PJ Harvey (3 stars)
Uh Huh Her
Sometimes it sucks being good at what you do. People expect more. What would get others a promotion, a raise and a blow job only earns you a reprimand for not raising the bar for all humanity again this time. Case in point: PJ Harvey's seventh disc, Uh Huh Her—if Karen O. came up with this, it'd be impressive, but from as original a talent as Harvey, it leaves one lukewarm.
The disc starts strong, with the guitar fury of "Bigmouth" and "Shame"'s galloping rhythm track and wordplay, but a sinking feeling soon sets in. "Who the F--k?" is the kind of woman-scorned stomp-and-skronk that made Harvey's name, but its rawness seems calculated, a sensation that becomes stronger as the album continues: Each minor chord, feedback growl and broken-voiced squeal possesses a curiously smooth finish. And, while love and it's trash-and-beer-can-filled pitfalls have always been PJ Harvey's topics of choice, her knack for making songs about helplessness sound like the war cry of the 50-foot queenie sometimes rings more like a wallow in masochism.
There are exceptions: "Pocket Knife" crawls up the back of your neck like Kate Bush on a dandelion wine and Oxycontin bender. "The Slow Drug" builds menace by understated means. Still, much of Uh Huh Her is like being trapped in a stuffy, dimly lit room with an old friend who keeps repeating the same miserable story. By the time we get to "The Desperate Kingdom of Love," we're ready to move on to PJ Harvey's next tale.
Jadakiss (3 stars)
Kiss of Death
All of his career, Jadakiss has played bridesmaid to New York's leading rappers. In the early '90s, to the late Biggie Smalls; most recently, to Jay-Z and Nas.
Blessed with a husky voiced flow and sartorial wit, he's twice the talent of the B-level rhymers currently carrying the baton of New York rap, but with half the buzz and Benjamins. Them's the breaks when you undo your own hype with an uninspiring debut, Kiss the Game Goodbye, that reinforces the obvious skills and underscores the dubious subject matter and laziness, and follow it up with Kiss of Death, a more inspired offering that ultimately re-reinforces the obvious and dubious.
Not that Jadakiss doesn't show the maturation so many rappers seem immune to on cuts like "Still Feel Me" and "By Your Side," and "Why" shows he can think outside the platinum jewelry box. And it's not that he can't contour his gruff voice to match sacchariney topics and beats, a skill preserved from time served in the pop-rap prison of P.Diddy's Bad Boy label. Nor that he's lost his thug bravura. (What's a gangsta without choreographed gun shots?)
It's that in trying to be all things to all audiences, and diluting himself in the process, he'll likely never get invited to the altar of mainstream acceptance and the accompanying endorsement deals. More importantly, he'll never get the answer to his own question: "Why I say the hottest shit, but be selling the least."