If you took all the low-key loops from Tool's songs and strung them together, it might sound something like this D-side project from frontman Maynard James Keenan.
Thankfully, his mighty stream of consciousness relents for bursts of humor ("Bullets don't take bribes, stupid, they shoot shit") and airier guest MCs like Rob Sonic, Cage and the Mountain Goats' John Darnielle
Mind Control does justice to Bob Marley's legacy — and that's saying a lot.
Guitarist Ryan Lake can shred with the best, often navigating thick Sabbath-y soup but also noodling lengthy, bluesy solos worthy of the Allman Brothers or tapping out Eddie Van Halen-style excursions.
This is a wildly uneven showcase for artists on the label.
The surprise is that, after digging so deep, producers like Swizz Beatz and Sha Money XL discovered some genuine gems, on which 2Pac's electric voice and poetic lyrics still resonate.
His hot flow and ice-cold lyrics are better served in the club.
Lil' Wayne and Birdman make a strong, defiant statement with this joint project, armed with hard-hitting rhymes built around the themes of loyalty, family and redemption.
The Brooklyn freestyle champion's long simmering debut pops with wit and sharp elocution, backed by innovative beats.
Almost all of the tunes here (particularly “So Excited”) try to replicate Jackson’s early work, with diminishing returns.
It's full of surprising, creative moments that recall Nas and Kanye West.
The arrangements and instrumentation are so thoughtfully considered that it's hard to believe the liner notes' insistence that "no samples from OK Computer (or anywhere else) were used in the recording of this album."
Dilla was never one to give himself a shout-out on the work he did for A Tribe Called Quest and others, so it's welcome that his peers showed up on this dark, magnetic opus to lay down appropriate eulogies, as Black Thought of the Roots does on "Love Movin' ": "My man Dilla do it without even tryin'/The greatest hip-hop producer of all time."
Like most of us, Rhymefest is full of contradictions.
The Roots make it clear that they aren't about to change the enlightened formula that made them hip-hop's most unconventional success story.
With a smooth flow and a throaty voice reminiscent of the Pharcyde's Fat Lip, Psalm One is the rare woman to rap about her real life with a winning honesty.
The keyboard-stoked beat and Cab Calloway-inspired chorus lack the experimental zeal of more recent projects, but it's a joy to hear André rap again — just like the good old days.
Singer Maynard Keenan’s operatic vocals, alternately simmering and shrill, are more personal and less pretentious here than ever before.
The 17-year-old’s vibrant vocals lift tracks like ”That La La La” and ”Let Me,” but this bland dancehall/R&B debut is filled with chintzy production and maudlin arrangements that block out the Music of the Sun.
Roth’s latest attempt to weasel his way back into our lives reeks of such desperation that it’s hard to see it as anything else. Diamond is essentially a covers set, including three tracks by forgettable British blues rockers Savoy Brown.
The songs explode with creativity, fusing jazz riffs, tribal rhythms, hardcore bursts of noise, and addictive rock hooks into one of the most compelling discs of the year.
The beats–never a selling point for Acey’s albums–don’t have the verve to lift leaden lines.
While Mike shares OutKast’s rapid-fire poeticism and eclectic tastes, his boring beats and conventionality earn him only a B. We know he can do better.