Mike Jones (1.5 stars)
Who Is Mike Jones?
In its prime in the mid-'90s, Houston-based Rap-A-Lot Records was among hip-hop's most potent labels, arguably able to match any crew, emcee for emcee. Its rapper-in-chief, Scarface, had distinguished himself as the Michael Jordan of Texas lyricists, incorporating a manic depression-induced sense of melancholy with potent storytelling to win the respect of hip-hop heads.
Consider Mike Jones the anti-Scarface. That he's generated significant buzz—mainly because of the white-hot "Still Tippin" becoming a mainstay on BET—is more the result of Trumpian promotion than talent. Given some hot beats in the vein of the Lurch-esqe sound popularized by revered turntablist, the late DJ Screw, Jones delivers vapid rhymes about hoes, clothes and money, incessantly shouting his phone number (281-330-8004; busy the five times I dialed) and continually asking, "Who is Mike Jones?" Perhaps a better question: "Where was Mike Jones' thinking cap when he penned this album?"
You expect others to tackle subjects like the Iraq war, not Jones. "We got people in Iraq, why can't they come home? If you care about your future, please listen to the song," he says on "5 Years From Now." So there you have it, the key to ending the war on terrorism is to replace Condoleezza Rice with Mike Jones. Not.
Bruce Springsteen (4 stars)
Devils & Dust
Is it essential? Probably not. But it tries and comes close. Devils & Dust, Springsteen's 13th studio effort, is one of those occasions when he gave the E Street Band the album off and recorded something more intimate, idiosyncratic. It's not as severe and gothic as Nebraska, but it's easier to listen to and you'll play it longer than some other Springsteen discs.
It's difficult to think of him as The Boss for long stretches of Devils & Dust. No chants of "Bruuuuuuce" will greet the sad, explicit sex of "Reno," in which not even a hooker can get the narrator's mind off of Maria. The title song is a soldier's meditation on faith and killing in Iraq. You can harrumph at a rich rock star presuming to know what a grunt is going through, but come on—that sort of imaginative projection is what artists do. Springsteen has always sung about fractured dreams, compromised hope and grudging redemption, and the courage to either escape from an imperfect life or make the best of it. The Rising was a great album, but its tent-revival urgency has waned as 9/11 daily recedes. Devils & Dust is just as immediate, but about broader human themes, which will give it a longer, quieter staying power.