With a sound reminiscent of 1990s slacker rock, the Atmosphere of 2011 has strayed far from Lucy Ford and its "emo-rap" salad days. No longer just Slug and Ant, the group has expanded to a five-piece band, and it makes a racket of loose grooves and echoing guitars on The Family Sign. Slug remains an underrated storyteller, delivering a haunting tale of a camper eaten by wolves on "Became," and cautioning an abused woman on "The Last to Say." Sometimes he undermines himself with corny hooks, though, adding "Bad Bad Daddy" to a decent lyric about an alcoholic father.
If you've ever listened to an E-40 album, then you know the program. Revenue Retrievin' (Day Shift) packs 19 tracks, adding up to an hour and a half of hyphy and mob music cuts. 40 Water kicks the party off right with "Back in Business," a crash course in his signature mind-melting linguistics. "I Get Down" with cousin and the Click member B-Legit and "Everyday Is a Weekend" rock just as hard, but you may want to click through repetitive duds like "F*ck You Right" and "Dem Boyz."
"I'm trying to show a hero to youth," raps the Grouch on "Test of Time." The West Coast indie-rap vet has moved in a decidedly spiritual direction since his 1990s Living Legends salad days, and he and Zumbi of Zion I spend much of the unabashedly earnest Heroes in the Healing of a Nation preaching and prescribing solutions for "Victorious People." Amp Live adds inventive, if somewhat melancholy, beats, including an imaginative riff on Roy Ayers' "Searchin'" for "Be a Father to Your Child," while Freeway, Fashawn, Casual and Brother Ali contribute guest verses.
Perhaps taking a page from Jay-Z's eclectic Blueprint III, Snoop Dogg packs his Doggumentary with WTF moments, including a throwaway duet with Willie Nelson and a surprisingly effective collaboration with Gorillaz ("Sumthin Like This Night"). Seemingly contrary impulses, from Rolling 20s Crips shout-outs to a cautionary tale against "Peer Pressure" and a descent into Auto-Tune crooning ("Wet"), make this erratic album difficult to navigate. However, Doggumentary closes with two great additions to the Snoop catalog, "It's D Only Thang" and "Cold Game."
"How did I end up here with you?" asks Drake on "Show Me a Good Time." Thank Me Later answers the question, weaving between a melodic croon delivered over muted and balladic sounds and lyrical allusions to nascent superstardom. "I avoided the Coke game and went with Sprite instead," he raps on "The Resistance," acknowledging his marketability and clean-cut image. Predictably, famous well wishers like Jay-Z and Alicia Keys appear. But this is Drake's hour, and his introspective musings, deployed on standouts like "Fireworks," make this an engaging and occasionally spectacular debut.
My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy earns its title. Kanye combines deep melancholy and triumphant hubris into a stunningly intense experience, from the chiming handclaps of "Power" to the despair of "Blame Game." Brilliantly, Kanye couches these fantasies in a progressive hip-hop context, inviting Jay-Z, Kid Cudi, Rihanna, Nicki Minaj and others to participate in the madness. The high price of materialism serves as a running theme. "This pimp is at the top of Mount Olympus," he says on "Gorgeous." But when he aspires to "jumping out the window" on "Power," one wonders if it's all worth it.
Atlanta knucklehead Waka Flocka Flame has drawn an unusual amount of ire from the rap community. Yes, Waka has a psychotic-sounding name, and Flockaveli revels in ignorance, from the "drug selling music" on breakout club hit "O Let's Do It" to gang banger anthems like "G Check." But he's not the first or best to celebrate D-boy thug rap, nor will he be the last. At one point he claims "I put my pain on the mic," but only a few tracks rise above the hour-plus deluge of rants: "Hard in Da Paint" has an irresistible Darth Vader-sized beat, while "No Hands" benefits from an ornery verse from Wale.
Jay-Z closes out the Blueprint trilogy with an album that celebrates the only thing the emcee knows: wealth and success beyond his wildest imagination. "Empire State of Mind" is a NYC tourist brochure packaged in a pop song; elsewhere, Jiggaman jocks Ponce de Leon for the middle-of-the-road "Young Forever." And while, thematically, the emcee stays in his comfort zone, musically, the album drifts into uncharted territory (at least for Jay) with its washed out synths and clanging guitars.
Though Atmosphere's later material would be more refined and technically accomplished -- both in terms of production and lyrics -- there's a certain lo-fi majesty that suits the songs' jaded romanticism. "The Woman With the Tattooed Hands" explores themes of loss and regret, while "If I Was Santa Claus" is a Christmas carol for depressed b-boyz.
"I don't need nobody," goes the chorus on "Nobody." Is DJ Quik spittin' pimp game, or simply lonely and bitter? He won't, or can't say, on Book of David, since his forte is funk-tastic beats, not revelatory verses, despite many erratic attempts at the latter. He's at his best when he leaves the rhymes to experts such as Bizzy Bone, Ice Cube and Bun B, while producing elastic rhythms for "Across the Map" and "Do Today." But don't compare him to Dr. Dre, he warns on "Poppin'": "Before I come through with the scope on the K."
Bay Area rap kingpin E-40 is on a tear -- this is his fourth hour-plus missive in one year (released alongside Overnight Shift to complement 2009's Day Shift/Night Shift double shot). His taffy-pulling, slang-heavy wordplay is a glorious constant; Graveyard offers grim recession-era tales of struggle ("Trapped" is a killer) with only the occasional attempt at a pop hit (see "Club on Lock" or the T-Pain assist "Serious") he neither needs nor possibly even wants. Everyone from Tech N9ne to Bun B to someone named Choose Up Cheese drops by, but 40's laser-focused hustler babble shines through.
For Rolling Papers, Wiz Khalifa repeats his successful formula from 2009's Deal Or No Deal. From Pittsburgh anthem and mega-hit "Black & Yellow" to "Cameras," he dreamily sings and raps about weed, women and cash, while beats from Stargate, Jim Jonsin and others fuel his theme of petit bourgeois luxury. Wiz is best at conjuring a world where, on "The Race," he's "Stuntin' like Jet Li/ Boathouses and Jet Skis." Complaining about his content-free rhymes may be beside the point, but all the flossing may leave you desperate for a dose of reality -- or better yet, some rolling papers.
Gucci Mane's mixtapes -- and even his "official" albums -- tend to be hit-or-miss, but even ardent Gucci fans may find The Return of Mr. Zone 6 rough going. Bumps in the road include two ill-advised forays into Auto-Tune ("My Year" and "Pretty B*tches") and 1017 Brick Squad understudies who can't match the leader's charisma or panache (save for Waka Flocka, who makes several appearances). "Mouth Full of Golds," "This Is What I Do" and "Hell Yeah" are among the better tracks.
If Deal or No Deal is to be believed, then Pittsburgh rapper Wiz Khalifa has a life that's strictly "Red Carpet (Like a Movie)." He brags and boasts with the charm of a car salesman, and his roving eye is always on the lookout for ladies who have "Chewy" skills. Deal or No Deal is lightweight stuff, but Wiz has an uncanny ear for melody that makes it sound effortlessly listenable. He hungers for "Moola and the Guap" and compares sex to a rap session on "Studio Lovin'," all over infectious club beats that sound positively ambient.
Pharoahe Monch may never be "The Hitman," to quote a track from his excellent album W.A.R. (We Are Renegades). But every album he makes is a major event among serious hip-hop fans because the Queens lyricist is a true master of ceremonies: He's a vocalist who can both growl meaningfully alongside a gospel choir, mimic Juvenile's cadences on "Let My People Go," pepper socio-political commentary on tracks such as "Calculated Amalgamation" and "Haile Selassie Karate," and hang with hard rock thugs like Styles P and Royce Da 5'9". If only Flo Rida fans knew what they were missing.
The Bay Area's loopiest, most prolific MC is far from subtle: Part of his Revenue Retrievin' series (joining Graveyard Shift alongside 2009's Day Shift and Night Shift, all hour-plus monstrosities), Overnight boasts tracks called "Gunz," "Drugs," "F*ck 'Em" and (yes!) "I Love My Momma." His pinched, nasal voice and rubbery flow abide; "Beastin'" is perhaps the most exemplary of the album's bass-heavy, bargain-bin-space-age beats. Around here "I probably sold your family member drugs" makes for a fine chorus; "Tired of Selling Yola" is convincing, but the other 19 songs suggest otherwise.
Ben "Plan B" Drew pulls a 90-degree turn from his days as a grimy rapper that was "Sick 2 Def." On his U.K. hit The Defamation of Strickland Banks, he reinvents himself, singing with a creamy high falsetto over '60s-styled soul for this concept piece about a man falsely accused of rape. And when he raps about being thrown in prison and awaiting trial on "Welcome to Hell" and "The Recluse," it's clear he's using this concept to talk about greater societal problems as well as his own plight. It's rare to hear a retro-soul album ambitious enough to seek not only love, but also salvation from these "Hard Times," and Strickland Banks addresses the modern condition brilliantly.
The Bay Area's loopiest, most prolific MC is far from subtle: Part of his Revenue Retrievin' series (joining Graveyard Shift alongside 2009's Day Shift and Night Shift, all hour-plus monstrosities), Overnight boasts tracks called "Gunz," "Drugs," "F*ck 'Em" and (yes!) "I Love My Momma." His pinched, nasal voice and rubbery flow abide; "Beastin'" is perhaps the most exemplary of the album's bass-heavy, bargain-bin-space-age beats. Around here "I probably sold your family member drugs" makes for a fine chorus; "Tired of Selling Yola" is convincing, but the other 19 songs suggest otherwise.
