In 2000, producer DJ Hi-Tek and rapper Talib Kweli released their first record, Train of Thought, to a large amount of universal acclaim that almost rivaled the applause received by Kweli's work with Mos Def (as the group Black Star). The album was indeed a masterpiece--Hi-Tek's lush, soulful sound and Talib's intricate rhyme schemes meshed well, and the two of them complemented each other almost pefectly. One of the album's singles, "The Blast," ended up reaching #2 on Billboard's Hot Rap Singles chart, and the modest commercial success that the album received was still a large victory for a group that did not have the million-dollar promotion that was showered upon some of their more recognized peers.
Now, ten years later, Kweli and Tek reunite. The result: Revolutions Per Minute.
Its release follows the immense spike in popularity that both of its members have seen since their first album together, and while Tek's production value has skyrocketed, Talib's content remains relatively stagnant--he is the same Kweli we were introduced to on the first Black Star record; the same Kweli who was able to make "Get By" one of the lone, uncompromising hit records of the 2000s; and the same Kweli whose stabs at the mainstream since have been relatively by-the-numbers (see: "Hot Thing"). The trend continues here on "Midnight Hour," where Hi-Tek attempts to play the Mark Ronson to Estelle's Amy Winehouse--which means that, essentially, Talib has no place on the record. Retread lyrics such as "No I don't make it rain, but still I'm the one that got her wet" makes you forget the dude who talked about people getting "capped like an NBA salary" 11 years ago.
While one can't expect Talib to continue trying to recapture those glory days, at least MINIMAL growth is expected, and some of it does appear here: "The Ballad of the Black Gold" is a thoughtful take on oil, and very timely in the wake of the BP scandal; "Strangers (Paranoid)" is a brilliant mesh of regional sound, as Talib trades verses with Dirty South godfather Bun B over an eerie yet trunk-rattling backdrop; and "City Playgrounds" has a very laidback, relaxing feel to it, even with one of Kweli's many unimaginative punchlines ("Time gets suspended more than DMX driver's license") thrown in for good measure.
But the true gem of this album is "Just Begun," a collaboration between celebrated lyricists who have all peaked in different eras, with Mos and Talib finding their late '90s chemistry to blend wonderfully over Tek's electric keys and trombone alongside Jay Electronica and J. Cole, two of Hip-Hop's most recent critical darlings. It's also Kweli's best display on the album:
"Back Again" is wonderful, as well, with Res's hook and Tek's wistful beat coming together perfectly. These are, however, highlights of a GROUP record, and while Hi-Tek's production are worth the price of admission alone, Talib's inconsistency impedes the listening experience instead of enhancing it. It's either a case of rushing the work or laziness. In either case, Kweli needs to decide whether he wants to grow and continue to nourish the talent and potential that he's always had for the past 11 years, or whether he wants to remain frozen in time, a shadow of his former self, only perking up in scant bright spots whenever he decides to.
-Adam M. Levin
