DC rapper Wale, first album in no ‘Deficit’
“Attention Deficit” by Wale.
After weeks of pushing the release of ‘Deficit,’ Washington DC-based artist Wale finally has a studio album under his already studded belt. The production team assembled to work this record, his first studio album, is no stranger to the music world. Mark Ronson was a co-producer in Amy Winehouse’s album “Back to Black,” which won Record of the Year and Song of the Year with the single “Rehab.” Wale also tapped fellow Grammy winner The Neptunes.
The record is as big and grandiose as the team that helped make it. “Triumph” rumbles to a start, filled with funky horns, busy hand drums and slick keys while the rapper reminds listeners, “Ladies and gentleman, I ain’t trying to be politically correct.” This combination of the soul-dripping track and his smooth, sometimes eager flow (at one point he pretends to be an auctioneer) leans toward authenticity and not commercial, Auto Tune-flooded music.
Wale plays off Snow White in “Mirrors,” a track featuring Bun B. The raw back beat is topped with slick guitar licks and, unlike the first track, the music remains constant. But Wale proves here that he can be catchy, even when he challenges his rapper peers “Mirror, mirror on the wall / Who the realest of them all / That ain’t hard, swear to god / These niggas ain’t real at all.”
The album finds its way back to decadence in “Pretty Girls.” “My flow is on Pluto,” Wale spits on a gigantic bass kick beat accented with hand claps and a big pimpin’ attitude. It’s not a rap record without talking about attractive females right?
As the album passes through initial tracks and into the center, its core, Wale easily transitions from attracting listeners with glistening club bangers to introspective social commentary. Listeners learn in “World Tour” that he and his brother never finished school, which was against their mother’s wishes. Later in “90120” he takes jabs at wannabe Hollywood starlets, “Hear she throws up whatever she eat / She leave the bathroom with a nosebleed / Regular girl, celebrity dreams.” The high-pitched electronic synth is an excellent choice, creating Wale’s far-fetched image of unreachable dreams.
In “Shades” he tries to cope with his struggles with race. He admits to be haunted by the thought of lighter-skinned blacks having a better life, and how he quickly broke up with a girlfriend because of her light shade: “I’ll never let a light-skinned broad hurt me / That’s why I strike first and the first cut deep.” Wale is emotional and is truly conflicted here, which is somewhat of a surprise with the album’s early unbreakable swagger. Chrisette Michelle, who lends her sultry vocals for the chorus, can’t even console the troubled Wale.
Wale’s first studio album is a superb work of well-crafted and well-produced hip hop. In a genre with a formula, but doesn’t grant every artist success. A genre whose artists’ popularity is measured by their Auto Tune use or whether Lil Wayne collaborates on a track. Wale’s love of hip hop and gifts as an artist are unfazed by expectation. And his relentless swagger on “Attention Deficit” seems to be a long-awaited rush of fresh air.
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No Hands Feat. Chill & Wale (DC Remix)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FTsdM2VZT4