Lil Wayne - I Am Not a Human Being (2010)

 Review: Lil Wayne - I Am Not a Human Being (2010, Young Money/Cash Money/Universal Motown)

Gucci Mane's recent explosiveness has been cited by Tom Breihan as an "interesting challenge" to Lil Wayne's otherworldly craft, the Atlanta rapper's beats casually strewn about Weezy's going-away mixtape extravaganza No Ceilings. The effort provided a necessary alternative to Wayne's electro-rock-trainwreck-hybrid-disaster Rebirth and featured the Cash Money CEO in his healthiest form since Da Drought 3. But where Wayne makes mixtapes, Gucci makes songs; Wayne jacks a beat, Gucci gets his own. Wayne's got quotables out the ass, but he can't write a hook to save his life, whereas Gucci's hooks consistently prove as catchy and inescapable as they do energized and enormous. As a result, Breihan points out, "the Gucci songs are the rare mixtape tracks where Wayne can't erase the memory of the originals." Add to that record label collabo We Are Young Money, featuring seemingly endless cameos by Wayne's childhood friends and assorted hacks employing the same cut-cut skip-skip rap style their collective mentor perfected on No Ceilings (but in a much less inspired way), and you have the beginnings of a dwindling star. It's telling enough the album's best track featured exclusively Wayne and Gucci going ape over a cheap, springy Kane beat. Despite Weezy's many claims to immortality, he's also admitted numerous times his fear of crashing and burning, both on mixtapes and officials. Except now it's actually believable.

Out of all this context beams I Am Not a Human Being, a while-in-jail release that probably should have remained an EP, as was planned before Baby presumably detected the payroll potential in a full-length promotion plan. The most unbelievable thing about the LP: it's not better than We Are Young Money. Wayne sounds tired and spent, rapping boring, recycled material in the same style he has been for 3 straight releases, and over maddeningly uninspired beats. Then his labelmates are everywhere, none of them welcome besides Drake and Nicki, and about halfway through the release it becomes painfully clear what's going on: Wayne's impressed. The technical beats, the awful friend guest spots, the toned-down free-association, the emphasis on likely scripted punch lines - Gucci's admittedly misguided influence courses through the LP's veins like battery fluid. They say if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. But if he reverts back to, say, Dedication 2 mode, Wayne won't have to. At last released from Riker's Island, he'd better realize it; after all, the south's finally given Tune the worthy opponent he's been yearning after.

Bump this: Gonorrhea, Hold Up, With You