History doesn’t have much affection for Tone-Loc, Rob Base, The Fresh Prince, Young MC and the other pop rappers of the ’80s, whose rhymes sound primitive by today’s standards. But while none of these rappers were masters of their craft, they nonetheless brought a lot of pep to the table, coasting on sheer ebullience as they rapped with wide, genuine smiles on their faces. If the staid commercial rappers of the decades to follow took such joy in their music, they seldom showed it.
Big Boi is an infinitely more skilled rapper than those ’80s hitmakershis rhymes wittier, his flow more versatile and his delivery more precisebut in his unbridled enthusiasm for the art of rapping, he’s a throwback to the flat-topped emcees of yesteryear. He shares their unabashed eagerness to entertain, and it’s in that spirit that he pushes most of his long-delayed solo debut Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty to almost whimsical extremes. “Shutterbugg” rumbles along behind a hiccuping, almost impossibly deep talkbox; “Daddy Fat Sax” is piled high with layers of blurting synths and scratches; “General Patton” booms with marching-band brass and militaristic choral chants, and “Shine Blockas” rides a soul sample so cheerful even the poker-faced Gucci Mane, grumbling an irresistible chorus, seems to be biting his tongue to disguise his glee.
A contractual complication resulting from Big Boi’s leap from Jive Records to Def Jam kept his OutKast counterpart Andre 3000 off Sir Lucious’ final tracklist (save for a production credit on a chaotic track featuring Yelawolf), but a parade of inspired guests add plenty of variety in his absence. OutKast’s in-house crooner Sleepy Brown returns for some unhurried, oddball R&B on “Turns Me On;” T.I. faces off against a slithery guitar riff on “Tangerine;” Janelle Monae charms her way through the synthesized torch song “Be Still,” and a commendably smooth Jamie Foxx tames a halting, percussive beat from Lil Jon on “Hustle Blood.” All these songs are weird in their own way, abstracting or exaggerating the ticks of commercial rap, but none push against the grain so much as to be off-putting. Sir Lucious is a first and foremost a party record, one designed to be played from start to finish, preferably on repeat.
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