MUSIC REVIEWS
LL Cool J - Todd Smith
David Allun Jones
For those around during hip hop’s Golden Era, LL Cool J will always matter in some way. The ferocious firepower delivered on world-renowned classics like “I’m Bad” and “Mama Said Knock You Out” may not justify his own self-claim as the Greatest Of All Time, but it definitely puts him in a higher ranking than most give him credit for. For younger cats, though, LL remains nothing more than a Hollywood-baiting relic from rap’s old days, able to chuck out a decent radio record from time to time and always send the ladies who love him into a wet frenzy with the requisite on-stage shirt rip off. A constant figure on the charts as rap trends change and the focus shifts from one region to the next, the man deserves kudos for his amazing longevity he’s had, but for the new hip hop generation, his purpose as an artist must remain questionable. Especially when he’s reduced himself to the radio-friendly, guest-heavy fluff found all over Todd Smith.
A desperate bid to remain relevant, at least in a commercial sense, Todd Smith searches out the biggest artists and producers in urban music for an album in which every track has the potential to earn heavy radio spins. It’s as if he’s given up on being a challenge to the rap throne, effortlessly coasting by with songs that will forever guarantee a large female fan base. If this were the late nineties’, when slick hip-pop reigned, Todd Smith would be a guaranteed multi-platinum smash with corny songs like the Spanish-inflected ”#1 Fan”, sappy “Down The Aisle” wedding theme and remix of Ne-Yo’s “So Sick” (complete with tired sample of Michael Jackson’s overly-mined “Human Nature”) ruling the charts. In the here and now, these records are so transparent in their crossover ambitions, they immediately lend themselves to the fast-forward button.
As generic as the album can get (to the point where R&B cameos from artists as disparate as Lyfe Jennings, Mary J Blige, Jamie Foxx and Ginuwine end up stale and interchangeable), LL does reveal some neat little tricks at times. He plays around with his flow a little, tackling a Southern cadence on the stirring slow jam “Freeze”, or reprising his “Goin’ Back To Cali” delivery on the electric “Control Myself”, a weak successor to Missy Elliott’s similar tribute to the 1980’s, “Lose Control”, but equally as old school giddy with it’s relentless Afrika Bambaataa sample and sweaty J Lo hook. He also holds his own alongside Juelz Santana and Freeway on two harder offerings, briefly breaking up the lovey dovey and/ or inspirational themes found everywhere else. And on “I’ve Changed”, LL puts his acting skills to the test, playing an ex-boyfriend who refuses to believe it’s over. With each verse, LL grows more and more crazed: standing outside her home in the rain, attacking her new beau with a baseball bat and threatening to dent her best friend’s brain with a brick because she keeps tainting his name in his former lover’s eyes. The song ends with a dramatic stand-off with the police as he begs for his lady to reconsider their love.
When Mama Cool J encouraged LL to knock ‘em out over fifteen (!!) years ago, the man was full of life and energy, instantly grabbing our attention with it’s explosive intro jab at haters (“Don’t call it a comeback!!”). Today, LL’s still bringing about unconsciousness, but it’s through his boring regression as an uninspired artist than through his seemingly long lost hard hitting lyrical slayings. Jay Z knew when to “call it quits”, why can’t the one rapper who needs to retire throw in the towel. It would be one hip hop retirement no one would protest over.
