| Where The Love Below finds Andre
3000 going it primarily alone, following his Prince/George Clinton/Beatlesesque-psychedelic
love-jones to its logically illogical conclusion, Speakerboxxx
finds Big Boi, the more earthbound of the OutKast braintrust,
sticking with tried-and-true hip-hop formula: The all-star cast of
rappers overwhelming whatever deficiencies one single rapper might
possess. Big Boi certainly doesn't lack the skills or confidence to
go it solo, but one can't overlook the talented heavyweights
bolstering his rapid, rough-hewn rhymes. From household names Jay-Z
and Ludacris to up-and-coming rhyme-slingers Killer Mike and Mello,
Speakerboxxx overflows with a wildly diverse cast of vocal
stylists (and sharp, imaginatively inventive beats).
When this smorgasbord of flavors works (and it certainly hits
more often than it misses), Speakerboxxx is as exciting and
expressive as any album released this year. The hyperactive, wildly
schizophrenic "GhettoMusick" sets the tone early, from the volatile
torrent of Big Boi's machine-gun delivery to the tension-balancing
sample of Patti LaBelle's "Love, Need & Want You." It's to
Speakerboxxx what "Gasoline Dreams" was to Stankonia -- a
potent, infectiously hook-laden opening shot. Equally impressive is
the Gangsta Mack tribute "Bowtie," utilizing an appropriately
big-noise brass section and Sleepy Brown's smooth flow. "War" allows
Big Boi to get off his dance floor platforms and onto a soapbox as
he criticizes everything from the post-9/11 loss of freedoms to the
contested 2000 Presidential election. In the midst of so many songs
about getting one's groove on and the importance of looking good in
the 'hood, Big Boi promises to "always bring food for thought to the
table." And instead of coming off as preachy or self-important, his
stab at politically charged commentary blends into the overall mix
refreshingly well.
Speakerboxxx flounders when it overplays the trite macho
posturing angle ("Tomb of the Boom") or indulges in pointless
nepotism ("Bamboo (Interlude)" -- wherein Big Boi's young son gets
his shot at hamming it up for the mic). But the overall freshness
and consistency of the heavy bass and horn-backed sound ties the
nineteen selections together nicely, and at just under an hour, it
never feels top heavy or padded with filler, as so many rap albums
regrettably do.
Big Boi cranks his Speakerboxxx up in the same East Point
neighborhoods that inspired back-to-back masterpieces Aquemini
and Stankonia. And while it may lack the unpredictable P-funk
edge Andre 3000 brought to the table on those efforts, in keeping it
real and paying its debt to hip hop culture, Speakerboxxx
stacks up as a worthy addition to the impressive OutKast catalogue. |
|
There's a school of thought that attributes the
success of the Beatles solely to the contributions of John Lennon.
Paul McCartney, adherents of this school insist, was the sappy,
"boring" (read: traditional) Beatle; only Lennon's more flamboyant
and gritty edges, they say, saved the duo's collaborations from
well-executed mediocrity. It's instructive to bear this argument in
mind when digesting The Love Below, unquestionably the more
aggressive and adventurous half of OutKast's double-solo-album
tandem. Because like much of Lennon's solo work, The Love Below
finds Andre in sore need of an editor to exert some discipline over
his rampant, attention-starved Id, and makes a strong case for just
why the revered Atlanta pair is much stronger than the sum of its
individual parts.
It's tempting to compare Andre's work here (as many critics have
done) to Prince, whose yin-yang duality of sexual aggression and
emotional yearning is indeed strongly echoed here. Prince, however,
built a legacy not just on cult of personality but on songwriting,
a skill set in which Andre proves sorely lacking. The Love Below's
liquid, freeform vibe takes its structural cues from past OutKast
records, where the loose grooves that permeate hip-hop held more
sway. But the rambling sprawl of "Happy Valentine's Day,"
"Prototype" and "Behold a Lady" suggest a performer perhaps a bit
too caught up in his creative urges, unable or unwilling to apply
the elbow grease to expand the tracks beyond repetitive showcases
for his inventive freakout aesthetic. The 1% inspiration is
definitely present: the 99% perspiration... well, that's not so
evident.
Not that there aren't moments where Andre's hyperactive muse
scores big. Lead-off single "Hey Ya!" is a tight, insistent blast of
summertime radio frolic; the lounge-ballad pastiche "Take Off Your
Cool" (a debut with Norah Jones) is an effective exercise in genre
immersion; and a spirited instrumental version of "My Favorite
Things" is an impressive burst of jazzy proficiency. "She's Alive,"
meanwhile, starts off strong, but its stab at relevant lyricism
(addressing the toils of single motherhood) loses steam about
halfway through. It's as if being serious proves so taxing for Andre
that he can't harness his talent for freshness to breathe life into
the song.
At least, it's certainly clear that being less than focused,
musically and lyrically, comes easier to Andre here. From belabored
skits like "Where Are My Panties" and "God (Interlude)" to the inane
"She Lives in My Lap," the eye-rolling "Spread" and the faintly
intriguing "Dracula's Wedding" (which uses vampirism as a clunky
metaphor for male fear of commitment), it's clear that Andre
(apparently feeling his oats after a split from Erykah Badu)
confuses sexual candor (and immaturity) with insight. (Let us
quickly forget the regrettable "poo-poo" references of the
utterly-without-merit "Roses.")
While these moments might prove fascinating to Andre's analyst,
for the rest of us, they show an artist still struggling with the
confines of his art. The Love Below doesn't break or ignore
genre rules so much as it loses interest in them, enthralled as it
is with its own "daring" in laying bare Andre's inner sexual pathos.
Unfortunately, Attention Deficit Disorder just isn't a workable
substitute for craft, nor is a preoccupation with sex (and the scary
concept of commitment) quite the same as art. Who knew that Big Boi,
the rapper with a stripper's pole in his den, would prove OutKast's
stabilizing influence? |
