Let me start this review by saying that I have a generally positive attitude towards Ludacris. I think he is a skilled rapper. His beats are always big and loud; his lyrics are always full of pop culture references and contain more tongue-in-cheek puns per line that you can keep count of. True, most puns are just crude, trashy, juvenile humor, but some are diamonds in the rough.
Nevertheless, although he has sold more albums than most contemporary rappers and his fans love him, he is somewhat neglected by the larger hip-hop community. His new release, "Release Therapy," hit the shelves Tuesday. It tries to redefine his status in the hip-hop world by touching on a more sensitive and intellectual "'Cris from the South" than the one we are used to.
The result leaves one wondering?what the hell is Luda up to? "You're going to take me serious on this album, I guarantee it," he announced several days before the release.
The rapper has claimed in interviews that his approach to the album was the same approach he would take to a mixed tape?half of the disc is Luda in his old self, rapping about things like "ultimate satisfaction" and "woozy" and "grew up your screw up." This is what he referred to as the "release part" of the album.
The other half of it?the meditation, therapeutic one in Ludacris standards?turns out quite unexpected: the tear-jerker, "Runaway Love," an ambitious song about his battles in life, "War with God," a song called "Do Your Time" about a grim prison sentence, and even?yes, you guessed it?his very own prayer, a gospel song entitled, "Right of Preach."
Fans already speculate that Luda got too full of himself after being cast in that Oscar-winning "serious" movie "Crash," and he just tries to live up to this newly conceived dramatic image. It is clear that the purpose of this album is not so much to raise sales, but to gain him some due respect in hip-hop for showcasing his ability to tackle more than bad and dirty sex jokes and bragging about the inch sizes of his rims. Don't go searching Luda's previous albums for these references, because the album still has plenty of them. The result is a quite schizophrenic album with really good songs if they were taken one at a time.
The opening single, "Money Maker," a collaboration with Pharell, already tops Billboard charts with its bumping disco beat. Other highlights on the wild side include the aforementioned "Woozy," co-performed with R. Kelly. Other songs include features with famous and not-so-famous hot rappers like duo Field Mob and Albany.
I would not call this album a misfire, because it most definitely isn't. It is just a typical Ludacris album with a different twist. Its saving grace is that even Chris "Ludacris" Bridges himself does not take his new image too seriously and inserts some sweet puns in the least expected places, which I am not going to spoil for you. Remember, it's not an identity crisis we are talking about here. It's just much-needed therapy.