Review: Lil Wayne's "Tha Carter III"
Swagger and Style Carry Weezy's "3 Peat" To Lofty Heights
Jun 22, 2009
One In A Milli
Rare is the performer who can make a couplet that rhymes “yeast infection” with “geese erection” sound like high art.
On Tha Carter III, Lil Wayne proves himself to be one of the rap world’s brightest, even with such absurdist lyrics. This, though, is exactly the point Wayne hopes to make; in his case it isn’t so much the substance as the swagger that truly matters. Following this logic, Weezy is free to splash words on an aural canvas in much the same manner Pollock would use paint.
Moments like the one above (a number of which are too explicit to print) pepper the album. Were any other rapper to invoke Beetlejuice in the manner Wayne does on “Mr. Carter” the effect would be laughable.
“Phone Home” utilizes both the immortal E.T. catchphrase for its chorus and a Blade Runner-style synth line in its verse to tell Wayne’s story of origin. “They don’t make ‘em like me no more/Matter fact, they never made ‘em like me before,” he raps, and it seems less like braggadocio than it does stated fact.
Is That Really Your Voice?
Vocoder warps and bends Wayne’s distinctive flow throughout, turning his signature rasp into a theatrically distorted warble. Like the Kate Bush of the rap world, Wayne’s histrionic vocals take center stage on every track.
On single “Lollipop,” Wayne uses this effect to its very utmost. Atop a slow grooving dance beat and lovely synth chord progression, he croons a sexed-up (at the very least) come-on.
Lil Wayne is smart enough to know, however, that in order to pull off such a lyrically over-the-top performance the beats that back the bombast need to be sufficiently rump-shaking, and on that level, too, he delivers.
“Got Money” employs traditional Dirty South buzz, clapping drum machine, and apocalyptic strings to tell its VIP room tale. The funky bump-and-rumble of “Dr. Carter” is achieved via jazzy drum set and an old movie theme sample.
Tha Doctor Is In
The state of hip hop today is pitiable. The lyrical subject matter, objectionable to some, seems more stale than anything else. How many songs does the world need about pimps and loose women? Not as many as exist.
Lil Wayne, however, injects his songs with original concepts and vocabulary and delivers them with enough swagger to make the weirdest of them seem genius. And when he turns his talents toward more serious fare, such as on Hurricane Katrina retrospective "Tie My Hands," we see he's got soul as well.
Near the end of 2006, Nas proclaimed hip-hop dead, but with Dr. Carter in the O.R. the prognosis looks much more hopeful.
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