SOUNDCHECK

Nas, Eminem, Daughtry, Taylor Hicks, The Evens


Nas


Hip Hop Is Dead (4 stars)

If, as the title suggests, Hip Hop is Dead, and Nas' latest not-quite-Illmatic-but-still-plenty-good CD is the sound of a flatlined musical genre, then kicking the bucket ain't such a bad thing. In fact, had hip-hop died a long time ago, Nas might be venerated as hip-hop's CEO—and not Jay-Z, his boss at Def Jam.

What's refreshing about Hip Hop Is Dead is that Nas is a reincarnated rapper—he's always been a virtuoso emcee with Sunni Islamic leanings; a been-there-done-that moralist who wants better for his people. But he's a reinvented man—married to singer Kelis, content that, though he's from the 'hood, he never has to go back. He's disassociated himself from the flashy-dash monikers that transformed him from character to caricature; gone are Nasty Nas, Esco, Escobar or Nastradamus, replaced by the mature Nasir Jones.

Taking dead aim at mediocre emcees and money-over-culture hustlers, Nas creates an album that's equal parts history lesson (shout-outs to hip-hop vets on "Where Are They Now"), Sunday morning sermon (the uplifting "Let There Be Light"), warning shot ("You Can't Kill Me") and Dr. Phil session (the inspirational "Hope," on which he raps a capella).

Doomed by lackluster beats on follow-ups to 1994's legendary Illmatic, Nas is given more to work with. He murders tracks by Kanye West ("Still Dreaming") and Black Eyed Peas front man Will.i.am. ("Who Killed It?"). And his collabo with Snoop Dogg, "Play on Playa," actually sounds better than the long-awaited duet with nemesis-turned-boss Jay-Z on "Black Republican."

As any preacher worth his seminary degree will tell you, all have sinned and fallen short. Nas doesn't spare himself from complicity in hip-hop's murder; he was once absorbed in the lifestyle of block-hustlin', bitches and bling. Now that he's been reborn, re-baptized in the spirit of an art form born in New York and raised in the streets of Ghetto USA, he's out to resurrect hip-hop. Let's hope he's not too late.



Damon Hodge



Eminem


Eminem presents the re-up (2 1/2 stars)

Let me establish this before anything else:

It's my conviction that Eminem is not just the greatest talent mainstream rap has produced since 1994, that magical year in hip-hop, but also one of the stellar artists, regardless of genre, of this era. And my belief is only deepened with the very first verse of the very first song on this new compilation album featuring Slim Shady's friends and protégés, whose solid but unextraordinary styles in juxtaposition to their leader's masterful lyrics highlights my point.

The theme is constant throughout the collaborative record: Even when Eminem raps alongside popular 50 Cent in tracks like "The Re-Up" and "You Don't Know" (or with potential-packed Obie Trice in "We're Back") the drop-off between Eminem's talent and that of even the best of his protégés is so blatant that you wish the entire album were composed of Eminem's solo efforts, such as "Public Enemy #1," a song that gives me confidence when I say Eminem is the best today.

And when Eminem refrains himself from songs, allowing his friends D-12, Stat Quo, Bobby Creekwater and Cashis time and space to shine, the flow of the album loses that vital momentum which makes any record magical.



Joshua Longobardy


DAUGHTRY


DAUGHTRY (2 1/2 stars)

Having never seen an episode of American Idol until a former roommate encouraged, "Dude, there's a guy this season you'd really like. He's bald!" and avoiding all post-show efforts from the likes of Clay Aiken and Carrie Underwood, I don't have much to offer in the way of comparison to other Idols. The singular appeal of Chris D., or "Daughtry" as he's going by nowadays, wasn't his proclivity for breathing life into tired aggro-rock anthems, but his attitude: He was talented, he was well aware of it, and he knew which (limited) genres he both enjoyed and excelled in. He did exactly what he wanted, judges' advice be damned; in terms of rock 'n' roll sensibility alone, the guy should have won.

Daughtry's major-label debut, however, feels exactly like what it is: the speedily assembled output of a popular contestant backed by session musicians. There's more variety than expected—bombastic arena-rockers "Used To" and "Over You," mid-tempo power ballads "Home" and "Feels Like Tonight," guitar-heavy thrasher "What I Want" (featuring Slash!) and Metallica-light "There and Back Again"—but there's also plenty of empty emotion and blatantly radio-friendly riffs. It's no surprise, really, though fans may have hoped for more from the guy who ostensibly never even needed Idol's help in the first place.

The would-be Fuel vocalist makes a conscious statement by opening the album with the declarative "It's Not Over." His career is strong, no doubt, but the real test will come with the release of his second album. Once Daughtry assembles an actual band and flexes his songwriting muscles, hopefully all that raw talent of his will grow refined.



Julie Seabaugh


Taylor Hicks


Taylor Hicks (1 star)

When greyboy Hicks, a soul belter with a deep baritone in the Michael Bolton tradition, won his surprising American Idol victory last spring, there was a lot of yapping in the press about how it signalled a victory for "real" singing over the plastic fakery critics assume is Idol's bread and butter. Yet it is precisely Hicks' emphasis on his own authentic soulfulness that is most cringe-inducing. Said soulfulness is usually just implied in his voice and in the song's deadeningly precise and disturbingly reverential arrangements (no on-cue horn blast is left unblasted, no "tasty" guitar lick left untasted), but it even creeps into the subject matter. On the album's signature track, "Gonna Move," for instance, we learn that Hicks was raised in a "quiet country house" and that books meant nothing to the future leader of the Soul Patrol. I think at that point we're all supposed to stand up and applaud.

There are a few okay moments here. "Just to Feel That Way" has some nice orchestral drama in the middle, and the beat that propels "The Runaround" is massive-sounding. Still, any goodwill brought forth is dissolved the second Hicks unleashes one of his trademark soul-man growls—sort of Otis Redding via Tony the Tiger. It's enough to set your teeth on edge.

Bottom line? Five seconds of Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone" tears this entire CD to shreds.



Scott Woods



THE EVENS


GET EVENS (3 stars)

"Is this my world I no longer recognize?" Ian MacKaye asks at the start of leadoff track "Cut From the Cloth," and fans of the iconic punk-rocker might ask the same of their hardcore-defining, Straight Edge-siring, capitalism-challenging hero upon first listen to the second disc from The Evens—MacKaye's folky baritone-guitar-and-drums duo with ex-Warmer Amy Farina.

While Get Evens might lack the overt fury of Minor Threat or the measurable muscle of Fugazi, don't let the pleasant vocal harmonies or absence of roaring solos confuse you. MacKaye's latest effort has sharp teeth aplenty; it just takes longer to perceive them clamping down on your neck. The lyrical content isn't all that difficult to decipher—"You fabricated your way in here/And everybody knows you are a liar," the D.C.-based pair lobs at any hometown politician who might be listening—but sung in hushed tones amid balmy instrumentation, even hyper-charged words tend to waft toward the rafters.

Two albums in, the band's semi-poppy protest songs could benefit from sharper hooks, as melodies too often lag behind lyrics. Still, while most MacKaye loyalists keep a vigil for a Fugazi revival, The Evens feel like a worthwhile next chapter for a maturing dissident who has muted his music but not his irrepressible voice.



Spencer Patterson


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