Gift of Gab
Escape 2 Mars
Rating: 2.5/5.0
Label: Quannum Projects
Recently, Sasha Frere-Jones used the New Yorker podium to declare, officially, that rap was dead. Putting aside the immediate dubiousness of such a claim coming from a middle-aged white man already known for his dicey racially charged proclamations (as those familiar with the infamous "White Shade of Pale" piece can attest), it does spark a debate about the divide between what really does seem to be the decline of mainstream hip-hop, with two of its most iconic figures (Jay-Z and Nas) more or less making the same claim even as the underground appears to be as vital as ever. This year has already seen several masterful hip-hop releases coming from the trenches of the not-quite-mainstream, whether it's the futurism and invention apparent in Busdriver's return to form, Jheli Beam, or the epic call to arms from the Wu-Tang Clan that was Raekwon's Only Built 4 Cuban Linx II. What's clear is that mainstream hip-hop, that genre of stale digital beats and vocals Auto-Tuned to oblivion, has no one but itself to blame for its historically low sales. It's no wonder that so many of its most successful acts are either declaring the genre to be DOA or in the case of Kanye West and Lil' Wayne, exiling themselves from the widely held notion of what hip-hop is. So just why, exactly, is someone of Gift of Gab's caliber attempting to reach that aforementioned mainstream with Escape 2 Mars?
In Mars, Gift of Gab has made his most obvious grab for the mainstream market yet, albeit a mainstream that doesn't really exist anymore. Though it begins innocently enough with the sweet, lush "E2MTRO," a casually tossed off intro track that bears a passing resemblance to Blazing Arrow's title track, the album falls into dangerous territory as early as its second song, the identity-challenged "El Gifto Magnifico." Tellingly, "El Gifto Magnifico" is also the album's single; with its harshly compressed beat and dancehall-inflected opening vocal, it's as though Gift of Gab is pursuing radio audiences from 1998. Even with its worldly samples, which hint at some of Blackalicious' more outré moments, the track feels too calculated, too at odds with both Gift of Gab's past and the genre's future.
"Light Years" follows and it could be argued that it is precisely the type of song Frere-Jones has in mind when making his morbid predictions. The beat is exactly the type of digital sterility critics have been rallying against since a legion of producers failed to understand what part of Timbaland was so seductive to fans and reviewers alike. There's a lazy guitar sample that goes nowhere, and also, a vocal hook for the chorus that is almost tragic in its complete inability to be memorable or interesting. If "Light Years" is the type of hip-hop the masses are looking for, then perhaps Mr. Frere-Jones has reason to fret.
What makes that particular notion all the more troubling is that Gift of Gab is an emcee not just with a pedigree, but with serious skills, rightly elevated to mythic status because of his potency with lyrics and his hypnotically melodic flow. Those skills are still on display here, even if DNAE Beats/Headnodic's production seems to have prohibited Gift of Gab from being as passionate or fierce as usual, instead leaving him to navigate a slightly lethargic middle ground that may be years ahead of the competition but nowhere near his normal standards. Unsurprisingly, Gift of Gab fares best on tracks like "Dreamin'," with Brother Ali's and Del the Funky Homosapien's guest appearances at least invigorating him with a competitive streak despite the staid obviousness of its soul-inflected beat.
There are, fortunately, moments on Mars in which all is not lost. "In Las Vegas" sounds like what would have happened had Kanye West produced X-Clan. The poppy, well-mannered "Rhyme Travel" closes out the album on a somewhat optimistic note, hinting that greater things are on the horizon. But for every one of these, there are three moments like the dreadful "Electric Waterfalls," an ominous example of what would have happened had Busdriver followed the uneven Roadkill Overcoat to its logical electro-nonsense extreme, or "Richman, Poorman" and its Maroon 5-at-'80's-night overtones.
So yes, Frere-Jones and his doomsaying have a certain allure when all you're listening to is The Blueprint 3 and holding up the likes of Escape 2 Mars as your sole representation of the underground. But don't believe the hype. Gift of Gab may have forgotten what it means to be inspirational and vital even if no one's really listening but there are plenty of emcees ensuring that 2009 has no more right to the claim of hip-hop's apocalypse than 1989 did.
by Morgan Davis
