Note: The following review was originally written on December 14, 2007
As a humongous Lupe fan, I'm just going to come out and say it: the album is a bit of a disappointment. Now, this isn't to say it's a bad record (not by a LONG shot). But I had pretty lofty expections, and The Cool just didn't quite meet them all the way.
The major problem stems from the whole "It's a concept album"/"It's not really a concept album" thing. The whole story surrounding the characters The Cool, The Streets, and The Game is incredibly fascinating, but as Lupe himself pointed out in the press, it only encompasses about 4 or 5 songs on the album. And it's spread out randomly. So essentially, it's a mini-concept record sprinkled within a straight up Lupe disc. And unless you do your homework (read the biographies and listen to "Pills/Real Recognize Real") you might be lost.
The dude should've just made the decision to either make a diverse new Lupe record, or go the full out concept direction. The way it stands now, it's just a bit of a mess and a tad incoherent.
But with that being said, this is still a damn good album with some damn good songs that are still way ahead of their time. Lyrically, Lupe continues to bring insanely innovative ideas to mainstream rap, and his flow is as slick as ever. The production does its job and never overtakes his lyrics (except for that nearly distracting sample job on "Gold Watch").
"Hip Hop Saved My Life" immediately stands out, as Lupe illustrates the allure of hip hop as the urban dream, and more specifically, the rise of the Houston rap scene :
He turns down the beat, writer's block impedes
Crying from the next room, a baby in need
Of some pampers and some food and a place to sleep
That, plus a black Cadillac on Ds, is what keeps him on track to be a great emcee
"Paris, Tokyo" is laid back as hell and conjures up memories of A Tribe Called Quest. "The Coolest" is the best of the concept material and features Lupe at his poetic best as he describes The Cool's love for The Streets:
I love her, with all my heart
Every vein, every vessel, every bullet lodged
With every flower that I ever took apart
She said, that she would give me greatness, status
Placement above the others
My face would grace covers
Of the magazines of the hustlers, paper
The likes of which that I have never seen
Her eyes glow green with the logo of our dreams
The purpose of our scene
An obscene obsession for the bling
Meanwhile, "Streets On Fire" is sonically brooding, and Lupe absolutely kills it lyrically. Check out the pure poetry on this:
HOOK:
Death is on the tip of her tongue
And danger's at the tip of her fingers
Streets...are...on..fi...re....to....night
(repeat)
VERSE:
Disease,
The virus is spreading in all directions
No safe zone, no cure, and no protection
No symptoms to find or signs of an infection
No vaccines, remedies, and no corrections
Quarantine the dreams and turn off all connections
Don't let 'em in, not a friend, not a reflection
Everybody's got it and wants you to have it next and
Don't accept 'em if you want to stay as an exception
(No pill, can heal, the ill, of this)
Sickness, some are still in doubt of his existence
Some call it forgiveness and some call it the vengeance
Some say it's an exit and some say it's an entrance
The poor say the rich have the cure
The rich say the poor are the source
Revolutionaries say it's psychological war invented by the press
Just to have something to report
Some say the first case came from a maternity ward
Some say a morgue, some say the skies
Some say the floors
Whores say the nuns
Nuns say the whores
And everybody is sure
The scientists say it only infects the mind
The little boy said it only infects the girls
The preacher man said it's going to kill off the soul
A bum said it's going to kill the whole wide world...
HOOK:
Death is on the tip of her tongue
And danger's at the tip of her fingers
Streets...are...on..fi...re....to....night
(repeat)
VERSE:
Believe,
Some say the neon signs by the loudspeakers repeatin'
That "everything is fine"
A subtle silence to demolish your troubled conscience
Of a populace with no knowledge
And every freedom denied
Every dream is designed
And broadcasted from the masses to the masses
From the antennas on top of the shrines
Must find the receiver and plant it during the panic
And shortly, it reports back everything in your mind
Everything is lying, everything is dying
Everything is a rule, everything is a crime
Everything was here, then everything rewind
The new weather burn the feathers off everything shined
(And she likes it, and she loves it)
The sadness, the madness, the bad s***
The lavish, the fastest, the clashes
The ashes to ashes, everything intertwined
My femme fatale, my dollar fondling angel
Once caught her changing the batteries in her halo
Receipt for her wings and everything that she payed for
And the address to the factory where they made those
Scientists say she's only inside my mind
The little boy said "What happened to all the girls?"
The preacher man said she's gonna kill off the soul
The dope boy said it's the whole wide world...
HOOK:
Death is on the tip of her tongue
And danger's at the tip of her fingers
Streets...are...on..fi...re....to....night
(repeat)
Overall, this is a strong record, yet it suffers from a failed execution of some of its biggest ideas. Lyrically, it's meaty as hell, and there aren't many emcees that can touch Lupe with a 50 foot pole. But after promising so much innovation, it falls just short of being the masterpiece I had hoped.
GRADE: B+
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