4.0 out of 5
Allido / Interscope
Allido / Interscope
Hip-hop in 2009 has been very much like politics in 2009: If it started with great promise, it has been mostly short on tangible results. The genre's last living mass market mavens announced that a New School was in session, and ever since, we've all been hanging around the hallways waiting for the current class to earn its letters. Alas, such voyeurism has been less than satisfying. The rapper who started his career starring in an actual high school drama stole the show, leaving the rest of the gang upstaged by a free mixtape he originally dropped in a blog post. One-time buzz magnet Asher Roth showed up about as much as Ferris Bueller; Kid Cudi's space-themed party was more misfire than revelation; and Charles Hamilton got so high on his own supply that he crashed and burned before his record even had a chance to drop. Good thing, then, that Wale has always been the savvy one. Because Attention Deficit, his long-anticipated fourth quarter debut, turns out to be one of the best hip-hop releases of the year.
Those who have been paying attention have learned a lot about Wale's brand of hip-hop over the past couple years. We've gotten to know the D.C.-repping Nigerian-American on mostly home-run mixtapes like 100 Miles and Running, The Mixtape About Nothing and Back to the Feature. All the hallmarks of those releases: the gogo samples, the slick, percussive bounce, the empathic mile-in-your-shoes narratives - show up on his first album in well refined and magnified style. You'd almost think he'd studied a manual for How to Make it as a Rapper in the Internet Age: a) Tease your audience; b) Build your name and resources; c) Keep your head low; d) DELIVER.
And his diligence pays off. From the opening blare of the horn-propelled, Dave Sitek produced "Triumph," the mind set of Attention Deficit's author seems to be more or less the opposite of the one telegraphed in the album's title: In control. The opener segues into the surefire rags-to-riches anthem "Mama Told Me," which is followed by a Bun B featuring Mark Ronson joint and the up-all-night pleasures of "Pretty Girls." By the time you reach the Tribe Called Quest shoutout on "World Tour," Wale's influences, personal profile and career trajectory have already been checked and re-checked to satisfaction, like items on a long-held to-do list.
Still, Attention Deficit manages to be both imperfect and refreshing. The first and most egregious misstep arrives in the grating and ill-fated Pharell collab for the ladies, "Let it Loose." Another hits right after with the saccharine, material-girl-in-distress mush of "90210." But the album rekindles its soul-infused glory beginning with "Shades," where Wale points his conscious rapper rhymes toward the niche, but personal subject of the color complex to the tune of a killer cameo from Chrisette Michelle.
More guest appearances shine on the unimaginatively titled, second TV On The Radio-assisted track "TV in the Radio" and the new Roc Nation anthem "Beautiful Bliss," where K'naan and J. Cole respectively demolish their podiums like polemical politicians. "I've been on more red carpets than Ryan Seacrest," K'naan boasts. "Fat rhymes every time, bitch, Roseanne Bars," Wale retorts. "Diary" fares better than its predecessors in the girls department, floating on a hypnotic beat and featuring more focused lyricism that spills into spoken word. And from "Mama Told Me" to the jazz flute inflected closer "Prescription," in-house wunderkind Best Kept Secret is rewarded for producing all those free mixtapes; here he plays the Just Blaze to Wale's Jay and sets the tone for the album more than any of its many contributors.
A lot has been made of the "post-Kanye" generation of rappers, but consider for a moment what it must have been like to forge your entire career in the wake of Nas's callow, genre-dividing 2006 opus. "Hip-hop's dead, that's what Nas said to me," rhymes Wale early on in the record. And in that line is the angst and pressure of his promise, the outline of his mission. Attention Deficit is indeed a triumph, embracing the lineage of hip-hop's forbears while bearing the flag, the youthful confidence and eclecticism of the new generation. It's an arrival we can all celebrate.
- Reggie Ugwu
Those who have been paying attention have learned a lot about Wale's brand of hip-hop over the past couple years. We've gotten to know the D.C.-repping Nigerian-American on mostly home-run mixtapes like 100 Miles and Running, The Mixtape About Nothing and Back to the Feature. All the hallmarks of those releases: the gogo samples, the slick, percussive bounce, the empathic mile-in-your-shoes narratives - show up on his first album in well refined and magnified style. You'd almost think he'd studied a manual for How to Make it as a Rapper in the Internet Age: a) Tease your audience; b) Build your name and resources; c) Keep your head low; d) DELIVER.
And his diligence pays off. From the opening blare of the horn-propelled, Dave Sitek produced "Triumph," the mind set of Attention Deficit's author seems to be more or less the opposite of the one telegraphed in the album's title: In control. The opener segues into the surefire rags-to-riches anthem "Mama Told Me," which is followed by a Bun B featuring Mark Ronson joint and the up-all-night pleasures of "Pretty Girls." By the time you reach the Tribe Called Quest shoutout on "World Tour," Wale's influences, personal profile and career trajectory have already been checked and re-checked to satisfaction, like items on a long-held to-do list.
Still, Attention Deficit manages to be both imperfect and refreshing. The first and most egregious misstep arrives in the grating and ill-fated Pharell collab for the ladies, "Let it Loose." Another hits right after with the saccharine, material-girl-in-distress mush of "90210." But the album rekindles its soul-infused glory beginning with "Shades," where Wale points his conscious rapper rhymes toward the niche, but personal subject of the color complex to the tune of a killer cameo from Chrisette Michelle.
More guest appearances shine on the unimaginatively titled, second TV On The Radio-assisted track "TV in the Radio" and the new Roc Nation anthem "Beautiful Bliss," where K'naan and J. Cole respectively demolish their podiums like polemical politicians. "I've been on more red carpets than Ryan Seacrest," K'naan boasts. "Fat rhymes every time, bitch, Roseanne Bars," Wale retorts. "Diary" fares better than its predecessors in the girls department, floating on a hypnotic beat and featuring more focused lyricism that spills into spoken word. And from "Mama Told Me" to the jazz flute inflected closer "Prescription," in-house wunderkind Best Kept Secret is rewarded for producing all those free mixtapes; here he plays the Just Blaze to Wale's Jay and sets the tone for the album more than any of its many contributors.
A lot has been made of the "post-Kanye" generation of rappers, but consider for a moment what it must have been like to forge your entire career in the wake of Nas's callow, genre-dividing 2006 opus. "Hip-hop's dead, that's what Nas said to me," rhymes Wale early on in the record. And in that line is the angst and pressure of his promise, the outline of his mission. Attention Deficit is indeed a triumph, embracing the lineage of hip-hop's forbears while bearing the flag, the youthful confidence and eclecticism of the new generation. It's an arrival we can all celebrate.
- Reggie Ugwu
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