LAX doesn't effectively showcase The Game
Published Sept. 8, 2008
The Game's third album, LAX, is defined by contradictions. Still, largely through the simple formula of almost exclusively rapping about Compton other rappers and sex, The Game manages to salvage a seemingly cohesive album. But ultimately LAX falls short of being truly noteworthy by refusing to move out of the living room of his comfort zone and lacking the power-punch of his past singles. If The Game is anything, he's a singles rapper. "How We Do" asserted Game as a rapper that knew his strengths. Next, the perpetually underrated Barrington Levy assisted "One Blood," and the hilarious Kanye-fueled "Wouldn't Get Far" continued this trend. But somehow, the singles on LAX's featured tracks don't showcase this Game staple. LAX's first single, "Game's Pain," effectively showcases why it's fun to root for The Game. This track is passionate and shows how deeply indebted The Game is to every rapper that came before him to an almost fanboy level, and while it can be overbearing, is usually pretty charming. It makes him feel like the Mark Wahlberg character in "Invincible," the huge fan who gets a shot at a roster spot for his dream team. Why wouldn't we want to root for that guy? But the chorus from the usually on-point Keysha Cole is one of the most painfully elongated hooks in hip-hop history. I never thought my attention span would be too short for a Game chorus, but somewhere in there I need a nap. The follow-up, "Dope Boys," suffers from the exact opposite. Travis Barker's drum riffs play off the beat really well, but The Game's chorus begs for more, spouting off the generic "The dope boys in the building tonight/What up?" The thing still sounds cool as hell to drive down the street to, but it's like a half step away from being an all-out banger and it just blatantly falls short from the lack of a hook. On "My Life," Game becomes the newest proponent of the Weezy autotuned chorus era. In this case, it gels exceptionally well with the sentiment of this song to provide a fitting backdrop. At his most self-deprecating, Game can give Atmosphere a run for his money in terms of emotionality (sidenote: In his "dope boys" verse, Game says he's "sick of blow jobs/bitch leave me alone" - man, that's some emo shit). And Wayne's half-autotuned frantic chorus really captures the height of the schizophrenic about-to-go-out-of-his-goddamn-mind Wayne that juxtaposes well with the harsh realities of the daily urban grind riff Game goes off on. The Game also seems to be a bit scared to be on his own. It's possible that since he left 50 and Dre, he's still looking for help finding his own identity. This style and theme-hopping based on guests defines the rest of the album. But maybe the man who once said he needed to "call Lloyd Banks to get this motherfucker crunk" doesn't believe he can do it by himself. Have you listened to Terminate On Sight? Banks could barely get a 7-11 breakroom crunk these days. There are moments on this album where you simply wish Game would take control and mark the territory as his own. Luckily, his voice and growl alone have the audacity to take control of the variety of tracks, creating a definitive, albeit haphazard, stamp on the album, even when it fluctuates between old school West Coast Ice Cube style to late-90's East Coast flow with Raekwon to new school autotuned Weezy in the matter of three tracks.