F
44%
Chingy
Hoodstar
Slot-A-Lot Records
Three years after his hit “Right Thurr,” the novelty of Chingy’s St. Louis-style rap has long since worn out. No matter how many vowels he drops “hurr” and “thurr” on the new album, Hoodstar, he can’t seem to pull it together to create a cohesive sound.
The album, split into two halves, celebrates the two sides of Chingy—the ’hood side, and the star side, but neither of Chingy’s personalities seem to have any original songwriting ideas, instead relying heavily on guest artists.
The best aspects of the track “U a Freak (Nasty Girl)” can be attributed to Mr. Collipark’s producing—all the trademarks of the snap genre are here, including Ying Yang-style whispers. The first single, “Pullin’ Me Back,” featuring hack actor Tyrese attempting “soulful” in the background, is
a sad replica of more memorable rap and R&B combos such as Obie Trice and Akon, or Usher’s work with Lil Jon and Ludacris.
It turns out that ripped-off ideas and nasally repetitions of lines from more popular songs including the lyrics “Lean with it, rock with it” and “Seven jeans, True Religion” actually made me wish I was listening to Dem Franchize Boyz or Fergie instead.
Attempting one more stab at the recipe for rap greatness, the final song is titled “Let’s Ride.” Is there some kind of rule out there that every rap album must include a song with this title? The song, rescued by Fatman Scoop’s rough and rowdy background hype, some whistles and a hand clap, is the best track on the album.
Though it has all the pieces to make a good album, Chingy’s Hoodstar fails to realize that a great album is more than the sum of its parts and some Southern slang.
—Meghan Sheffield
D
50%
Killswitch Engage
As Daylight Dies
Roadrunner
Returning to the scene with an album title that sounds more like a bad band name, Massachusetts’s Killswitch Engage have offered up another serving of their highly derivative brand of emotionally- tinged, melodic metalcore. As Daylight Dies is a thoroughly boring display of hackneyed riffs, tired rhythms and trite, juvenile attempts at sensitive lyrics. As a band that was once fresh and poised to
be a leader in the metalcore genre, Killswitch Engage have fallen into the money-making gothencore trap and due to massive success, increased album sales and high profile tours, they are apparently in no hurry to claw their way out.
Employing generic melodic riffage and their trademark call and response technique— scream, then coo—the boys in Killswitch have created what can be best described as a high-powered snoozefest.
The production is smooth and glossy, the signature touch of producer and the band’s guitarist Adam Dutkiewicz; however, no amount of studio trickery is going to fool me into thinking Carcass has reunited. Hopefully as daylight dies, the light on Killswitch’s career will also fade.
—Jordon Beenen
D
55%
+44
When Your Heart Stops Beating
Interscope
In case you didn’t know, +44 is the new musical project of former Blink 182 Mark Hoppus and Travis Barker. Along with guitarists Shane Gallagher and Craig Fairbaugh, Hoppus and Barker have attempted to parlay the relatively mature feel of the last Blink 182 album and explore a darker, edgier and scarier side of love and relationships. Sadly, however, they’re still just pop-punk boys who are afraid of the dark.
Song titles like “Lycanthrope,” “Little Death” and their breakout single “When Your Heart Stops Beating,” are frightening only because they came from the mind of married, 35-year-old fathers. The music itself is the standard fare one would expect from these Blink 182 alumni: power-chord riffs; simple, yet pulsing beats; and Hoppus’ trademark whine. The main problem with this album, however, is its lack of believability. The music is far too poppy and the vocals too upbeat to convey anything truly moody. The Misfits were certainly able to reconcile pop sensibilities with dark imagery, +44 sounds more like Ned Flanders trying to convince you that he’s tough.
Without the catchy hooks that helped launch Blink 182’s career, When Your Heart Stops Beating plods along awkwardly, until, mercifully, its heart stops beating.
—Jordon Beenen
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