3.0 out of 5
Def Jam
Def Jam
With so much changing in hip-hop, it can be hard to know where to hang your fitted. In eras passed the game was always dominated by a handful of superstars, emanating from powerful and omnipresent camps or coasts: DMX of Ruffryders, Juvenile of Cash Money, Master P of No Limit, Pac in the West and Big in the East.
As a fan, you knew where you stood - which new artists to check for and what paraphernalia to rep. Posse albums actually went hard and sold well, Ryde or Die volumes one and two in particular still being worthy of dusting off every now and then. Today of course, every one of those empires has crumbled, their figureheads lost or buried by turf wars, financial fiascos, the government and the unkind passage of time. It's no wonder that the midsize stars and demigods that have emerged in their place have been free agents, self-interested and charismatic hustlers like Young Jeezy, T.I., Rick Ross, and don't forget Fabolous.
"No Diddy, no Dupri, no Dr. Dre/ No cash money from Baby and no roc from Jay," Fab barks on the stereotypical but arrestingly aggressive intro to "Loso's Way." He's still here, he tells us, despite the conspicuous disappearance of the industry heavyweights who used to back him, specifically the unmentioned DJ Clue and the Neptunes. Loso's Way is about making it on your own, a big quasi-blockbuster album that splits the difference between the tent-pole affairs of the past and the stark realities of the present. Excluding the new wave self starter Ryan Leslie, there are practically no big name producers on the entire 16 tracks. Yet the album is punctuated with all the signifiers of the landmark epics of old - the big-dick declaration in "Feel Like I'm Back," the gutter posse cut in "There He Go," the conflicted rumination in "Pachanga," and the monster R&B singles in "Throw it in the Bag" and "Everything, Everyday, Everywhere," featuring that genre's two most talented upstarts, The-Dream and Keri Hilson. Hell, he even shelled out the 10 cent going rate for a Weezy hook.
Thankfully, Fab has been gifted with a genuinely top-tier punch-line game ("I know what I'ma tell her, the same thing that the bank robber told the teller, 'Just throw it in the bag.'" And "Who are you to tell me how to conduct myself? Why don't you practice safe sex and go fuck yourself" are just two snappy examples) that he deploys liberally and buoys the album above the typical genre conventions he so thoroughly embraces.
Even amidst an insurmountable wave of new artists and mixtapes, Loso's Way manages to command attention, repeated listens, even, harkening back to the days when your favorite artists were everyone else's, too. With no posses or bosses, Fab deserves all the credit.
- Reggie Ugwu
As a fan, you knew where you stood - which new artists to check for and what paraphernalia to rep. Posse albums actually went hard and sold well, Ryde or Die volumes one and two in particular still being worthy of dusting off every now and then. Today of course, every one of those empires has crumbled, their figureheads lost or buried by turf wars, financial fiascos, the government and the unkind passage of time. It's no wonder that the midsize stars and demigods that have emerged in their place have been free agents, self-interested and charismatic hustlers like Young Jeezy, T.I., Rick Ross, and don't forget Fabolous.
"No Diddy, no Dupri, no Dr. Dre/ No cash money from Baby and no roc from Jay," Fab barks on the stereotypical but arrestingly aggressive intro to "Loso's Way." He's still here, he tells us, despite the conspicuous disappearance of the industry heavyweights who used to back him, specifically the unmentioned DJ Clue and the Neptunes. Loso's Way is about making it on your own, a big quasi-blockbuster album that splits the difference between the tent-pole affairs of the past and the stark realities of the present. Excluding the new wave self starter Ryan Leslie, there are practically no big name producers on the entire 16 tracks. Yet the album is punctuated with all the signifiers of the landmark epics of old - the big-dick declaration in "Feel Like I'm Back," the gutter posse cut in "There He Go," the conflicted rumination in "Pachanga," and the monster R&B singles in "Throw it in the Bag" and "Everything, Everyday, Everywhere," featuring that genre's two most talented upstarts, The-Dream and Keri Hilson. Hell, he even shelled out the 10 cent going rate for a Weezy hook.
Thankfully, Fab has been gifted with a genuinely top-tier punch-line game ("I know what I'ma tell her, the same thing that the bank robber told the teller, 'Just throw it in the bag.'" And "Who are you to tell me how to conduct myself? Why don't you practice safe sex and go fuck yourself" are just two snappy examples) that he deploys liberally and buoys the album above the typical genre conventions he so thoroughly embraces.
Even amidst an insurmountable wave of new artists and mixtapes, Loso's Way manages to command attention, repeated listens, even, harkening back to the days when your favorite artists were everyone else's, too. With no posses or bosses, Fab deserves all the credit.
- Reggie Ugwu
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