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Travie McCoy - Lazarus

Rating

RIYL

Gym Class Heroes
B.o.B
Outkast

Release Date

06/08/2010

Label

Fueled By Ramen

Tracklist

1. Dr. Feel Good (Feat. Cee-Lo Green)
2. Superbad (11:34)
3. Billionaire (Feat. Bruno Mars)
4. Need You
5. Critical (Feat. Tim William)
6. Akidagain
7. We’ll Be Alright
8. The Manual (Feat. T-Pain & Young Cash)
9. After Midnight (It’ll Burn)
10. Don’t Pretend (Feat. Colin Munroe & Travis Barker)

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Recent Ratings
Firebrandead	benny06
Zach Roth

Hip-hop is at present easily the fastest-growing and most rapidly-evolving music genre, and it seems to be surging in two entirely different directions: one toward the heavy use of electronics, synthesized beats and auto-tune; the other stripped-down and organic, heavily rock-influenced, favoring live instrumentation. For every T-Pain or Ke$ha there is an artist like Sage Francis, or bands like The Roots and The Constellations. But do the two directions have to be in opposition? There have been casualties: artists attempting to reunite this great divergence in hip-hop. Remember when Lil’ Wayne released his “rock” album, Rebirth, which was received by a collective chorus of scratching heads and dry heaves? Some musical artists just shouldn’t genre-bend.

However, Travis “Travie” McCoy is not one such artist. As the frontman of Gym Class Heroes, McCoy has been resisting easy classification for years, and his debut solo album Lazarus expertly straddles the predefined line between rock and rap like a 14 year-old Olympian somersaulting on a balance beam. But it really doesn’t matter what genre it falls into; at its best, Lazarus is loud, rowdy and fun.

McCoy could not have picked a better opening track than “Dr. Feel Good.” Featuring a massive and undenaible hook courtesy of the aurally delicious Cee-Lo Green, and a backbeat of bouncy bass, jaunty guitar strums and nimble cymbal-work, it sets an upbeat and energetic tone that lasts through most of the album. By almost direct contrast, the next track, “Superbad (11:34),” features powerful, shrill guitars as McCoy, proving he’s as competent a singer as a rapper, provides soaring, heavily layered vocals—it almost sounds like Kevin Rudolf’s way-overplayed earworm “Let it Rock.”

Reminiscent of Sublime in all the best ways, the lead single “Billionaire” is just one more in a long line of amazing tracks produced by The Smeezingtons (who are behind three tracks on Lazarus), the production duo also responsible for B.o.B’s “Nothin’ on You.” Bruno Mars, one half of The Smeezingtons, also lends his money-printing pipes to “Billionaire.”

“Need You,” “We’ll Be Alright,” and “After Midnight (It’ll Burn)” are masterful, multi-layered pop tracks that don’t just invite sing-alongs and head-bobs; they demand them. At any one time, on top of several layers of effect-laden guitar-work, chunky bass and pounding drums, you’ll hear jingling tambourines, hand claps, and buzzing synths.

“The Manual” and “Akidagain” are closer to Gym Class Heroes songs, sporting great live backbeats and a more traditional rap, chorus, rap s’more song structure. In the latter, when McCoy sings, “Consider this song a throwback,” it rings true in more than one way. But that doesn’t mean the songs aren’t interesting. The cheery piano and children’s chorus in “Akidagain” compliment the down-tempo feel of the track, and the jazzy, samba-twanged “The Manual” boasts a big T-Pain hook that’s surprisingly light on the auto-tune.

The only real misstep on Lazarus is the final track, “Don’t Pretend.” Following nine tracks of pure, unadulterated fun, “Don’t Pretend” doesn’t seem to belong on this album. It arguably sounds the most like vintage Gym Class Heroes, but one of their depressed, plodding tracks. McCoy melodramatically sniffles and snorts throughout the track and sings during the chorus, “Open up my chest and you’ll see a cold cavity / Where my heart used to be. Making amends is out of the question / When you look into his pupils and I’m the reflection,”—just a few degrees of angst away from a Linkin Park song. The ring out is just as painful: “I will bid farewell, Boobie, / Sever the ties and I’mma keep it movin’. *snort* ...Yeah.”

All thinly-veiled songs about Katy Perry aside, Lazarus is a great summer album that defies a clean-cut classification. But when you spin your bass dial to the max, blast the volume and sing your lungs out to the huge choruses and hooks—who cares whether it’s rock or rap? If I were to make a pie-chart to represent Lazarus, there would be two 50 Cent’s-diet-for-his-new-movie-sized slices for “rock” and “rap,” and a Michael Moore-sized slice labeled “fun.”

--Zach Roth