Lloyd Banks
“Rotten Apple”
G UNIT/INTERCOPE RECORDS
Usually, when a friend or acquaintance does something offensive, there are a few ways of evaluating exactly how wronged you feel you’ve been.
On one hand, there’s the act itself, but on the other hand, there is the friend’s intention.
Offensive acts are doubtless bad, but when your friend doesn’t even try to hide it, or is shamelessly offensive without an excuse, the lack of common courtesy makes the situation endlessly worse.
Well, Lloyd Banks is either a bad friend, or he just doesn’t respect us very much.
With his newest release, “Rotten Apple,” it truly sounds like he and his gang of veteran pop-rap stars and producers aren’t even trying.
One of them, it seems, discovered the formula for hit rap nonsense, and they’re going to keep milking it until the rest of us wake up.
The formula goes something like this: Take a few basic concepts – alcohol, women, money, violence, marijuana and the flaunting of wealth.
Next, come up with a few street-sounding synonyms for each of these things, as monosyllabic as possible, to facilitate stress-free rhyme composition.
Then, make a few sentences that end with one of these words or concepts, without any real regard to deeper connections between them, and, lastly, arrange these sentences into groups of four.
On “Rotten Apple,” Banks returns in top form to exploit the full potential of this formula, weaving tales of misogyny; homicide; pretty, shiny things; and of course his true home, the street (not the Escalade).
Despite a variety of producers, including Eminem and 9th Wonder, and guest spots from (among others) Rakim, Mobb Deep and Bank’s G Unit leader, 50 Cent, the album often sounds like a broken record.
Fortunately, Banks has brought in Musiq Soulchild to explain to us, on “Addicted,” why he’s so stuck in the formula.
It’s not because he’s not trying – it’s because this music makes him feel right at home.
“I think I’ve got a habit / and it keeps pulling me in like a magnet / going with this kind of music puts me right back on the block / it’s like crack to an addict,” sings Soulchild, allowing all of us to understand Banks’ refusal to conquer new territory.
All this leaves us wondering if Banks is the only one confused.
On “Playboy,” he sings, “Mommy, I don’t dance, I rock, I bop/ thousand dollars’ worth of sticky in my sock, I’m hot / if I like it, Im’a cop it on the spot, why not? / These haters still wont give me my props, I’m shocked.”
He should be shocked that people were listening in the first place.
E-mail LaRue at alarue@media.ucla.edu.