feels he so desperately needs to apologize.
The message is unclear—what begins a hollow deliberation on fame becomes an ambiguous airing out of haters, and it remains unclear for what and to whom T.I. No mistake’s too great to recover and bounce back” Never mind my imperfections this is fact, remember that Same clown that was twit-pickin’ at my wedding Point your finger now with me lookin’ down How dare you sit right there and act as if you holier than thou I gotta say you fuckin’ haters is hilarious I laugh to keep from cryin’ through all of the embarrassment Most of you now sayin’ whatever, here we go againīlogs, radio, and television all goin’ in That it ain’t what it is, than it hits CNNĪpologies to my fans and my closest friends (I’m sorry)įor lettin’ you down, I won’t take you down this road again No running from the truth, as much as we pretend The Chris Brown-aided single “Get Back Up” is far less successful, a sparse, auto-tuned apology avowing, “I’m only human, y’all” and “you go’n miss me when I’m gone”:īack before you, at your mercy on bended knee again Scarface shows up for the clichéd but well-produced “How Life Changed,” a familiar “look how far we’ve come” track laced with a dramatic, big-bass hitter from Lil C. Yeezy handles most of the vocals on a track that could only have been left over from “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy”:įake smiles, broken hearts and if you looking The opener “Welcome to the World” finds Tip trying to keep up with Kanye and Cudi on a track quite in step with both of the latter’s recent albums, marveling at his lavish lifestyle and stardom over a tinny, moody emo-rap track. manages to add little originality or personality to the cookie-cutter templates his all-star collaborators provide. “No Mercy” is such a manipulated, imitative effort that T.I.
His versatility lends comfort rapping over trap-style southern beats and danceable pop grooves alike, and while he does have an identifiable sound he’s proven able to execute crossover hits without sacrificing the charm that made him a star in the first place. T.I.’s stardom is a largely a result of his rare ability to craft anthems, and the sheer swagger and bravado sported on inescapable singles such as “Rubber Band Man,” “Bring ‘Em Out,” “What You Know,” and “Live Your Life” endeared him to his Atlanta brethren and Billboard chart-trollers alike. What “No Mercy” offers instead is a garbled array of collaborations aimed straight for the pop charts. Unfortunately, “No Mercy” contains no meditations on life behind bars, and glimpses at the no-doubt conflicted character who went from one of the year’s most successful movies to Arkansas’ state pen in a matter of weeks are few and fleeting. Equally compelling, the soul-searching and contemplation produced by artists and stars’ subjection to the abode of the common criminal can make for unusually poignant and personal material. And why not? Such rap sheets imply that these showmen are the rarest of entertainers who live the lives portrayed in their art and are inspired by real-life events in a genre still so contingent upon representing the real. Examples from years past are similarly abundant—Sadat X’s gloomy, jail-bound narratives of “Black October” and X-Raided’s albums infamously recorded entirely over the prison phone are further cases of rap listeners’ obsession with the criminal. Hip hop’s fascination with embattled, embroiled, and incarcerated figures is no secret, and this year alone yields multiple examples—fans have mourned Lil Wayne’s jailing and celebrated his release, watched DMX’s various run-ins with the law like a train wreck, and heard speculation that Lil Boosie may be the next member of Louisiana’s death row. Not to be outdone or overshadowed, “No Mercy” enlists the talents of literally dozens of hip hop and R&B’s respective A-lists, attempting to build upon the double-platinum crossover success of 2008’s “Paper Trail.” Harris’ legal troubles have kept him in the news, but his seventh album “No Mercy” arrives in a typically busy fourth quarter sandwiched between most of 2010’s biggest rap releases including records by Kanye West, Kid Cudi, Nelly, Lloyd Banks, Nicki Minaj, and Ghostface Killah. T.I.P., comin’ live from the V.I.P.? Well, not quite—this time around T.I.P.’s comin’ live from the penitentiary, a fact lost only on his most inattentive of listeners.