50 Cent “The Massacre”
Interscope
50 Cent is arguably the biggest rapper in the world. His records
sell by the millions to adoring fans from Tokyo to Norman,
Oklahoma. He continues to garner critical attention and grace
countless magazine covers, due in no small part to a
larger-than-life story that guarantees to dazzle the star-struck
media right into his back pocket. But is this what rap music has
come to? “The Massacre,” 50 Cent’s follow-up to
the massively successful “Get Rich or Die Trying,”
unmistakably proves that, well, he got rich and stopped trying. The
enthusiastic reception of a record as by-the-numbers and
unapologetically lazy as “The Massacre” is a sad
reflection of the music industry today. Unfortunately, that
doesn’t seem to matter to the public. But it’s just as
unfair to pass judgment based solely on these outside factors,
instead of letting the music stand for itself. So forget for a
moment that the G-Unit’s abuse of street cred to sell corny
pop songs disguised as hyper-masculine posturing is one of the most
annoying things to hit hip-hop in years. Or that the album was
clearly rushed and thrown together to meet its demanding release
schedule. Ignore just how ridiculous that cover looks, with 50
apparently trying out for the role of Venom in the next Spider-Man
movie. Forget, even, the artists and past work 50 goes to lengths
to rip off. First single “Disco Inferno” should have
been called “On Fire in Da Club;” current single
“Candy Shop” might as well be “Lean Back the
Magic Stick.” “This is 50″ begins presumptuously
with the same drum sample intro from Biggie’s “Things
Done Changed,” invoking absurdly unfavorable comparisons. And
it hasn’t even been a year since Ghostface flipped precisely
the same sample used in “I Don’t Need ‘Em.”
Most embarrassing is the way that ““ after publicly
criticizing Ja Rule for singing too much ““ 50 slaps his
singing all over just about everything here. To call this record
merely derivative would be a compliment. Strip all that away, and
what’s left is a 77-minute snooze-fest of cliches mumbled
over unadventurous production. Gone is whatever semblance of wit,
charisma or effort that got 50 Cent to the top. Instead, he
struggles for attention on songs like “Piggy Bank,” one
of the worst diss records in history in which 50 flings toothless,
immature barbs at superior MCs Fat Joe, Jadakiss and Nas. He also
mixes in gimmicks such as “Gatman and Robin,” which is
an immediate contender for both worst song and worst song title of
the year. There are exactly two good songs on this album:
“Ski Mask Way” and a remix of “Hate It or Love
It.” A handful of others squander interesting beats, and the
rest are a complete waste of time. Increasingly, it seems that all
it takes these days for widespread acclaim are a few good beats and
a hype machine. For this standard of mediocrity, we can’t
blame 50 Cent, but we can blame him for garbage like “The
Massacre.”
-Alfred Lee