Lupe Fiasco - The Cool

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With his 2006 debut, this Chicago native was heralded as the savior who would snatch back hip-hop from evil ring-tone rappers and mean-mugging mooks. The conflicted rhymes and warm, jazzy beats elevated Lupe above his back-patting ­conscious-rap contemporaries.


“I ain’t dumb down nothing,” the brainy MC now says self-righteously, in dumbed-down grammar. His labyrinthine wordplay is intact (Jay-Z called Lupe a “genius writer” in Blender), but he has turned surly and depressive, replacing exuberance with an aloof nihilism and egotism: According to The Cool, if Lupe can’t save hip-hop from itself, nobody can.

The CD is loosely tied together by a browbeating concept that condemns the glorification of Scarface-style violence and disposable pop-rap, but the moralism is as trite as a Tony Montana reference. “Streets on Fire” even decries mainstream hip-hop as a virus that could “kill the whole world.”

There are breaks from the ­jeremiads. “Gold Watch” is an airy rundown of endearing eccentricities—“I am ­American mentally with Japanese tendencies and Parisian sensibilities,” he claims while ­bigging-up Montblanc pens and green Now and Laters. The mutating, offbeat musical excursions—a little new wave here, a little arena rock there—liven up the CD. And on “Hi-Definition,” Lupe offers a ­vulnerable ­and¤starr...
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