Talib breaks from concsiousness

Although Talib Kweli was billed below Wale and Macklemore at last semester’s Little 500 performance, the Brooklyn MC is undeniably one of the most revered wordsmiths in hip-hop history. Since his breakthrough as half of the rap duo Black Star, Talib has made a career of writing socially conscious underground rap songs. He has been celebrated by critics and peers alike for his acrobatic wordplay, rich vocabulary and on-point social commentary. Jay-Z famously rhymed, “If skill sold, truthfully I’d probably be lyrically Talib Kweli” on the Black Album. Now, on Talib’s fifth solo album, he seems ready to move past the socially conscious work he’s been labeled for.

Prisoner of Conscious is a mission statement — Talib is fed up with constantly being boxed in by his “conscious” labeling, which has resulted in acclaim, but very little commercial triumph. This dissatisfaction lends itself to Talib stepping out of his comfort zone on the album to varying success. While there are still plenty of rich lines and conscious song topics, Talib does revel in some of rap’s more mainstream fascinations, such as bragging about his rap skills and making a few cheesy metaphors. For example, “Upper Echelon” might be the biggest departure of Talib’s career, as he rhymes over a siren-sounding electronic beat, rather than his typical old-school soul beats. The transition to more modern sounding production isn’t as awkward as you’d assume, but Talib still sounds his best over traditional beats.

The guests on the album provide a nice break from Talib’s occasionally exhausting rhymes. Curren$y and Kendrick Lamar both deliver compelling verses on “Push Thru”, especially Kendrick who is repeatedly proving that being socially conscious and mainstream is a viable option. Miguel continues his winning stream with a smooth hook on “Come Here”, while Rubix and Bajah trade off energetic stanzas on “High Life”.

It’s difficult to criticize Talib’s lyrics and flow though, because from a technical standpoint, his use of multi-syllabic rhymes and his trademark flow are admirable. Still, Talib’s almost robotically technical delivery prevents him from really connecting on an emotional level. His vocabulary is rich. Can you name another rapper that uses words like oxymoronic, charcuterie, or onomatopoeia in their songs? However, it’s this intellect that can sometimes make his music alienating, especially if you’re used to your hip-hop being catchy, masculine and easy to grasp.

Basically, you shouldn’t be listening to Talib for great beats and catchy hooks. There are a few beats on the album that are notable, such as RZA’s thundering background on “Rocket Ships” and J. Cole’s inspired beat for “It Only Gets Better”, but generally, the production and hooks on the album are lacking. The lyrics are the true highlight. On the album’s most high concept song, “Hamster Wheel”, Talib paints the picture of a woman who is clearly in a bad relationship, but can’t seem to get out of it. Talib rhymes, “How she running these streets but always standing still? She needs to get up off the hamster wheel.”

Biting social commentary can also be found throughout, with some of my favorite lines being “we’re acting out stereotypes like a Tyler Perry movie” and “they’re saying we need a revolution, but their passion is reduced to all-caps on a computer.”

Talib’s disdain for the term “socially conscious” is actually unfortunate, because it’s his socially conscious material on Prisoner of Conscious that hits the hardest.

By Bronson DeLeon