Trumbull Island

I confess that I didn’t become properly acquainted with Gucci Mane until early 2006. I was at the mall, buying work clothes, and during a quick detour to HMV I happened upon the Trap House CD. I further confess that at the time I took little more than momentary interest in what I saw. I did recognize Mane’s gold frames and Andruw Jones jersey from the previous year’s “Icey” video — which I had only half seen only one time, at a friend’s house in Massachusetts (he had MTV Jams; Canada, you understand, has former-East-Bloc-grade rap radio and music-video stations), and which I, along with many others, had blithely assumed was a Jeezy track — and I do remember thinking to myself that Gucci Mane was the best of all possible names for a Southern rapper (probably for any rapper, period). But as for the CD itself, well, the iconography, the song titles, the vibe of the thing seemed to be of a moment that was either passing or already in the past. I remember feeling a vague and fleeting pang of pity for him: “His name is pitch-perfect and he looks totally cool on the cover of his album, but by next year he’ll be as well-remembered as Mystikal.” People remember Mystikal, of course, but mainly in terms of squandered momentum and unrealized potential.

It bears pointing out that I was thinking these thoughts in the immediate aftermath of 2005 – the year of “Mic Check,” of “Draped Up,” of “And Then What“; the year of “Fireman” and Wayne’s verse in Paul Wall’s “March & Step,” of We Got it For Cheap Vol. 2, and of, it has to be said, Late Registration; the year of “Stay Fly” and of good old Pitchfork bending the rules such that December 2004’s Purple Haze could occupy #9 on their year-end top 50. My personal 2005 ended at a New Year’s Eve house party in Toronto at which not one but two of the male guests were clad in Juicy J’s green-ghoul all-over-print T-shirt. It had been a monumental year for a type of rap that hadn’t yet been condescendingly saddled with the putatively affectionate but actually dismissive label of “ignorant.” But from where I stood, on that February morning in that record store, mere weeks before Three 6’s spot-blowing, era-ending Oscar win, I believed, in the sweeping, self-satisfied manner of a dilettante attempting to stake an intellectual claim on something he’s only recently discovered and thus doesn’t understand,¹ that a critical backlash against materialistic bounce music was imminent (it was) and that, ipso facto, I was taking my first and last look at an also-ran, a bit player, a never-was (I was not).

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Patience is a virtue rarely rewarded. Instant fixes and satisfactions come and go. But we’ve been patient with Gucci since the beginning. “So Icey” was the first video I saw when I got off the plane and arrived in the United States for good. His songs would come in and out over the years, improving and fading away. Time passed, and all of a sudden, Gucci came back, and then left again and then came back. But his stream of mixtapes, guest appearances and videos this year was sumptuous, hinting at — indeed, showing — an absolutely ridiculous world of constant fun. It’s been five long years, but The State vs. Radric Davis, Gucci’s proper studio album, dropped Tuesday. Gucci Week is here. There is too much happening on this record to leave it to one reviewer, so we’ve enlisted several. Take it away AJ.

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Gucci Mane La Flare was released from his most recent prison stint sometime in Spring 2009, and from that point on just owned the rest of the year.

Writing On The Wall, Gangsta Grillz: The Movie Part 2 (and then Part 3), guest verses on Mario’s “Break Up,” Mariah Carey’s “Obsessed,” Cold War mixtapes (three of them), and Black Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow.” Gucci was now signed to a major label (Warner Brothers) and finally, last week, we were blessed with a major label record that had the money invested in it that you would expect from a major label. Polow Da Don (probably not cheap, post-Fergie), Usher (never cheap), Keyshia Cole (I guess that hit with Diddy was a minute ago now?), Lil Wayne, Bun-B.

This is the treatment I hoped Boosie was gonna get this year on SuperBad, but didn’t.

Honestly, the record is about 100% of what you would expect with this much money behind it. Some of what makes Gucci so great has gotten lost a little, but many dudes who aren’t able to wade through D.J. drops and “pass the Grey Poupon” skits will be able to finally get on board.

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D.C.’s Wale has been poised to be the next big thing for a while. From XXL Mag’s stamp of approval very early in his career,¹ to the “W.A.L.E.D.A.N.C.E.” single that displayed his party-rockin’ abilities, to the brilliant [The] Mixtape About Nothing, which introduced listeners to Wale’s theme of tackling racism in contemporary America, and juxtaposed Michael Richards’ infamous tirade against the “Seinfeld” theme.

At the moment, Wale is touring with Jay-Z. Before that, Wale played bandleader at the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards, and has recently released his highly anticipated debut studio album, Attention Deficit. The album doesn’t follow the usual criteria of major rap debuts, but it does suffer from some of the usual pitfalls.

Wale has enlisted some atypical producers for a rap record, UK producer Mark Ronson, relative unknowns Best Kept Secret, and TV On The Radio’s Dave Sitek (who puts forth some of the album’s best sounds). The record also features some usual suspects like The Neptunes and DJ Green Lantern. Guest spots include everyone’s guilty pleasure Lady Gaga, as well as Bun B., and house favorite Gucci Mane.

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