A.D.
Train of Thought
***
“Grab your maxi-pad and get ready for the flow.” The line is a harbinger of things to come on Train of Thought, a mostly solid CD from North Las Vegas representer A.D.
Lyrical flow is a strong suit. A.D. mixes Lupe Fiasco, street reporter, backpack B-boy and West Coast rider. He rhymes believably about stopping gang violence in neighborhoods and viscerally about growing up “where there’s sets, not blocks ... where your ride ain’t shit without CDs by ’Pac.”
Logical flow is the main problem. At 24 songs, it’s a laborious listen, the power of his snarky metaphors sapped by his verbosity. Some of the East Coast beats don’t mince well with his cadence, and his voice is too often subservient to the track. A few tweaks here and there, though, and A.D. will be prepped to do real damage.
Musab
The Slicks Box
****
The former Minneapolis thug/pimp decries comparisons to Talib Kweli. Smart move. The Brooklyn rapper exudes positivity, but Musab, a responsible father of three and practicing Muslim, is only a part-time optimist, unable to fully shake the environment that made him.
It’s when he reminisces about his old self that The Slicks Box—as witty, topical and trenchant as any local album in years—hiccups.
Luckily, he doesn’t skimp on what he does best—unrepentant braggadocio (“African-American, laughing at Libertarians/Action affirmative, smacking all conservatives/Known for my machismo, won’t dance to disco/Taking me off the gizmo, your chance is dismal”) and Kweli-esque cultural insight (“Seems like everyone against using their brain/And somewhere down the line, they forget to entertain/I’m ashamed and every single one of us is to blame/And now we got the latest thing, emo rap/Which in other words is simply white-people rap”).
Spoatymac Presents
Rapid Fire:
A Heat City Compilation
***1/2
Compilations are the musical equivalent of buffets: lots of good stuff conveniently smorgasborded into one place at one time. In which case Rapid Fire is the equivalent of Bellagio’s gourmet pig-out palace, offering something for everyone.
For roughnecks: “The Ave Is Com’n” is a lyrical warning shot to poseurs.
For gangsters: Westside Kinfolk rep for Gerson Park on “The Take Over.”
For long-time locals: A regional pride ode in the vein of BDP’s “South Bronx,” “Whatcha Know” shouts out the 702’s roughest neighborhoods.
For those who like hip-hop spliced with fun, “Go Pinky” (by Twix of Big Dogg Klan) hilariously inhabits the foul-mouthed, jheri-curled, pink-and-black-suited music-store owner of the same name in the Next Friday movie.
Old Vegas hip-hop heads should appreciate contributions from Doomsday Productions (“F--kin with the Most”)—still thuggish-ruggish into their second decade together—and pioneer Stacy G, who outshines his more esteemed cohort, Pomona rapper Suga Free, on the pimpish “Ya Know.”
Desert Dwellas bring the underground heat (“Pressure”), and the talented, ?uestlove-approved Chapter Crew hold it down for the new school (“Life in the City”). Latin thug Johnny Boy, Samoan spitter Sinsiu and 420’s Daz Dillinger-blessed “Bullshit” round out this variety-packed CD.