Straight off the streets of Compton, the rap world would like you to sit up and pay attention to The Game, the next flashy product from the tutelage of super producer Dr. Dre and his other thugged-out journeyman, 50 Cent.
And “The Documentary” has Compton written all over it – seriously, there’s a massive geographic reminder plastered on the backside of the case.
But The Game is trying to go universal, reminding the listener he “got niggas in Westside Compton and Southside Queens” and boasting some impressive guest appearances from names all over the hip-hop spectrum.
And yet under the polished production and over-the-top hype, something seems wrong with this album. Perhaps it’s the conflicting messages or just the blatant commercialism, but The Game doesn’t come across as much of a genuine talent as he does a bankable image – trained and conditioned to sell records and drop some beats that beg to be blasted at the Boot.
Aside from Dre and 50 Cent as executive producers, the production credits are a laundry list of who’s who: Mary J. Blige, Kayne West, Busta Rhymes and the Great White Hype himself Marshall Mathers, to name a few. It’s an attempt to bring East Coast to West Coast and be something to everyone in between. Even this is misleading because the album is still all about the Westside.
The Game keeps an N.W.A. tattoo on his chest and the likeness of Eazy-E on his arm, so you know where his allegiance is first and foremost.
As far as skills go, The Game is passable. His lyrics could use some work, and it’s possible that the album could get old real quickly if it wasn’t for the constant stream of guest spots keeping things fresh.
In all fairness, though, he does have some good songs.
“How We Do” is already a mainstream hit, but the real bling-bling of the album is the retro sampling “Church for Thugs” and the rowdy and tongue twisting “No More Fun and Games.”
Dre’s Midas Touch isn’t luck; he’s an entrepreneur first and foremost. Not to degrade his talent – because he is the best producer out there – but Dre creates a product.
The Game hits the nail on the head himself when he muses, “How could I not sell a million when I’m rappin’ on Dre hits?”
However, the message of the album is confusing. The Game’s press release includes the response “I’m not telling nobody to sell drugs or pick up guns,” yet the whole album is a tribute to drugs and guns and a return to the glory days of N.W.A.’s Compton, or as he puts it, a “gangsta wake-up call.”
In “Westside Story,” The Game boasts, “If you take a look in my eyes/you see I’ll be a gangsta ’til I die.”
And who knows what to make of the liner photo featuring The Game sitting at a kitchen table littered with weed and assault weapons. It’s tough to buy the peace and love sentiment when it’s balanced by equal parts gats and gangbanging.
So, don’t jump on the bandwagon just yet, and let’s see if some genuine talent pans out. He’ll have plenty of opportunities to prove himself, as he promises in the rhyme “Go head envy me/ I’m rap’s MVP/ And I ain’t goin’ nowhere so you can get to know me.” Knowing Dre’s got his back, this is no idle threat.
Patrick McDermott can be reached at [email protected].
