Chimera Star Junction

Being a producer of value is hard in today’s realm of hip hop.  Your Kanye West figures and Justice Leagues (not to be confused with the relevant-to-this-review Justus League) are big because they either produce for big names (Rick Ross, and yes, pun intended) or for themselves for their own opuses.  A pure producer is a hard line of work in today’s landscape, but they also get the money.

9^th Wonder serves a special role.  He’s one of the more acclaimed producers of 21^st century hip hop, produces as something of a “little brother” if you will to the late J. Dilla and the legendary Primo, and has cosigns from both big name underground types and big name mainstream cats, from the collective he once produced for: Little Brother, to one of those who told us to watch the throne (Jay-Z).  Alas, as a producer he has remained in the backdrop, just putting out dope beat after dope beat and seemingly effortlessly finding dope artists to put dope rhymes to them.

This is why producer albums are so interesting.  They function as showcases of the repertoire and ultimate skill of the beatmaker, and as a result work as non-essential “fuck you” messages to the diehard fans.  This sounds like a bad thing, but it’s a more or less rude way of saying that they have total freedom versus trying to fit into a mold set by outside forces.  This method wins fans, loses others, etc.

Let’s talk something really important before we get into this prototype review: this is NOT 9^th Wonder’s first album.  Dream Merchant, Volume 2 came out a few years back and Volume 1 was a mixtape before that.  This is arguably his second album, and one of the many questions you immediately ask is “Did the sophomore slump hit 9^th after all these years of wonderful delay?”  I hope this review answers your questions.

This is an experimental piece, where instead of just saying what I like and don’t like I’m going to ask a few questions and elaborate on those very questions a bit, which should manifest into an interesting and worthwhile post, with a brief paragraph or two before the actual queries.  Thus, let this Q-and-A review of 9^th Wonder’s The Wonder Years commence. 

The Wonder Years is the result of years of work from professor 9^th Wonder.  Released on his own label, the beatmaker has delved into the depths of his skill and inspiration to produce an album of wide ranging feels, styles, moods and emotions that have manifested into an impressive, if off-balanced, collection.  Is it good?  Is it bad?  The answer can be given through general questions.  So, question one.

Question 1: When did rappers begin thinking it was okay to not rhyme?

I don’t like 9^thmatic.  I don’t like it when producers take to the microphone as a means of “expressing themselves” (need I remind you of Swizz Beatz?) when they do it just fine – and BETTER – on their productions.  When 9^th takes the microphone he “raps” and he isn’t winning any verse of the year awards anytime soon.  To be honest, I like how personal he is with his style, but that doesn’t mean he needs to actually BE on the microphone.  The opening track, Make It Big, features producers 9^th Wonder and Khrysis rapping, and to my surprise Khrysis CAN rap.  Cue the heart attack. 

This is problematic, 9^thmatic, because other rappers and singers on the album deliver on average.  Phonte and Median prove that they have natural chemistry again with Band Practice and newcomers like Kendrick Lamar show up on tracks like Enjoy, but like I said: on average.  Marsha Ambrosius on Peanut Butter & Jelly doesn’t do much to increase her presence in the musical world and Mac Millerdelivers a lazy hook on That’s Love despite passable verses (which are more attributed to the track itself, I admit).  The real issue with this is that 9^th becomes more of a median performer on the album because he isn’t the weakest vocal factor, which is still bad.  I’m just glad he only has one song he raps.  Moving on!

Question 2: Do American producers intently listen to international producers?

One of my favorite hip hop tracks was produced by the late producer Nujabes, on his album Metaphorical Music.  The song is called Lady Brown, and the rapper is from Florida-based group CYNE: Cise Star.  I say all this because I swear I get the same vibe of that song from 9^th Wonder’s Never Stop Loving You, featuring singing Terrace Martin and underground legend Talib Kweli.  This isn’t a question of criticism, just wondering. 

That’s it.  Yeah, I’m just thinking out loud.  Plenty of songs on this album, whether focused on lyrical exhibitions like Skyzoo, Fashawn and King Mez on Hearing the Melody or expanding on the jazzy flows with the nightclub-like One Night, carry the spirit of many generations of music and styles.  This is a plus to the album as a whole.  Yep.  Next question.

Question 3: Where is “So Sincurr”?

When The Wonder Years was first announced, the Big Treal and Tyler Woods track So Sincurr was one of my favorites.  Dirty, nasty, just a total mess, it was beautiful.  It’s a terrific song.  One of my favorite lines: “…and your robust ass can drop coochie juice on my mustache”. 

Question 4: Where the fuck is “So Sincurr”?!

I’m serious, that song was great!  Come on, 9^th!

Question 5: Why so many track features?

Now let me elaborate on this question a bit.  As a producer, you HAVE to have a buttload of features on the album, but my question is why are there so many features PER TRACK.  A lot of these tracks could have benefitted from one or two less artists on them.  Streets of Music is an okay enough song, but perhaps the trio of Tanya Morgan was too much for the track.  Same goes for Piranhas where you have the mysterious Blu rapping alongside unknown Sundown, or No Pretending with Raekwon and Big Remo. 

Stop.  This doesn’t mean that the song is lesser without them; on the contrary: the verses are usually worthwhile, but they seem to stretch the song to lengths or powers they have no business being.  Speaking of which…

Question 6: Why are so many tracks so long?!

Hearing Erykah Badu on a 9^th Wonder track is usually immaculate.  Honey was great.  The best thing it had going for it was that it was at a good length that coincided with Badu’s voice.  Hearing her with Rapsody on 20 Feet Tall is good, for the first few minutes.  Repetition is a cornerstone of hip hop (we call it a hook) but combine it with a somewhat dull beat and it becomes “Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.”

I take it back: it’s not a dull beat, just an unrealized one.  This is the case for many of the beats: the track length doesn’t mesh with the verses and the track itself.  Compare it to looking at a massive mosaic that just barely works as a whole.  This is a consistent case, but not always a deal breaker.  Though I admit, it does bring us to my last question.

Question 7: Why isn’t it as defined as “Dream Merchant, Volume 2”?

This is the meat of the argument I have with this album.  I don’t dislike The Wonder Years but I don’t love it either; it lacks the focus and consistency of his previous effort.  Compare it to the stock market.  Dream Merchant was like a steadily rising stock, not deviating too far from the general feel of the mood of the album as a whole, whereas The Wonder Years has plenty of stark rises and steep drops.  Those of you that invest in the stock market in any capacity know that you have to take risks sometimes, and sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t.  Dream Merchant was safe, but it was a steadily rising safe.  The album worked on a whole because everything blended together so well and made such a perfect impact.  Think of it like a satellite launch: it goes up and has no intention of coming back down.

The Wonder Years isn’t so charitable.  There are peaks and valleys, hills and puddles, and ultimately Make It Big comes full circle to A Star U R and plays like a roller coaster back at the gate. 

In this respect, I can’t fault 9^th Wonder.  He, like I said earlier, has free reign to do what he pleases, and he took some serious risks.  Many artists do this, and the reaction and staying ability of the fans proves their fandom.  Personally, I can’t say I’m too thrilled with The Wonder Years, but it’s worth a listen or two.  Our friend here stepped out of the box and tried something new, but the result is mixed at best.  It’s not 9^th’s best work, but it’s a decent album.  Worth the wait?  For one or two listens, sure.  Here’s hoping his next effort properly portrays 9^th as the star he already is.

The DiZ Score: 3.5 out of 5

“Only thing that keeps Phonte out of everyone’s top 5 is no solo album, period.” – Anonymous.

What can we say about Phonte?  The Little Brother frontman, one half of the Grammy nominated Foreign Exchange, eighties pop music aficionado, self-proclaimed ‘lationship counsla’, and even – and probably best of all – only living relative of the tragically deceased Ladies’ Champ Percy Miracles.  He is all these things and one fucking good rapper to boot.  One of the finest Southern lyricists to ever bless the genre of hip hop, Phonte falls into a category with Philadelphia’s Black Thought or Atlanta’s Big Boi.  All of them are lyrically gifted, dismantle beats, and sadly live in the shadows of the group that they are associated with.

Despite this, however, Phonte has managed to break away from the shade of Little Brother, much like Big Boi did with his solo effort and Black Thought is apparently on the road to doing.  Phonte branched out with Foreign Exchange, remaining part of a group while crafting his own identity.  Still rapping but heavily adding singing to his repitoire, some of his fans turned a deaf ear to him and others cried in loud voices for Phonte to return exclusively to the role of the emcee.  Apparently they never listened to his rhymes intently…

“…heard Phontiga carry a tune and assumed he done got soft/They didn’t understand it was my next direction…”

But the people clamor, and they cry and they beg and they all shed tears and whine intently until they get what they want.  But where some artists concede to their fans, those who subscribe to Justus take their time.  Phonte, in the shadow of Little Brother and the Foreign Exchange, took the mantle as one of the South’s finest but because he wasn’t going for dolo on an effort he lacked the singular indisputable claim to the title.  But no longer.  After a long wait, Charity Starts at Home comes to our ears it was well worth the wait.

“‘Tigallo for Dolo’ is one of his finest verses.  He ain’t gonna reach that level again.” – Anonymous.

The album can be loosely divided into two parts: lyrical exhibitions and the aforementioned ‘lationship counsla’.  This goes much deeper than just rapping Tae and singing Tae.  Part of Phonte Coleman’s appeal has been a natural gift to seamlessly meld together humor, wordplay and relatable subject matter in every line of every verse.  With this gift he addresses blue collar mentality (The Good Fight) and relationships, specifically his marriage and the monogamy therein, a welcome and refreshing shift to the common theme of bitches and hos.

However, when Phonte wants to show off his wordplay, he delivers.  He bursts out of the gate with force with “Dance in the Reign” featuring Sy Smith where he reminds us that he’s on that “separate excrement” and doesn’t let up with “The Good Fight” where he says that he is told to never sell out but asks “what the fuck is selling out when ain’t nobody selling?”

Lyrically, especially on his own exhibitions, Phonte never seems to let up, dropping line after line like sheet after sheet of sound, but he maintains such a relatable tone and appeal that it all flows like water for the listener.  After four exhibitions, Phonte switches to his “lationship counsla” and begins a sequence that goes on for four songs, from “Sending My Love” to “Gonna Be a Beautiful Night”.

“He done shifted almost all his focus on singing now.  His album ain’t finna be shit.” – Anonymous.

These tracks work in a significant and, frankly, charming way.  “Sending My Love” details a man nearly falling to infidelity but choosing against it while “Ball and Chain” does something of a 180 and details the very paradoxes of such a relationship he decided not to betray.  “To Be Yours” is an interlude and “Gonna Be a Beautiful Night” is just what the title says, featuring vocals from Carlitta Durand, and almost like an apology from the transgressions from the song that began the sequence.  This plays out so well, and displays Phonte’s singing prominently while also showing that he can be a capable rapper under any circumstance AND puts into words the plotline of Atlus game Catherine, considering you’re the complacent monogamous type. *coughs*

But what really makes this album?  Phonte’s words alone have the capacity to carry the album, and the singing vocalists are welcome additions, but Phonte shines twice as bright with the production and the guest emcees, all of whom enhance the songs without overshadowing the man in charge.  The highlight of the features comes from “The Life of Kings”, featuring Mr. Slow Flow himself and impressive newcomer Big K.R.I.T.  9^th Wonder handles a grand scope of the production but varies up his style to a degree that it sounds like he’s producing a solo album versus an extension of the Little Brother canon.

“Yeah, ‘Not Here Anymore’ was aight.  Charity Starts at Home might be aight too, I don’t know.” – Anonymous.

All these elements come together to a cohesive and fleeting album.  There’s a question a lot of people had for me personally: does it support your own claim?  It’s true that I am a huge fan of both Little Brother and the Foreign Exchange, and I do claim Phonte as one of my top three rappers of all time, but I’ve never been one to kiss ass.  The question they asked me was if this album would solidify my claim of Phonte being one of the greatest rappers ever.  My response: kind of.

For the fan, this album delivers more of the no-frills observations and humorous metaphors that Phonte has been hitting us with for years, just in a more focused and absolute manner.  For the other listener, it serves as a welcome introduction to a fantastic rapper.  Does it serve as a definitive album?  The answer, yet again, is kind of.  Partly because he sings during that sequence on the same scale just as much as he raps, partly because of other factors that can be felt but not spoken or written.  The constant phrase of “New Tigallo” spoken throughout carries great weight despite it becoming a bit annoying throughout the entire album.  What he’s spitting and singing isn’t new, but it’s might well be another incarnation of his “next direction”.

“Who the fuck is Phonte, Chris?!” – Anonymous.

Who?  After listening to this album, a (still) hungry emcee and one talented musician all around.  While it’s nothing new, it’s old territory treaded on an unbeaten path.  Wicked wordplay and real shit come together to produce something as familiar as your bed at home.  And Phonte was charitable enough to give us a friendly reminder of that charity.  *WARNING: terrible application of title* That’s what it’s all about, right?  After all, charity starts at home.

“Nigga got a Grammy nomination, why WOULD he rap at this point?” said DiZ.  “Because he’s one of the greatest to ever do it, and this may not convince you, but it’s one of the best damn albums to come out in a minute, and hip hop is better for it.  That’s why it’s a five out of five.  Now I’m gonna go get a Woodchuck and some stale Fritos.”

(Written while sober; last quote spoken while slightly inebriated.)

Hype is a double-edged sword.  Prior to release it doesn’t just build up hope but it sets a specific standard depending on who builds it.  For the sake of a media release, be it music, movie, television, etc, hype gives the product a grade of A, B, C, D or F long before it even comes out.  Take that show Lost for one.  Initial hype placed it high enough on the scale of great television shows that broadcast companies were sure to make sure there were multiple seasons.  However, as the show progressed, the A they were given originally became a C, and near the end a D. 

Music is even worse.  Extreme hype doesn’t just set the critical scale but the commercial scale as well.  An album can be hyped up as “album of the year” long before it is even conceived, and when it is released to the world the artist suffers from both failing to live up to unrealistic standards and possible termination because record deals are based on the number of albums you move.  Adding a third blade to the already deadly weapon, if hype consume opinions but overruns basic logic then regardless of how good or bad the album is then it immediately becomes bad.  There it is: the problem with building up hype.

Let’s make this a big equation.  Jay-Z (@S_C_) is considered one of the greatest rappers of all time, with good reason.  Between a catalog of (mostly) critically acclaimed and direct participation in one of the most storied hip hop beefs in history he’s earned his title as Jay Hova.  From a business standpoint he’s the quintessential example for all rapping businessmen to follow, branding his label, spreading it around, making it a household name.  From a personal standpoint he’s going to be forever hated because he’s married to arguably the biggest female pop star in history.  If anyone deserved the throne as hip hop’s greatest example then Sean Carter should be sitting in the golden chair as we speak.  He has few equals, but as king he is in a strange position.  Kings have guards, kingdoms, solid suits of armor that can block even the strongest blows.  When you’re so guarded, so protected, the last thing you worry about is opposition; you don’t even have to fight your own battles any longer.  The hunger that won that crown is long gone.  Complacency is a rapper’s worst enemy.  So is the hungry little brother.

Kanye West (@KanyeWest) is being considered as the finest rapper-producer in hip hop history.  His back story paints him as a musical folk hero of sorts, from his car crash to his failed love life.  His music has been critically acclaimed, from his production reminiscent of the late great J. Dilla to his own works and the massive following he gained as a result.  His style shifted from sample-based hip hop to what he describes as “art pop”, most easily seen with his auto-tune dependent 808s and Heartbreak and the legion of fans he both gained and lost in its wake.  Basking in hedonism, heavy misogyny and light racism, Kanye West represents a strange purity in the world of music, and most importantly he possesses something that his big brother has seemed to lack since he didn’t have to hunt for his meals.

On Graduation, Kanye’s closing song was the appropriately titled Big Brother, and it was without a doubt a nod to his personal rivalry towards the man that signed him (reluctantly) and tried to keep him in his shadow (unconsciously).  Perhaps Sean saw in Kanye what he didn’t have any longer.  Mr. West had and still has a hunger to be one of the greatest, put in the rankings of Mr. Shakur and Mr. Wallace, while Mr. Carter is considered to be up there if not at the top of the list.  Never stated but always seen, a power struggle has been waging between these two rap titans for years now, and with tracks like Run This Town it isn’t hard to see that Kanye is pushing towards the number one spot.  To really understand why Kanye wins however, you have to realize that Jay-Z almost always wins in a lyrical duel between him and Kanye West, but he’s so stagnant at this point that he’s defeated because others can overtake him with terrific skills that would normally rival his, not eat them.  Everyone remembers Eminem doing this with Renegade.  It’s almost expected now, a further sign that someone might need to hang the mic up, even if he can still manage a handful of brilliant exchanges from time to time.

Rap has always been a dick waving contest.  You don’t necessarily have to be the biggest to win, but you have to piss harder than your opponent, and this sibling rivalry has coated so many people that R. Kelly should be taking notes.  With no winner the only solution seems to be to compete head to head directly, letting the people decide whose lemonade is less unbearable.  That’s not what anyone would tell you, but that’s exactly what Watch the Throne is: it’s a dick waving contest between Kanye West and Sean Carter, and both artists are waiting for you – the listener – to determine who is less annoying.  Why else would they call their duo the Throne?  Jay stepped down for a moment because he knows West may be able to take it.

And yes, both of these artists are big draws, so the hype is at a fever pitch.  Does the album fare well?  That depends on what you personally expect from it.  If you’re expecting a collaborative effort from two of hip hop’s most colorful forerunners then you may just be a little disappointed.  If you were listening for Kanye to put a nail in Jay’s coffin, you won’t be quite so disappointed.  There’s no reason this album shouldn’t have the subtitle Kanye Wins the Dick Waving Finals.  Hunger always beats out on basic raw talent, especially when the hunger is in addition to the raw talent. 

Watch the Throne starts with “No Church in the Wild”, featuring Odd Future’s only real oddity and Def Jam’s biggest lost talent Frank Ocean.  Over a menacing beat, Ocean croons a soul-shattering hook (“Human beings in a mob/What’s a mob to a king/What’s a king to a god/What’s a god to a nonbeliever?”) before Jay-Z and Kanye begin their contest with their standard grandiose styles, Kanye exhibiting even more charisma as he never seems to have left his Beautiful Dark Twisted state of mind.  While these two both bring their A+ game, Ocean steals the show.  As we go into Lift Off, the album begins to break apart in the atmosphere.

When Watch the Throne shines, it shines akin to a supernova.  Excellent cuts like “New Day”, “No Church…” and the lead single “Otis” require blinders to give the proper respect to.  They have Kanye in a starving artist mode and Jay-Z reaching into his vault and scraping up any remnants of “God MC” he has left.  When the album hits its lows it feels like they’re dragging their knuckles across the rocky terrain.  Lift Off has them both flowing on a relatively simplistic level and Beyonce’s guest vocals do nothing to add to the song, and Niggas in Paris is lacking in the beat department, which diminishes Kanye’s humor and Jay’s forgettable verse.

This is a trend throughout: usually one or the other will outshine the weaker performer to the point of their words being a remnant of the past.  Other times the guest appearances will either overtake the entire song or render the song obsolete.  West and Carter maintain a mentality of greatness throughout but the songs doesn’t add up most of the time.  The consistency doesn’t just add up, but the meshing of the beats versus the lyrics almost paints the picture that there was little unity between the two realms before the album was even released.

The rise of arena rap can be considered a secondary theme for the LP as Who Gon Stop Me and Why I Love You both stand as prime examples of it, and as arena rap songs they function perfectly.  The production is top notch and if played in Madison Square it would drive people as wild as Michael Jackson when he stepped on stage.  However, because of a lack of continuity and consistency, they shine less than they should because they are far removed from the rest of the disjointed album.

I don’t claim to be a true fan of either man, but my respect for them as artists transcends my fan status for some of my favorite artists, so it’s safe to say that I know about them.  If I was just a casual listener to hip hop though I would think that this album was ultimately fan service to their biggest fans: themselves.  Being cocky and backing it up has been a staple in hip hop since its inception but how arrogant do you have to be to release something that feels half-assed on all but a pinch of tracks?  Both men are shining stars in the game but you shouldn’t need a telescope to see them.  Technically Kanye requires less telescopic use so congrats: your piss just barely reigns supreme.

The real problem is that hype and concession are going to influence decisions more so than the actual music for people.  People who believed that the album would be terrific at jump are either going to call it the greatest hip hop album in recent memory or the dud of the decade.  People who don’t are going to say that the pre-release hype diminished the senses and that we’ll never be able to properly judge.  Nobody is right and everybody is wrong, and the same thing goes vice versa. 

This isn’t a bad album; compared to a lot of high profile releases this is one of the better ones, but from two high profile names it isn’t nearly enough.  Jay-Z can sit back on his golden throne because Kanye didn’t take it away; at the same time he shouldn’t get comfortable because we’re ultimately no closer to a resolution to their little war.  Ultimately it’s not just us that should be watching the throne but Jay and Kanye as well.  It shouldn’t be occupied.

The DiZ Review: 3 out of 5