This
thing they call Hip hop is evolving at such a fast pace these days, it’s
seriously hard work for a grizzly old school punter like myself to keep up. And
of course these days, 30 odd years after the genre took its first formative
steps on the mean streets of New York, the definition of “old school” is now something
completely different to what it once was. For me it means Sugarhill, Def Jam, Grandmaster
Flash, Eric B & Rakim, Public Enemy, the Beasties, and the earliest b-boy
delights of Mantronix. For others, it will mean something far more contemporary.
Over
the years I’ve abandoned any crazy notion of trying to keep up with a genre
that only very rarely connects with me on any level beyond the superficial. But
there are certain exponents of the form I’ve tended to follow ... at various
times I’ve really enjoyed the work of The Roots, Mos Def, and Common. The odd
album from Dr Dre (The Chronic) and Nas (Illmatic) have also left their mark,
but generally I’m what you might call a Hip hop sceptic, and the more commercial
the art-form has become, the less inclined I’ve been to embrace it. I dunno,
maybe it’s just a contrarian thing.
And
then there’s this guy, Talib Kweli. I can’t really say I’m a big fan but Kweli
has frequently proven a reliable option whenever I’ve felt the need scratch the
surface and dig a little deeper, whenever I’ve despaired at the overblown generic
crap being served up under the guise of “Hip hop” by commercial radio or other
forms of mainstream media.
Kweli
has an impressive body of work behind him and I thought 2011’s Gutter Rainbows
album was probably his best effort yet (though, in fairness, I haven’t heard a
lot of his really early stuff). Either way, my enjoyment of Gutter Rainbows was
the catalyst for me downloading Prisoner of Conscious when it was released
earlier this year.
At
first the album title itself comes across as being a little absurd … no, it isn’t
supposed to be Prisoner of Conscience … I’m told that Kweli’s reference to “Conscious”
comes from his standing as one of the leading exponents of a sub-genre called
Conscious Rap.
So it’s Prisoner of Conscious, and that description does at least align with the type of material we’ve seen on past work, which has been more about the social and political, and less about the size of his wallet or the number of notches on his bedpost.
So it’s Prisoner of Conscious, and that description does at least align with the type of material we’ve seen on past work, which has been more about the social and political, and less about the size of his wallet or the number of notches on his bedpost.
I
have to say though, this album is something of a disappointment. I had expected
more and very rarely does it rise above the ranks of the ordinary. It lacks a
certain vitality and zest, the rhymes at times come across as slightly laboured,
and despite there being some high profile names among the support cast –
Kendrick Lamar, Busta Rhymes, and Nelly, for example – this isn’t anywhere near
as compelling as it once might have been.
Of
the 15 tracks on offer – at just under an hour of listening time – very few really
stand out. ‘Turnt Up’ appeals as something of a curiosity with its ‘Paid In
Full’ Mark 2 eccentricities (of both beat and flow), while the hired help of
Miguel comes up trumps on the slowjam ‘Come Here’. Other than that, there isn’t
much here to really grab me.
The
album feels front loaded, and it seems all the best bits occur within the first
20 minutes. The second half in particular becomes an exercise in applying a
little patience, one that isn’t really ever fully rewarded. I’m continually
tempted to activate the metaphorical fast forward and the occasional auto-tuned
chorus is usually more than enough to persuade me to do exactly that.
Ultimately,
the most disappointing thing is that I know Talib Kweli is capable of much
better than this. I’ll probably give it a few more spins in the months ahead
but I won’t be revisiting this one with any degree of regularity, and when I
do, I certainly won’t be harbouring the same level of expectation I did upon
its arrival in my inbox.
I
could be kind and suggest that the rest of a very mediocre field has slowly
caught up with Kweli, but I genuinely don’t believe that’s the case. With
Prisoner of Conscious, it feels like the opposite applies, that Kweli has lost
a little of his former mojo, and this work feels like one giant step back into
the abyss.
No comments:
Post a Comment