DJ Khaled was at the forefront of Miami’s hip-hop scene re-exploding on a national level, spouting passionate declarations over undeniably street, yet consistently commercial hits.
His latest album, We The Best Forever, drops today to less fanfare than his previous releases but anyone who’s familiar with the rap impresario knows Khaled won’t let it go unnoticed.
The unequivocally engaging impresario ushered in a new era out of artists from the area climbing out of the shadow of Uncle Luke’s Miami Bass success in the late 80s and early 90s and the runs of Trick Daddy Trina. They’ve built and maintained their success by paying homage to their Florida predecessors and tenants of their local roots, most notably the culture created after the explosion of the cocaine industry. Their music was infused not with the grittiness of the worst hoods but their decadence — think Tony Montana.
Khaled’s chart-topping affiliations with artists like Rick Ross, Lil Wayne and Drake have catapulted the background player that broke tracks and acts on local radio to the status of national tastemaker, with We The Best Forever emerging has his opportunity to prove he’s especially strong in the summer.
The features alone look like a who’s who in the black music. From the timeless (Mary J. Blige and Busta Rhymes) to current crossover stars (B.o.B, Big Sean and Cee-Lo), his familiar supporting cast (Rick Ross, Lil Wayne, T-Pain, and Plies), his newest labelmates (Tyga, Corey Gunz and Jae Millz) and the nearly forgotten (The Game and Akon).
The problem is that what looks so good on paper never materializes. Most of what makes the aforementioned artists headlining talents is diluted into cookie-cutter caricatures of what they are actually capable of. For the most part, tracks strike you as uninspired, convenient paydays on beats they had laying around for a couple years. Failing to evoke any genuine emotion, many of the tracks come off as poorly executed, great ideas of what a song could be with the collection of talent assembled for them.
An R&B super song like “Legendary” with Chris Brown, Keyshia Cole & Ne-Yo is a perfect example. In terms of its conception, it seems like a home run. All those voices on one song could have been amazing but what it ends up being is a mess with the question arising, is Khaled solely to blame for wasting great talent on a bunch of forgettable tracks?
That answer isn’t so easy.Think about it, this isn’t the same era when DJ Clue was dropping The Professional and Funkmaster Flex 60 Minutes of Funk, compilation albums with all the biggest stars on these super tracks. Banking on the success of a DJ compilation album in 2011 is about as smart as betting on a true Republican contender to emerge. Especially a decade removed from heyday for this type of project, Forever is perfect example of why projects like this don’t necessarily work as traditionally packaged.
Had this been a mixtape, it probably wouldn’t have been so heavy-handedly produced — Khaled’s Cash Money debut is also the first album where he was the featured producer — and it would have most likely featured re-imaginations of current radio hits to draw you into something comfortable and familiar. Most importantly, wouldn’t have cost a dime.
If this album were free, you wouldn’t feel like someone was wasting anything other than your time when only one-fourth of the record having any sort of replay value.
Missing are the things that made his previous albums work. There’s no smash hit like “I’m So Hood” was on We The Best or “Go Hard” with Kanye West was on We Global. Even his trademarked energy was underplayed. The creatively grandiose ‘motivational speeches’ fall flat without the other environmental factors that made them so great in the past.
What had been a steady stream of quality street music with a unique commercial viability now plays as tired. Safe even. For its bright spots, “Money” with Young Jeezy and Ludacris or “Welcome to My Hood (Remix)” with phenomenal verses turned in over seven minutes of the anthemic music you’ve come to expect, the rest is strangely dated — point to copious amounts of auto-tune and a Plies feature — and lacks the that spark it once had.
Declaring the end of an era would be overstating it but Khaled seemed to have caught on with Young Money/Cash Money empire during the decline of their noted success on the charts. Forever is hardly and testament to how good Khaled can be but rather a Rolodex of the people he knows, which at the end of the day, may be his enduring legacy.
I just hope his next album features the oozing emotion and engaging anthems I like to think of him for and the All-Star talents he assembles gives much more than an All-Star game effort.