MUSIC BOX |
Martin Stein
Brent Holmes |
Kanye West (4 stars)
The College Dropout
This explains why Kanye West is as arrogant as any rapper this side of KRS-One; it's hard to be humble when you're good. The College Dropout, the native Chicagoan's much-hyped debut, delivers in all facets, packing enough beats and lyrical heat to hold even the most discerning hip-hop ears enrapt.
Anything coming from West is expected to be musical. Of late, he's produced hits for big-name stars with Neptune-ish aplomb, but The College Dropout is a beatsmith's delight, musically the most solid rap album since DJ Quik's Rhythmalism. Not entirely surprising.
What is surprising: West's unbridled lyricism and coverage of subjects rarely broached in the sex-money-murder-bling-bling homogeneity that's become rap. West big-ups Jesus, rhyming on "Jesus Walks": "The way Kathie Lee needed Regis, that's the way I need Jesus;" wishes for a shuttle to rocket him away from his minimum-wage job at the Gap on "Spaceship;" and rips career college students in several zany skits. The chorus to "Workout Plan" reveals his inner jerk: "That's right, put in work, move your ass, go berserk, eat your salad, no dessert, get that man you deserve." In one line, West encapsulates the problem with hip-hop's hypercapitalized, yet politically impotent culture: "Ni--as can't make it to ballots to vote for leadership, but we can make it to the dealership." It says something that chart-topping singles "Slow Jamz" (about women) and "Through the Wire" (about getting into a car accident and having his mouth wired shut) are among the album's weaker offerings.
While West has a long way to go to reach the superego status of KRS-One and Canibus, with a few more excellent releases like this, he'll be a multiplatinum asshole in no time.
Damon Hodge
Drawing Boxes (3 stars)
Drawing Boxes
Drawing Boxes is full of veterans of the Vegas music scene, former members of seminal bands like Magna-Fi, Clockwise and Big Bad Zero, so it's no surprise that the band's self-titled debut is a slick, polished affair, with catchy tunes and a tight, mainstream sound. But at times, the record feels too generic, a fate that has befallen both Clockwise and Magna-Fi recently, as if the band is reaching too hard for a wide appeal.
But the sheer level of professionalism already puts Drawing Boxes head and shoulders above most local bands, and songs like "Sideways" and "Parts of Me," if not particularly original, are at least well-constructed and compulsively listenable. Power ballad "I'm Still Here" could easily become a radio hit, and the entire album is ready-made for a major-label pickup. With all their experience, Drawing Boxes have learned exactly how to make a safe, crowd-pleasing record; let's hope they'll be around long enough to try an experiment or two on their next one.
Josh Bell
Belle and Sebastian (3.5 stars)
Dear Catastrophe Waitress
"Stuart [Murdoch] starts humming, the rest of us start strumming or a-plinking or a-thumping or a-hollering and the next thing you know, we've got another song." Belle and Sebastian's guitarist, Stevie Jackson, recently wrote these words on his band's website, and they serve as a good description of their newest album.
From the opening notes of "Step Into My Office, Baby," the band's excitement is palpable, and more importantly, contagious through much of the album. After recent lackluster efforts, Murdoch and company have pulled together, and with the help of producer Trevor Horn, generated some of their most powerful music.
The Scottish band falters when its music slips into a rote form of navel gazing, but on the album's best moments, tunes like the Grateful Dead-copped "If She Wants Me" and "I'm a Cuckoo" (riding a groove borrowed from Thin Lizzy), leap out of the speakers, thematically evoking the sort of sun-tinged melancholy that sets in at the end of a beautiful day. Like the British invasion of 40 years ago, our Anglo-Saxon brothers from across the Atlantic are producing superb renditions of American music, and like their predecessors, are often better at it than their stateside counterparts.
Jayson Whitehead