When it was learned that OutKast’s follow-up LP to 2000’s Stankonia was going to be a double album split between the two personalities, interest tended to gravitate towards André 3000’s half over Big Boi’s, if for no better reason than the fact that André was recognized as the more experimental and creative of the duo, apparently dismissing the in-the-pocket MC skills and unexpected resonance of Big Boi’s persona. While waiting with baited breath for the next OutKast collabo, though, it’s become apparent that while the two still generate the most combustible energy in tandem, Antwan Patton is no second fiddle sidekick to André (Benjamin) the Conqueror. It could be argued that while both discs were hit-and-miss, Speakerboxxx actually overshadowed The Love Below—with fewer spaced-out slip-ups and more instant winners like “Ghetto Musick,” “Rooster,” “The Way You Move” and “Knowing,” it was certainly the less erratic.
Steeped as much in 70s gonzo soul-funk as the southern rap style he’d already mastered, Big Boi’s long-delayed solo effort, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty, is an urgent and impressionistic hip hop LP, containing all of the virtues and drawbacks that entails (plus a few astonishing and exhilarating virtues I wasn’t expecting). At just shy of an hour, Sir Lucious refuses to overstay its welcome, and thanks to the immediacy and force of the scrambled synth-funk beats, steel-edged rhythmic thuds, and hopscotch verses, it might have even survived another cut or two (but the brief skits, though mildly amusing, are irritating as typical of the genre). While I spot nothing on here that will give the OutKast classics a run for their money (and nothing nearly as universal), the fact that at least half of these tracks have single potential is another authentic positive; in fact, almost nothing here could be accused of the ol’ “filler” standby. Only the scattershot nature of the lyrics can be instantly labeled a detriment, mild as it may be—individual rhymes and verses work, but it’s difficult to grasp exactly what Big Boi was intending over the long haul. That he has more faces than Dr. Lao?
On “Shutterbug,” Big Boi may not dwell on the nihilism of vendetta gangsta posturing, but the silky qualities he normally exhibits beneath aggressive flow disintegrates in the face of, “I’m shitting on niggas and peeing on the seat/It’s that nigga that B-I-G B-O-I, O-U-T,” and, “Know to keep a bad bitch, no niggas beside me/And this finger on the trigger, case niggas is clowning.” His lascivious lingo on a track like “Turns Me On” is also a bit puzzling, especially when he describes how he gets turned on by a woman “with the peaches of an angel and the bottom of a horse, thoroughbred, thorough head, makes ya moist like the dark fudge brownie with the nut of your choice.” That he doesn’t linger on these personality types keeps the affair from becoming predictable (and oppressive), but he seems much more comfortable rattling off the whirlwind non-sequitors with bull’s-eye precision—“But everything's straight like 9:15/It's back to the time machine, I believe/Back to the rhyming, back to the stick/Back to the hi-hat, tsk tsk kick,” and, “Witness the nigga that spit that vicious/Pitbull attack shit when it comes to this rap shit.”
Produced primarily by Big Boi and Organized Noize (with assists from the likes of Mr. DJ, André, Salaam Remi, Lil Jon and others), electro-infused funk forms the primary basis for the album, but the disc is jittery and disheveled enough to keep from becoming stale. Webbed bass, spiked accordions, nervy keys, and numerous other additions keep “Daddy Fat Stax” spinning restlessly—it’s not one of the catchiest cuts, but it’s certainly one of the most unforgettable. André doesn’t do what one would expect with “You Ain’t No DJ,” instead finding a spacious but clanging style that would sound more at home with Young Jeezy or Clipse. The dense and melodic synth blazes of tunes like “Be Still” and “Follow Us” are well-sequenced musical digestifs. The exultant crunk style of “General Patton,” however, is too much fanfare, too little substance—it’s the closest we get to a loser in the group.
Many of the guest stars are sterling in their roles but not too showy to lose points on integration. Janelle Monáe adds to her breakthrough year with prime liquid undulations on the synth-and-drum driven “Be Still”—think Auto Tune filtered through a wave-simulation paperweight. “You Ain’t No DJ” finds Yelawolf’s precise but remarkably rapid delivery zigzagging around Patton’s. A robust and gritty appearance by Jamie Foxx on “Hustle Blood,” catchy choruses via Gucci Mane (“Shine Blockas”) and Vonnegut (“Follow Us”), and extra terrestial funk godfather George Clinton’s defining rasp opening and closing “Fo Yo Sorrows” are also on target. Hell, even T.I.’s contribution to “Tangerine” impresses. As for 3000, despite appearing alongside his OutKast compatriot on pre-release singles, he’s nowhere to be found on this record (likely a result of Big Boi’s messy fallout with Jive Records).
It’s debatable if Sir Lucious should be considered Big Boi’s solo debut or if that label belongs to Speakerboxx, but it’s tough to argue against the assertion that this effort is even greater evidence of Patton’s charisma, imagination, skill and ambition. He leaves you marble-mouthed if you try to follow along with a wagging tongue, and he brings the same unique spin to the laidback swagger style he already mastered in André’s opposition. Despite the expected speedbumps (in lesser quantity than all but the most optimistic fans likely expected/feared), if you play this enough, you might just forget how desperately you’re awaiting another OutKast album. Is there higher praise available for either of them?
"Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty" is on sale July 6, 2010 from Def Jam.
