Talib Kweli deserves to be pissed off. One of the best rappers around, Kweli has collaborated with all-star producers Hi-Tek, Kanye West and will.i.am from the Black Eyed Peas, been in a critically acclaimed group with Mos Def (Black Star) and shared a stage with a variety of alternative rap luminaries in Dave Chapelle’s Block Party movie. Hell, he has even gotten a shout-out in a Jay-Z song. But despite all the accolades and accomplishments, it still seems as if no one in the general public (and few in the rap world) have heard of him.
Part of his obscurity can be attributed to Kweli’s “conscious” politics, which make him more apt to write a verse about providing affordable housing for impoverished communities than brag about his skills as a drug dealer. As noble as his intentions are, they make it pretty difficult to market his music to hip-hop radio.
Sonically, Kweli isn’t easily marketable either. His rhymes are quickly delivered in a high-pitched cadence that even seasoned rap fans find difficult to decipher. Add in a disheartening mix of sub-par beats that have failed to keep pace with Kweli’s consistently amazing musings, and you begin to understand why his past few solo albums have failed to garner commercial attention, despite being critically embraced.
On Eardrum (Aug. 14 Blacksmith/Warner Bros.), Kweli continues his struggle to balance skill and accessibility in a bid for increased commercial viability. This time out, he has given more substantial beats by Madlib, West, will.i.am and Just Blaze, among others. Kweli uses the added sonic support as a framework for creating his own parallel universe. By filling songs with lines like “freedom is the set that I bang with” (from “Stay Around”) Kweli draws on the familiar to entice his audience to think about hip-hop as an entire art form beyond top-40-approved lyrical clich?s and great beats.
Kweli’s lyrics have always been the primary reason for the respect he gets from peers and critics, and he more than lives up to his sizable reputation throughout the album. Though certain tracks follow typical hip-hop song structures (slow and honest, up-tempo and boastful etc.), Kweli incorporates his unique lyrics into the existing structure to create something far more unpredictable and timeless.
The slow-jamming “Soon the New Day” features Norah Jones and seems to be a song celebrating the club atmosphere and lifestyle, but closer examination reveals a thoughtful condemnation of an empty lifestyle. Similarly, the poppy “Hot Thing” retains its soulful core, bringing righteousness to the radio in the guise of a shallow radio hit.
For every shout of “we keep it real” or dismissal of the glorification of gunplay or violence, Kweli offers a song with substance. The spiritual “Give ’em Hell” actually mentions various religions and discusses the plight of daily living. “Eat to Live” discusses the impact of food shortages on a variety of people, and “More or Less” suggests solutions to reform hip-hop and the world in a poetic fashion.
By focusing his “blood, sweat, tears, years, struggle, love, hate, fear” (from “NY Weather Report”) into his latest release, Kweli has created an opus full of condemnations, suggestions and insight delivered with stirring vigor that should appeal to anyone with even a cursory interest in hip-hop. Eardrum is a universal album that hijacks traditional hip-hop and places it in the sphere of more respected music by removing a large amount of the polarizing aspects of the music and creating art that will appeal to people of a variety of persuasions and situations. Somewhere the godfathers of hip-hop are smiling; they know who Talib Kweli is and, hopefully, everyone else will too.
