One concept, two personalities, and three acts
It’s not like the concept of a rapper splitting his personality in two is a new one.
On his debut album, DMX went from a marginally passive halfway crook to a growling, barking, baby-slapping, grandma-shooting dog/man.
For the latter part of the 1990s, Marshall Mathers had epic battles with Slim Shady, so much so that each personality needed his own album and the rapper ended up in a rehab facility.
The landmark in bipolar hip-hop still stands
as the pair of conflicted crooks on the Notorious B.I.G.’s “Gimme the Loot,” with one Biggie trying to talk the other out of stealing fur coats and “No. 1 Mom” pendants.
Back on 2003’s “Trap Muzik,” Atlanta rapper T.I. battled with his own alter-ego, T.I.P. Then the song was a neat but skippable idea . Now he’s gone and made it the whole premise of the follow-up album to “King,” his biggest commercial success to date.
“T.I. vs. T.I.P.,” which drops Tuesday , ends up being a kind of musical “Fight Club.” T.I.P. would be Brad Pitt’s Tyler Durden, with a tight fade and a black T-shirt, while his smooth but corporate counterpart, T.I., would be Ed Norton’s character. (You can almost imagine T.I. rapping, a la the movie, “I am Jack’s complete lack of backbone.”)
The album is a result of the kind of creative claustrophobia that comes with making a record that sells 500,000 copies in its first week. After “King,” T.I. seems to be wondering, “What do I do next?”
The problem with concept records is that after a while no one cares about the concept.
T.I., who for simplicity’s sake will be called from here out by his government name, Clifford Harris, works his idea out by splitting the album into three acts. The first uses menacing beats and sandpaper rhymes to lay out the character of T.I.P., who could sell crack by the boulder if he wanted to. In the second act, Just Blaze’s drums and Wyclef Jean’s screams underline the cleaner, cooler, safer T.I., whose life is a big jet-riding, drink-sippin’, girl-getting afterparty.
The hole in the concept is that the differences between the two characters aren’t that great. There’s a point in the third act where the two finally collide. It’s hard to tell who’s who, and after a while you really stop caring. All this ends up distracting from the important part, which is the music.
The crux of the rhymes are still the same. Harris is still the king of the South, dismissing contenders. He’s still enough of a pretty-boy to rap alongside Nelly about how they can take your girl. And he’s also the convicted dopeboy wiseman still stinging from the death of his personal assistant Philant Johnson in a gunfight last year, telling young knuckleheads there’s another way.
The hook-up with Jay-Z on “Watch What You Say To Me” has been due since Pharrell Williams of the Neptunes told XXL that Harris was “the Jay-Z of the South” in 2005. The collaboration works, mostly because Harris doesn’t try to be better than Jay, instead staying within his natural, syrupy delivery.
Jay-Z, who’s disappointed many with his recent appearances on pop records, delivers a sharp verse that’s noteworthy because it’s basically a dig at rapper-of-the-moment Lil Wayne and his more than awkward relationship with father figure Birdman (they kiss on the mouth). “Sooner or later I’ll take you up on your offer,” Jay warns, “and put you all in your place like I’m replacing your father.”
There’s also a track with Eminem, “Touchdown,” over an Em-produced beat that’s impossible to catch. Eminem spits his signature breathless assonance, but he’s talking about playing Frogger with real people, which is silly.
Whether the album’s lead single, “Big Things Poppin’, ” is as big as the “King” smash “What You Know ” is irrelevant. “King” captured a moment in rap, with the South taking over, while Harris’ movie “ATL” dropped at the same time.
To follow up with this big, rap-altering creation is overambitious, but “T.I. vs. T.I.P.” succeeds — accidentally, perhaps — because the sound remains true to the albums that came before. It’s 2005’s “Urban Legend” with smoother edges, or “King” at a cool little night club instead of an arena.
© Copyright 2007 Globe Newspaper Company.
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