Burninating the 3rd Coast

Chamillionaire’s ‘Man on Fire’ is an inspiring, episodic ballad detailing an eponymous rags-to-riches journey and the motivations empowering the ambitious titular character. Crushing and commanding vocals are laid down over the streamlined beats of DJ Smalls, no featherweight himself. The only thing more amazing than the velocity and power of this tour-de-force is its autobiographical nature. Chamillionaire truly has lived the life of the downtrodden and yet still managed to bootstrap himself to a glittering reality of guns, women, weed, and mix tapes the rest of us can only dream about.

That’s what I’d be saying if I hadn’t heard the album. Also, if I wrote for The Source.

'Man on Fire' is somewhat of an awkward call, because it’s less about the album and more about the audience’s willingness to suspend their disbelief that rappers are, in fact, making art that is supposed to either mean something, say something, or have some form of artistic merit even if it’s just comedic hyperbole. As it is, Chamillionaire’s ‘Man-on-Fire’ is just kinda fun to listen to as you’re stuck in I-10 traffic during rush-hour, which, much like happy hour, seems to have annexed that space of time between dawn and tomorrow-at-dawn. If the TXDOT would relax its standards and let the two meet, and I could finally sell liquor off a motorcycle as I swerve through, around, and over traffic in a go-go-gadgetcycle-type-gig I swear to God I’d be a millionaire tomorrow.

Or maybe a ‘Chamillionaire’.

Man-on-Fire’s unspectacularness starts from the ground-up. DJ Smalls (‘cuz ‘Biggie’ was taken?) hypes himself as the most notorious DJ in the South, which probably has more to do with the fact that he’s a master of self-promotion and still can’t get respect on either other coast, but even so, the vast majorities of his beats could have been easily replaced by three buttons on a drum machine. Throw in a two instrument track from Audition and a sample from a 70’s hit and you’re in business. There’s some deviation from this formula (self-aggrandizing plugs, mostly), but it’s fairly faithful to the design. I’d go so far as to say a monkey could do it, but I wouldn’t, because only tattoo-sporting Aryan racists compare black people to monkeys.

You’d be tempted to think ‘well, if the DJ-ing isn’t spectacular, then it won’t steal from the powerful and poignant lyricism of the songs’ if by ‘powerful and poignant lyricism’ you’re referring to brilliant choruses like:

“I hear you talking that talk
I heard you was talking ‘bout me
Soon as I ask who you ‘talkin to
You reply with all it’s not me”

Dude. Rhyming ‘Me’ with ‘Me’. That’s genius.

With certain exceptions, Chamillionaire’s written words leave a certain je ne sais quoi to be desired. And by ‘je ne sais quoi’, I mean thought and/or originality. There’s one thing for developing a motif in your work. I think the rap game is a little beyond the thematic virtues of shooting unregistered pistols at your enemies and making a shitload of money tax free by selling mix tapes out the back of your ’95 Pontiac Sunfire, though.

If his lyrics are judged and found wanting (and they are), his delivery is to be admired. It’s basic, but not only can I understand what he’s saying (in that his pronunciation of English words is intelligible) even if I don’t necessarily ‘feel him’, his delivery is charismatic and inclusive. Even when he’s literally telling me he’s better than me, he does it with an authority and confidence that’s really attractive. And every once in a while, he’ll throw some quotables that are hilarious;

“What do you know ‘bout a deal with a bigger cut?
Bringin money in on some wheelbarrows, fill’em up!”

Or

“You get property, you better watch for me
‘Cuz I’ll buy that land that you livin on
And sell it right back to ya like monopoly!”

Chamillionaire’s style rarely travels far from a repetitive 4/4 cadence. That said, his headline tracks ‘Realest Nigga In It’ and ‘The Truth Is Back’ (though ‘Where it Went’ and ‘Did It Have A Nice Time There’ remain undisclosed) involve a lot of metric diversity. Also deserving of note are the guest-stars who really shine, perhaps because of, not in spite of, only being on the CD for eight bars or less. In fact, my favorite line comes from ‘Lil Scrappy:

“And my nigga George Bush wanna thow me to slavery”.

I didn’t just LOL. I came.

Also, the line doesn’t make any more sense in context. It doesn’t even rhyme.

On a 1-5 scale, I’m gonna rank Man-on-Fire ‘Thowed’. The overall effect is above mediocre, and the albums legitimately fun to listen to. I hate critics who get their panties in a bunch when artists don’t bend over sideways and slobberjaw their favorite fetish, but at the same time, ‘Man on Fire’ doesn’t really bring anything new to the table. Chamillionaire’s album is a commodity hyped by an insanely over-aggressive sales pitch and probably one of the most shameless displays of self-promotion I’ve ever seen.

And by ‘Shameless displays of self-promotion’, I mean Chamillionaire has twice as many MySpace friends as Jesus, thus proving the ability to turn water to wine makes you less popular than the ability to sell a cd of solid crap like it's made of gold.