk about how derivative this attempt at a Hip-Hop epic is. Unlike albums in the pantheon of ballsy mainstream experimentation (namely, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Take Care, and good kid, m.A.A.d. city), Tetsuo & Youth haphazardly throws interesting ideas around without really thinking about them. Sometimes these interesting ideas are directly taken from other artists (The choir at the end of Blur My Hands sounds way too similar to the chorus on Drake’s Lord Knows, while many of the strings on Dots & Lines sound like they’re lifted right out of Kendrick Lamar’s Poetic Justice). Half the time, songs sound like they belong on latter-day Kid Cudi album.
Other times, new ideas just fail to launch. The folky banjos that bookend Dots & Lines are laughable (Seriously, I laughed really heard when I heard them for the first time), while the back half of Prisoner 1 & 2 sounds like an Akon song with all of those unsubtle jail noises. The Max Fischer style interludes, while pretty, do nothing to integrate with the rest of the album. Everything seems rather thrown together, without any thought going into a legitimate sense of cohesion.
ANGRY REVIEW INTERMISSION: Seriously, what the hell is up with conscious rappers trying to tackle the word “Faggot”? Lupe Fiasco tries to do something with it on Prisoner 1 & 2, but it just fumbles around on the ground. It lingers, mostly because it’s not remotely tasteful. J. Cole tried the same thing on Born Sinner a few years back, and that also didn’t work. Why bother? Simply saying “Faggot” is not going to become social commentary on its own. It needs context, and none of these rappers are doing so. It’s almost better when Tyler, the Creator is shouting it at people without any social intent. Ugh.
Which circles back to another thing that just doesn’t work on Tetsuo. Part of the problem Lupe Fiasco has is that his conscientiousness is unfocused and uncreative. Other rappers in the same “Conscious Rap” boat can often deliver a message in a way that is either communicative or entertaining. Common gives a clear message with a clear voice and direction, being very clear about what he is trying to say. Meanwhile, guys like Killer Mike will bash their message over your head with gusto, again being very clear. Lupe Fiasco seemingly drops buzzwords and ideas into songs without crafting them into something beyond that: ideas.
Lupe’s lyrics bounce around without really saying anything. He gets distracted by stories and anecdotes that confuse everything. Prisoners 1 & 2 is saying many things about the prison system of the United States…but I still have no idea what he’s saying other than “Our Prison system is bad!”. Then there’s Body of Work, which I think is about sex? All of this would be fine if Lupe was an abstract rapper…but he’s not. He tends to be very clear within individual lines, but none of the lines become cohesive within the songs. Lupe Fiasco himself also lacks a lot in the delivery department; his voice and delivery are incredibly monotonous, and this becomes painfully apparent on songs that sprawl beyond the 5 minute mark. He works in the capacity of a singular verse, but he often runs on fumes during a single song. This is a problem on an album with 16 lengthy songs.
A massive epic is hard to pull off. Some have done it with obviously rewarding results (Kanye), and others have done it in ways that reveal themselves slowly (Childish Gambinos’s Because the Internet is a perfect example of this). Tetsuo & Youth is mostly dead on arrival, failing to conjure up anything big to say or any moments that feel legitimate. It’s just one big flop from a rapper who, sadly, has made a name off of ambitiously creative flops.
Summary: Tetsuo & Youth is a confusing and unrewarding concept album from a rapper without much to legitimately say.
Choice Cuts: Mural, Dots & Lines
Leftovers: Chopper
D+
Tetsou & Youth is out now on Atlantic.
ALBUM REVIEW: U2- Songs of Innocence
In the third grade, I loved Star Wars action figures. Too young and stupid to realize that the prequels sucked, I made my parents buy me whatever plastic piece of garbage had Star Wars logos plastered all over it. I had like 4 Ki-Adi-Mundi figures- you know, that dude who had a heart in his head or something like that? During one Christmas get together, my aunt and uncle had purchased me a crab robot thing (It was in Star Wars, apparently…) that I had already had. I made a big fuss about it, because it’s something I didn’t want. My parents said “Appreciate the gesture, and stop being selfish”.
In Kindergarten, I got a Scooby-Doo shirt from someone at some point in the year for some kind of holiday. I wasn’t really into Scooby-Doo. My parents said “Appreciate the gesture, and stop being selfish”.
At about the same time in that Star Wars phase, I got a giant Sam’s Club box of Star Wars fruit snacks for Christmas. I know what you’re thinking: “Who gives fruit snacks for Christmas?”. It was an awesome gift for about 4 hours until all of the fruit snacks had been viciously consumed. I complained to my parents about a stomach ache and the terminal nature of the gift. My parents said “Appreciate the gesture, stop being selfish”.
One time I got an iTunes gift card when I was the owner of a Zune. My parents said “Appreciate the gesture, stop being selfish”.
I didn’t want dinner one night. “Appreciate the gesture, stop being selfish”.
Whenever I got something I didn’t want, something that I thought was awful, this was the response. Even if it was a garbage can full of dead skunks and human sadness. Even if it was a candy gram informing me of the death of a loved one. Even if it was a DVD that had the TV edited version of Pulp Fiction.
Appreciate
the
Gesture
Stop
Being
Selfish
I’m Sorry, world. I’m sorry, my aunts and uncles. I’m sorry, whoever gave me that iTunes gift card. I’m sorry, dinner.
I’m not sorry Bono.
Summary: Songs of Innocence isn’t really any good.
Choice Cuts: Song for Someone
Leftovers: Every Breaking Wave
D-
Songs of Innocence is out now somewhere on your computer. Their next record Big Brother is out sometime in the foreseeable future.
ALBUM REVIEW: Jenny Lewis- The Voyager
When does Poptimism go too far? At one point can we stop forgiving any and all pop music’s weaknesses solely because of how poppy it is? The Voyager is that point. We have reached the axiom of pop forgiveness, because The Voyager is one of the most unbearably cloying albums to come out this year. It is pop music devoid of any and all true personality and originality, retreading ground that Carly Simon and Sheryl Crow have already buried. While my mother would tend to have rather decent taste in music, she does have a tendency to like a lot of very generic sunshine beach pop. The Voyager is so blandly in line with bland summery music that it almost feels like a parody of the genre.
While I’m not well versed in Jenny Lewis’ previous solo album (and I’ve always respected Rilo Kiley, but their music has never really inspired any passion within me), it’s impossible to imagine that The Voyager would actually build upon something before it. Lewis’ voice isn’t horrendous, but there’s nothing remotely unique about it. While pop giants like Katy Perry seem to fit into the same lane, Perry has a distinct voice that gives even the dumbest of songs a sense of fun or distinction. I would never be able to pull Lewis’ voice out of a line up. Every song has the same general range, and her voice is nothing more than a tool to deliver lyrics over an instrumental.
The Voyager does have something going for it lyrically, as it does explore some vaguely interesting themes involving gender roles and youthful exploration, the music backing these lyrics is entirely banal. The bright sounds are almost overwhelming, as if someone is forcefully pouring sugar down your throat and using licked lollipops to torture your nipples. There are dashes of strings here and there, and plenty of guitar solos. But they all feel relatively tacked on. They give the songs a weird twang that doesn’t sit particularly well. Some songs even begin to veer into shiny pop country that further pushes comparisons to Sheryl Crow, who made an entire career out of doing this sound. Instrumental and vocal flourishes don’t add to songs, they take away. The creepy chorus on Late Bloomer gives it a minute darkness that feels like it was yanked from a completely different song. The verse and chorus completely clash in a nonsensical way, letting the song fall apart at the thread.
There are some decent melodies, as any pop album should have. Slippery Slopes does have a really sweet chorus for it, perfectly utilizing Lewis bland vocals in a way that actually works. While it’s quite simple, the chorus on The New You is pretty and comfortingly simple. While The Voyager is a bit generic, it never slips into the entirely annoying sunshiny vibes that plague most of the songs on the album. Yet, a lot of the choruses either feel incomplete, or they don’t fit the song. You Can’t Outrun ‘Em has a chorus that, while memorable, never really fleshes together in an organic way. The Voyager is just pop sans the fun, and singer-songwriter music without any tangible heart.
Summary: The Voyager is pop done wrong, with a heavy emphasis on sunshiny songs that irritate rather than entertain. It’s an overproduced and ultimately boring affair.
Choice Cuts: Slippery Slopes, The New You, The Voyager
Leftovers: Late Bloomer
D+
You can stream The Voyager below. The Voyager is out now on Warner Bros.
ALBUM REVIEW: Sia- 1000 Forms of Fear
Before Sia decided to become some go-to hook deliverer, she was something more. Fans of the show Six Feet Under certainly remember her stunning song Breathe Me being used to soundtrack that program’s final moments. It’s a song so powerful that plenty of other TV shows have attempted to establish some moments of emotion by using the piano and string driven explosion (It’s also been used by shows like CSI Miami and one of those ABC Family shows about emotional teens and their parents that don’t understand them). The fact that it’s been used for emotional catharsis numerous times shows just how powerful of a statement it is. 10 years later, Sia has moved on from that sound, and much like the death Breathe Me has sound tracked, it’s something to be mourned.
With 1000 Forms of Fear, Sia has abandoned the “Indie” in Indie Pop. This record is a straightforward pop album with twinges of R&B and Soul popping in and out at various points. While there are moments of intuition and inventiveness sprinkled throughout-The vocal sample that drives Elastic Heart, the bizarre instrumentation that’s prominent on Fair Game– the album predominantly ditches any attempts at expression and real emotion. Big hooks and non-threatening song structures reign supreme over Sia’s album. It’s not surprising that this is the direction she has taken, figuring she’s lent her distinctive vocal to artists like Flo Rida and David Guetta. However, reflecting on what she has done up until this point, it still comes off as a major disappointment.
ALBUM REVIEW: Ab-Soul- These Days…
With the rapid development of buzzy rap crews in this new decade, it has been rather frustrating witnessing how meekly covered the minor players in these crews can be. Hodgy Beats will always be compared to Tyler and Earl, A$AP Ferg will always be compared to A$AP Rocky, and all of TDE will always be compared to Kendrick Lamar. Reviews of late couldn’t be more off by putting albums like Schoolboy Q’s Oxymoron and this record against Kendrick’s 2012 masterpiece, good kid, m.A.A.d. city. These albums will never reach those heights, and should be viewed on their own accord. It’s unfair to compare albums that don’t necessarily warrant such a comparison. However, even when separated from the TDE dynasty, These Days… doesn’t really work.
Ab-Soul has always struggled to find his footing and identity, always wearing other peoples flows like he’s Hannibal Lector wearing a mask of human flesh. Sometimes he’s a thug, sometimes he’s an eccentric weirdo, sometimes he’s a radio rap superstar. He’s never all things at once (Something that weirdly/perfectly describes his TDE partner Schoolboy Q). Ab-Soul even has a tendency to ape whatever his guest rappers are doing. Over the past couple of years, the guy has never dropped a guest verse (or verse of his own) that sounds distinctly original. It’s all derivative of something else. Even the songs that veer into somewhat unique territory feel derivative of something relatively trendy. Closure is one of the better tracks on the album, but it sounds like a Chance the Rapper throwaway. On Stigmata, Ab-Soul has a slow and reserved flow, not unlike that of featured rapper Action Bronson. Then there’s W.R.O.H., which sounds like a late era Cudi track…so yeah.
Vantage Point Music 