In lieu of crowning the "official" summer jam of 2009, as most sites or blogs are known to do by mid-July, a whole bunch of random thoughts instead. And yes, it is because there is no real contender for jam of the summer, if only because Birthday Sex, Best I Ever Had, and Every Girl have all been out since Timbs & North Face weather.....and we're off:
How does an absolute no-talent like Ace Hood get a second album out already if we're all agreeing that his association with Khaled has nothing to do with it? I've sat down and given each of his albums an honest listen and the same thing happened each time, I was left with a collection of solid beats, occasionally great guest appearances (Jazmine Sullivan on "Champion", T-Pain on "Cash Flow"), and no real idea of who Ace Hood actually is. He can flow his ass off, for sure, but on closer inspection his lyrics have no real meaning. He's basically a homeless Southern man's version of Game, at this point, and we'll get to him in a minute.
With Forever King/War Angel mirroring the buzz for Return Of The Body Snatchers/Sabrina's Baby Boy, people seem to be very quick to proclaim the supposed greatness of Before I Self Destruct. Curtis only had a handful of moments where 50 even approached his past heights, and I fail to see how it will be different this go-round. I'd much rather hear Relapse 2 at this stage. I predict 50 rolling out yet another single for the ladies that fizzles around like a damp firecracker, followed by a ridiculous publicity stunt in the weeks leading up to BISD's release.
Memo to The Game: Jay-Z said he ain't talking about you, what about that could your mentally unstable ass possibly interpret as a diss? And then to swagger jack Max B for your C-grade diss? The Game has truly reached the point where nothing he does can shock me anymore.
Loso's Way was shockingly competent. Fabolous actually remembered to make songs men could enjoy. Pachanga & Lullaby are easily two of the better album tracks Mr. Jackson has ever managed to make. The irony is that this album will barely fare better in the marketplace than Maino's did. A shame, really, because Maino's album was a pleasant surprise and the same goes for Fab.
It is a crying shame about Max B. Granted, most of his 16s were indecipherable gibberish and his hooks were sung about as off-key as possible, but he brought a certain joie de vivre that New York rap has been missing since their evident refusal to listen to anyone who dropped their first album after Biggie died.
And on that note, I'm out 3 solid albums for your listening pleasure: Mos Def-The Ecstatic, Currensy-This Ain't No Mixtape, Twista-Category F5