I suppose it’s somewhat fitting in this mostly underwhelming year of hip hop that we head towards the finish line with what may very well be the most disappointing disc yet (yes, even more than Common-collaborator Kanye West’s 808s & Heartbreak). Not only is it a miserable effort for Common, but a bland one from executive producer Pharrell Williams as well. From the outside, it seemed a peculiar but potentially exciting match: the Neptunes’ forceful club-friendly beats and Common’s effortless impact and nimble lyricism. But Pharrell’s production is gawdy and frequently tuneless and Common’s rhymes are very uneven, occasionally even garishly embarrassing. The results are forced, awkward and occasionally unbearable.
Once a voice in criticizing hip hop’s uncomfortable misogyny and lawless immorality, Common also recently discussed the future of rap music in general with Obama poised to be sworn in as president. For someone who has always seemed more mature and imaginative than most of his peers, it’s truly discomforting to see him slide into the hedonistic party persona he presents on many tracks on Universal Mind Control. Towards the album’s end, he does a little soul-searching and social philosophizing, but even by themselves they’re little more than surface-deep reflections at best; pitted against the sporadically noxious dance music on the first side, they seem all the more weightless.
Some can make club anthems work, but it requires a certain amount of finesse and a careful control of the otherwise mindless, straight-from-the-zipper phrasing. Here, though, Common seems only half-interested, like the guy at the bar who’s been shot down a half-dozen times and is mopily scouring the scraps for a little company. Instead of breaking down the door and letting his swaggering mojo do the work, he relies on clichés and half-hearting grunting. This stuff is about as erotically-charged as discovering your mom’s negligee in the laundry.
Even if the Neptunes only produced seven of the ten tracks (the other three go to OutKast’s Mr. DJ), nothing in the first half distinguishes itself from the most sluggish of pulsating keyboard beats. At least Q-Tip (responsible for one of the year’s few truly good genre selections) had the mind to mix things up. But perhaps we should be grateful that the grime-spiked outer space beats overwhelm Common’s voice. He’s rarely urgent, even more rarely smooth and his words usually grasp for the obvious but land on the desperate. Being blunt and being witty rarely go hand in hand, and on this record, Common hides nothing inside of metaphors.
Beginning with the title track, Common spits words that would sound awkward coming out of mouths of even the least-inspired party rappers alive. Groans and giggles follow his, “I touch the masses like a Catholic,” but when he uncomfortably calls out, “Gucci, rock it/Coochies, pop it/Movie, watch it/Booties, drop it,” I felt like weeping. Kanye hops on board “Punch Drunk Love” but lets Common be the one to degrade himself. “My uh is in ya body/My uh is in ya mind/Check my dictionary/That ass is so defined.” Oh, and, “We exchange like students ‘cause I study abroad.” Or is it, “a broad?” Tough to tell, tougher to care.
Then there’s “Sex 4 Suga”; honestly, one of the worst songs I’ve heard all year. Along with grimace-worthy libido-boosting proclamations such as, “Your physique brings out my freak” and “I don’t mind being behind ‘cause I’m gonna touch you where the sun don’t shine,” the beats are over-processed and rhythmically tepid; there’s a hint of “Sexy Back” pillaging, too. To stress my point, consider the staggeringly infantile, “Let’s do the do, me and you/We can whoa-whoa-whoa and whoopee-woo.” It’s like one of those SNL digital short songs delivered without an ounce of cheekiness or irony—and a tin ear, to boot.
Without truly coming to life, the Neptunes/DJ sound comes around a bit on the second half, but Common struggles to catch up. Mr. DJ’s trip-hoppish “Everywhere” features Common in a supporting role to Martina Topley-Bird’s upper-octave chanting; when she’s on the mic, the otherwise low-slung production admirably turns towards the heavens. “Changes” is optimistic but pretty pokey, especially at the end when a little girl voice puts Common’s name on a list alongside Barack Obama, Martin Luther King Jr., Mohandas Gandhi, William Shakespeare and Tupac Shakur (it’s weird enough to see Shakur and Shakespeare together without adding the others), but at least the halo synths are appealing. And on the surprisingly decent “Gladiator,” amidst honking horns and crashing drums Common quotes Crowe and asks, “Are you not entertained?” For one of the first times ever with Common, I can’t say I am.
No matter what sounds his collaborators craft for him, the fault of this album lies almost squarely on the MC. If he felt compelled to add this new identity to his oeuvre (perhaps as evidence that he could accomplish anything), we can forgive him for his multitude of missteps. He’s no worse than most other Cristal-soaked “pimps,” but the fact that he’s really no better is shameful. Even his attempts to deepen the material don’t always land right. “Freestyle paid off so Lincoln paid me/Now we can push more whips than slavery”—even if we assume he means the car and not the man, that’s an uncomfortable pairing, wouldn’t you say? The only real lyrical reprieve comes in the form of “What a World,” an account of a youth wanting to grow up to be a successful rapper; not a great song on its own, but compared to most of these other cuts, it practically sounds miraculous.
This isn’t a career-killer by any stretch of the imagination, but it is a distracting detour. He’s reinvented himself before (remember 2002’s slightly stilted sex-and-soul Electric Circus?) and he’s committed no sin here that can’t be absolved. But the way he makes the “easy” booze-babes-and-debauchery montages sound so hard to pull off can’t possibly be a confidence booster. Maybe it’s an early mid-life crisis for the typically noble and intelligent MC. Time to sell this Corvette of a record, though; you’re not impressing anyone here.
"Universal Mind Control" is on sale December 9, 2008 from Geffen.
