The Game’s ego is his biggest downfall. Sure, he’s got the cash to enlist a top-shelf dream team of producers– Kanye West, DJ Hi-Tek and Scott Storch among them; He’s always been beat-focused, so a hefty range of big beats is mando. But this time all the cameos and producers in the world won’t save a weak rhyme. LAX simply serves as further evidence that Mr. Jayceon Taylor can’t carry a record on his own. The guy simply refuses to evolve beyond lyrical self-fellation and delusions of thug grandeur. 

Don’t get me wrong- LAX has its moments in the sun. How could it not? I can’t remember a more star-studded hip-hop album. Kanye turns a production page in his portfolio with Angel, stepping outside the glow-in-the-dark theatrics and laying the groundwork for one of the best tracks on the album, while Raekwon puts things back in motion with one of his best verses in years on Bulletproof Diaries. The Game actually holds his own on this one, too. Best album track? Well, it aint an embarrassment- that’s a start, right?

But let’s step back to track one, when it’s clear that we’re in trouble right out of the gate. The first voice we hear on LAX isn’t Jayceon Taylor’s, but rather the man who redefined self-destruction, the year’s most felonious celebrity, Earl Simmons aka DMX. In between carjackings and police impersonations, X found the time to rebuke Satan in the name of Jesus in an increasingly maniacal voice that ends up a scream. That’s one hell of a way to open a record.

LAX Files is a play-by-play of Taylor’s past leading up to now, as he paints a picture of his tough upbringing: Come to my ‘hood-‘hood / look at my block-block / that’s that project building, yeah that’s where I got shot-shot / cause I was more ‘hood than Suge / and had more rocks than Jay / more scars on my face than the original Scarface / or the homeboy Scarface. Cue shuddering and awe. And load of bullshit. What you’ve got on your face is a stupid butterfly, covered with an LA sign, covered with a big gay star like he’s trying out for Jem and the fucking Holograms. 

Ice Cube drops the chorus on the snappy State Of Emergency, but let’s not get too crazy about calling this a passing of the West-Coast torch; in terms of popularity and geographical face tattoos, The Game is in his prime, sure, but where’s the substance? Where’s the tracks we’re going to remember in five years? Cause I don’t see any.

Nevertheless, the Ludacris cameo on the impressive Ya Heard is great, and re-sparked my interest in the MC. Despite rhyming about his gun having abortions, Luda shines brighter than anything Jayceon spits on the entire record. Side by side, he just puts the Game to shame.

Money’s a standard vapid club track, a Betty Wright voice sample endlessly repeating the title while Taylor once again talks all kinds of shit and bites the hands that feed. He takes aim at his former boss with I was through flippin’ quarters when I made my first meal / I’m about a dollar, 50 Cent ain’t real. Real enough to give you a career and get your to cover up that stupid butterfly tattoo on your face, big guy. But hey, it’s your party. I just wouldn’t call it a coincidence that Dre didn’t show up.

Former Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker provides live percussion for Dope Boys, a whoopdefuckindoo detail if live drums didn’t sound so damn good on a hip-hop jam. Then again, the chorus is fucking retarded, so we’re back to square one.

Am I the only one on earth who wants to scream every time I hear synthesized vocals? My Life had some potential without Lil’ Wayne’s talents being completely wasted on the robotic hook. 

Game sure as hell knows how to pick a beat. The overall tone of the album is his usual shade of menacing self-absorption. His tactic has always been to rely on ferocity rather than actually move his lyrical ability beyond the most laughably stupid, so it’s clear from the start that the beats need to put in some overtime. A certain Mr. Curtis Jackson can undoubtedly relate.

Ultimately, despite the knob-twisting superstar lineup, LAX isn’t as well-produced as The Documentary and doesn’t pack nearly the punch that The Doctor’s Advocate does. It’s not a bad album- it simply proves that Game is an extremely inconsistent artist who needs to get the fuck over whatever daddy issues he’s got and drop the scowl. It’s an old pigeonhole schtick that most of us have outgrown. He should take a few cues from the hip-hop rolodex on his album and focus on the art instead of the thuggery. More than a decade after the east coast / west coast battles hit their climax, people are still cashing in on useless conflict. Ridiculous.

Jesus, DMX preaching again in the outro. Can you hire this guy to work funerals? If I die anytime soon, somebody pay this guy to give my eulogy.

LAX
August 23, 2008
Black Wall Street / Geffen / Interscope

1. Intro
2. LAX Files
3. State Of Emergency
4. Bulletproof Diaries
5. My Life
6. Money
7. Cali Sunshine
8. Ya Heard
9. Hard Liquor (Interlude)
10. House Of Pain
11. Gentleman’s Affair
12. Let Us Live
13. Touchdown
14. Angel
15. Never Can Say Goodbye
16. Dope Boys
17. Game’s Pain
18. Letter To The King
19. Outro

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 26th, 2008 at 2:19 PM and is filed under Reviews. You can follow any comments to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can comment, or trackback from your own site. Tags: DMX, Ice Cube, Kanye West, Ludacris, Raekwon, The Game, Travis Barker