balogun's Full Review: Slaughterhouse [PA] by Slaughterhouse
Face it: If any of these guys -- Joell Ortiz, Crooked I, Royce da 5’9,” and Joe Budden -- had a scintilla of a chance at hip-hop superstardom, that came and went a while ago. Ortiz left Aftermath, a label lorded over by the revered yet notoriously tardy and reclusive Dr. Dre. Crooked I has languished for more than a decade -- first under Virgin and Death Row Records, then presently as a mixtape-peddling label executive. Royce da 5’9” could have rode the rising star of Eminem, but that relationship ended acrimoniously due to a bitter feud with D12, and he has since been doomed to a career of barely-heard albums and ghostwriting duties. As for Joe Budden, well, let me just say things have never been quite the same since “Pump It Up” soared to the pop top 10 -- and his debut album flopped.
Thus the formation of a supergroup called Slaugherhouse does appear at least dubious, no matter the level of Internet support these guys seem to have garnered, or that it was actually formed out of the initial chemistry generated while working together on a Budden track. Looking at rap music history, supergroups were usually founded for one or two reasons: 1.) more exposure for budding careers, and/or 2.) CPR for flagging ones, and with the arrival of Slaughterhouse, it appears to be a combination of the two. Besides, would these guys, who haven’t really accomplished anything substantial or groundbreaking in the rap genre, qualify as a supergroup? Westside Connection: Sure, Ice Cube was the only truly big star, but WC and Mack 10 were regionally acclaimed, so they get away with it. Ditto to The Firm, which comprised Nas, AZ, Foxy Brown, and Nature. Now, an amalgamation of, say, Kanye West, Jay-Z, Common, and Lupe Fiasco would be more like it! But Ortiz, Crooked, Royce, and Joey: a supergroup? Really?
Anyway, whatever, I digress. On to the album: I would say it is solid in some parts. Drawing from an anatomical analogy -- the head (Royce), the trunk (Ortiz), the arms (Crooked), and the legs (Budden) -- Slaughterhouse purports to work as a one-man army optimally primed for a thorough conquest. Hey, at least they get most of the job done. Commencing the album with “Sound Off” where all four MCs transition from a relatively slow pace to a triple-cadence flow over StreetRunner’s trumpet triumph, they become stealthy mercenaries in “Lyrical Murderers”, and then brutalize with great aid from the Alchemist’s rapidly dancing piano notes in “Microphone”. StreetRunner returns to serve the vibrant soul thump of “Not Tonight” for the rhyme slingers to pulverize; likewise to “Onslaught 2” and “Killaz”, where Emile takes over the boards. Granted, the uproarious street single -- the M.O.P.-featuring “Woodstock (Hood Hop)” -- could have been included in here, but hey, as long as there are enough moments where adversaries have “clothes looking like they was designed by bullet holes and shoe prints” (Royce), there isn’t much to complain about.
What I would rather complain about, however, is the qualitative inconsistencies of the group. Ortiz simply has the most amount of bright moments in the album, exchanging lead verses from song to song with Royce, who is the most polished flow-wise of the rapping quartet. Crooked I merely puts forth a middling effort, no more no less. As for Budden, he is dead last and consequently drags everybody behind. In fact, he noticeably never leads off in a song, symbolically relegated to the third or last verse. It is quite distressing to hear him failing to be as dexterous with the triple flow as his peers in “Sound Off”. And worse, while the album reveals that he’s understandably chagrined at how his once-promising career painfully petered out, hearing him blurt out lines like “F**K record sales or who the machine markets best!” can make one feel like he is engaged in bilious bloviating rather than redemptive retribution.
Moreover, these guys are not exactly multi-dimensional emcees. The more reflective moments, such as the divine appeal of “Pray (It’s a Shame)”, the rap-game bemoaning in “Cut You Loose”, and dealing with personal loss and pain in “Rain Drops” are passable. However, “Salute”, featuring Pharoahe Monch and produced by StreetRunner, is surprisingly lukewarm; and the rock-tinged “The One” feels more obligatory to sonic diversity than being purely essential. As for “Cuckoo”, it is a dissonant disaster, a track where the rappers try -- and fail woefully -- at being outrageous over DJ Khalil’s disorganized synth lines. “I don’t need a hook for this one!” is the hook. Yeah, like things couldn’t get any less creative.
Add the perception that some of the production work sounds like some cheap, low-budget soul sample-based beats emanating from the average underground rap album, as well as three unnecessary skits, and Slaughterhouse ultimately comes off more like an inoffensive, safe haven rather than a maniacal den. Okay, fine, so these guys are not exactly A-list rappers, so it’s not like expecting an album of 36 Chambers or even Bow Down proportions is awfully realistic. Plus, the album has more good moments than bad. However, being that these guys were marketed or praised almost like hip-hop’s next big thing, Slaughterhouse should be seen for what it truly is: solid, if not spectacular.
TRACK LISTING:
1. Sound Off 2. Lyrical Murderers 3. Microphone 4. Not Tonight 5. The One 6. In the Mind of Madness (Skit) 7. Cuckoo 8. The Phone Call (Skit) 9. Onslaught 2 10. The Phone Call 2 (Skit) 11. Salute 12. Pray (It’s A Shame) 13. Cut You Loose 14. Rain Drops 15. Killaz
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