The Ecstatic

Mos DefThe EcstaticIf Fox Sports asked, say, writer Stephen King or director Tom DiCillo to run coverage on the Super Bowl, would diehard football fans complain? An hour or so of prep time and then let the cameras roll. Sure, King or DiCillo or whoever would be well studied, well spoken and entertaining, but would they be able to satisfy the real, true, diehard fans with their insights? Absolutely not. This rubbery analogy in mind, I beg you, as a loose rule, not to ever put too much stake into hip-hop album reviews. Here’s the thing: most of the press you’re going to read about Mos Def’s fourth proper studio album, The Ecstatic, was probably written by an overly literate 20- or 30-something grad student from Kansas or Vermont. Maybe Canada. They may appear to know their stuff (Wikipedia supposedly has grades rising at universities around the world), but that’s not the point. If you want it straight, at least where hip-hop is concerned, go to the source - and I’m not talking about the publication, The Source. I’m talking about the real source, your local DJs, b-boys, emcees, producers, etc. Ear to the street.

But hey, let’s get to this review. Mos Def - armed with as much charisma, style, genre knowledge, connections and ability as anyone out there - just can’t seem to make the “classic summertime boom-bap” record he’s so long dream of. Sure, his proper debut, Black On Both Sides, is fantastic. Maybe even a classic. But a decade has passed since that record was released, a decade full of forgettable Mos Def albums and, as those other reviewers will likely harp on, a steady diet of mediocre Mos Def films. The Ecstatic is, however, better than Mos’ recent work. It’s not the distant cousin to Midnight Marauders or De La Soul is Dead that fans have long hoped for, but it’s a decent record that often reminds of hip-hop’s second classic era (1991-94).

The problem here is the charisma - the confidence of our man. Mos Def makes ambitious music, both lyrically and stylistically, that only works about half the time. He doesn’t realize this. Simply, he needs an editor (but who am I to say such a thing?). Rather than focus on a few themes and release 10 or so of the 30 or so tunes he records per session, Mos puts out long, sprawling records that feel unfocused and overwhelming. Overbaked worked from an overconfident artist - same ‘ol same. There are some instant boom-bap classics sprinkled throughout (“Priority” and “Casa Bey” stand out), but The Ecstatic hardly works as the easily-flowing listening experience Mos has so clearly been aiming for all along. The jazz-touched tunes remind of the always-good score work jazz musician Terence Blanchard has long offered Spike Lee films - a good fit, considering the whole Bed-Stuy connection. But these songs, especially the aforementioned “Priority,” have the late summer night feel of all of Mos’ best work - some of which can almost stand up to those Tribe and De La records many of us hold so dear.

Usually I prefer hip-hop artists to keep the guest appearances to a minimum, which Mos does here - possibly to a fault. Fellow Black Star Talib Kweli pops up in an unimpressive fashion, only to be out slummed by the ruler, Slick Rick, who sounds as awful as ever, legacy be damned. Mos, however, always sounds good, even if he’s not quite able to carry a full length records on his own. The real guests of note on The Ecstatic are the producers, many of whom have worked with the Mighty Mos over the years and all of which are perfectly able - save for maybe The Neptunes, who ran out of ideas long ago - of making a classic beat. Madlib, as usual, leads the way with his handful of offerings, followed by the late Jaydee, a man who didn’t make bad beats. All in all, the production here is impressive upon a track-by-track review, but hardly works as one complete piece. Too many cooks, as they say.

But don’t listen to me; I’m just another university-wandering, Wiki-reading 29-year-old flunkie who looks at the heart of hip-hop through the window. Go ask a DJ or your local battle champ. They’ll know the time.  7/10

Written by G. William Locke