In attempting to be a good critic, many of us journalists try to follow the advice of Lester Bangs in 2000's "Almost Famous" and try to be "honest and unmerciful." However, every once in a while, an album comes along that you just want to give so many stars to that the whole world will listen. The new Roots album, "Game Theory," is a prime example.
Those familiar with the long career of The Roots will know that MC Black Thought has graced every single album with a unique, inspired brilliance in his lyrics. The element that began with the high-profile "Phrenology" (2002), was reaffirmed in "The Tipping Point" (2004), and perfected now in "Game Theory" is accessibility.
In other words, anyone who appreciates any aspect of hip-hop, no matter how superficial many people's perceptions are, will appreciate the beginning of this album. Listeners can blasphemously ignore every single word and groove to the beat and love it or combine the two elements and be struck by the layers of musical brilliance.
Perhaps due to the inevitable mainstream attention, the first full song, "False Media" lets the listener know the group's simplified musical philosophy before they are allowed to venture further into the future hit songs. Full of social responsibility, the group simply will not let anyone listen to their music without learning something.
Black Thought makes it clear that "(he) don't rhyme for the sake of riddlin'," in contrast to the song's namesake, which is so prevalent that there is no need to list all the falseness. True, The Roots are part of the mainstream media machine, but the distinction between their music and the guilty pleasures you heard at a party last weekend are rather clear.
As the title track, the next song is lyrically important: "Game Theory." Does it contain a revolutionary theory about who got game in the music industry? Does it involve upper-level economics? The answers to these questions are impossible to answer without listening to the song a hundred times.
After the fitting intro ripped from Sly and the Family Stone, be prepared to be blown away by a sudden blast in the form of a beat and background music that create the flow the group has been working towards for years. In terms of game, the song speaks for itself, with or without words.
The upbeat groove continues in "Don't Feel Right," but, with a more soothing sound and a clearly separate, simple chorus, the main lyrics shine again. Returning to his critique of new media, Black Thought reiterates that "When I write my thoughts out/ Really I'm boxin'/ My main adversary any silly concoction."
The impact of these words should not be underestimated. He has just taken the macho cockiness that has become so popular in hip-hop through "false" artists like Ludacris and said something that is neither dumbed-down nor expressive of negative black stereotypes. He has lifted up what continues to make hip-hop great and left behind any hint of falseness all in one simple rhyme. Though the message is nothing new for The Roots, it has never before made you want to shake it with such fervor.
The album then progresses to slower, more old-school, yet equally brilliant, grooves, but just when you thought the excitement was over, ?uestlove blasts a drum fill on "Here I Come." Set to the most upbeat tempo of all, the song ends up feeling much like a break dance beat reminiscent of "Boom!" from "The Tipping Point." Exchanging lyrics with Dice Raw and Malik B., Black Thought writes, "I'm pennin' the words that move millions/ Slide right in front of your eyes true brilliance."
Once again, in a rap game where your value is measured in machismo and bling, Black Thought starts the race, sets the goal as lyrical brilliance and declares himself the winner. Such an action is hardly arrogance coming from the leader of a group that has popularized their hard-to-define style of hip-hop.
The final track, "Can't Stop This," gives the newly inspired young listener a farewell message unrivaled by any previous attempt. It is hard to pick out the best of a great, eight-minute-long song, but the following excerpt sums it up: "Just picture the planet and imagine it's yours, kid/ Don't ever let nobody knock you out of your orbit/ I never seen a bridge we couldn't shuffle across it/ Got a lotta people livin' a life that's pure trivia/ Real hip-hop are they tryin' a get rid a ya?"
In this way, "Game Theory" tackles a tough, often depressing subject, but manages to tell a cohesive story that demonstrates soul alongside pop sensibility and leaves the listener with a hopeful message in the end. So forget the iPod "Shuffle" button and make sure to listen to the album from start to finish (after putting "Game Theory" on repeat a few times, of course), so that the entire story comes across.
