The Mr. Smith album cycle established LL Cool J as the only rapper still commercially viable and culturally relevant a decade into his career. That decade was summed up by a greatest-hits collection, entitled All World: The Greatest Hits, released on November 5, 1996, a first for a high-profile rap act. LL was truly confirmed as a rare bastion of hip hop longevity.
However, the success and milestones came at a critical price, thus making Mr. Smith a bittersweet landmark and a turning point in LL’s career. With the murders of 2Pac and The Notorious B.I.G. in September 1996 and March 1997, respectively, people were weary of hip hop’s most violent and aggressive strain. And Bad Boy Records leader Puff Daddy, who had suffered the loss of his most prized signee, was more than willing to provide relief. Both LL and Puffy were aligned in their preference for slickly produced sample-heavy rap music. So, it was only natural that LL enlisted Puffy’s services as executive producer for his upcoming seventh album, Phenomenon, and have the TrackMasters back after the success of Mr. Smith. Hey, don’t tinker with the formula, right?
Released on October 14th, 1997, Phenomenon should have been named Coastin’, because that’s precisely what LL Cool J does here: coast. The twenty-nine year-old, now a rap veteran, was possibly beginning to show his age. No longer rocking the mic with the ferocity and exuberance of his youth, no longer fighting with his back against the wall for a comeback, no longer battling other rappers on wax, he sounds pretty relaxed, mostly content with delivering flaccid raps over pop-primed beats courtesy of people like TrackMasters, L.E.S., and Puff Daddy—actually, rather, The Hitmen.
And that’s why “4, 3, 2, 1” is one of the best songs in here, easily. Erick Sermon provides the simple drums and bass accented with sporadic piano notes and rattles to lay bare the battle lyrics of LL, Method Man, Redman, Canibus, and DMX in their brutal glory. But for the first time, LL sounds like an old man next to these young whippersnappers. And that’s especially true for Canibus, who easily outshines everybody with his lines like “Zero to sixty? I’m already doing a hundred when I’m blunted, and I give it to any n***a that want it!”
No wonder Uncle L felt threatened by the young wiry upstart. In fact, his entire verse was a clear response to ‘Bis, who had dared rhyme about borrowing the mic tattooed on LL’s arm. And that started a whole lyrical war between the two. But even with his verse, LL is all yells without the technical verve, his congested lines spilling off-beat occasionally over the sparse production. When he finally ends it with saying, “LL Cool J, n***a, greatest of all time!,” he doesn’t sound entirely convincing. And this is the same guy who shut it down in the posse cut “I Shot Ya” only a few years earlier?
Not to worry too much, though. Apart from “4, 3, 2, 1,” there’s some good music here. “Candy” has LL narrating a touching love story while backed by this tranquil string-driven beat and Ricky Bell and Mr. Sensitivity himself (Ralph Tresvant) interpolate the chorus of their New Edition hit “Candy Girl” in portions of the hook. In “Father,” which takes its airy sample from George Michael’s “Father Figure,” LL decries the fact that he really didn’t have a father figure to look up to, being that his real father—in a fit of rage—almost sent his mother and his paternal grandfather to the afterlife; and his stepdad beat him regularly. Todd had it hard. “I ain’t mad at you, dad.”
But Phenomenon is generally a blase affair. Sure, most of the beats were designed to get people dancing or at least nodding their heads, like the frenzy of “Nobody Can Freak You” and the wah-wah guitar-helmed title track. But for the most part, there’s nothing that makes a lasting impression.
The whispered vocals that worked in “I’m That Type of Guy” doesn’t in the title track, with the occasional lap of the vocals and the nonsensical lyrics. “Starksy and Hutch” and “Another Dollar” just sound like standard brag rap, with not one line or couplet that sticks out. (At least Busta Rhymes’ unfailing energy is worth the price of recommendation in the former.) LeShaun tries to re-create that “Doin’ It” magic with LL in the Keith Sweat-assisted “Nobody Can Freak You,” but the fast-paced beat snuffs out a lot of power out of the seductive lyrics. “Hot, Hot, Hot” could have turned out better with the new wave influence of the Tom Tom Club. But LL fails to pull the listener into his tale about an opportunistic girl with anything profound. The collaboration with Lost Boyz in “Wanna Get Paid” is surprisingly vapid. And the album closer, the Tamia-featured, seven-minute epic “Don’t Be Late, Don’t Come Too Soon” fails to rise to the occasion with its uninteresting lyrics of love and its slow, droning pace.
As an album with 10 tracks and a 44-minute running time, at least Phenomenon is mercifully short. This is LL in cruise control, letting the production do most of the work. And you can hardly fault him. The checks from his sitcom, movies, and a memoir entitled I Make My Own Rules, to which the album was tied as a soundtrack, must have been cushy. And there was that GAP commercial. Or was it FUBU? That’s another story.
But when an aging, fattened, and comfortable emcee issues an album as borderline satisfactory and uninspired as Phenomenon, and he steps on a few toes, it shouldn’t be a surprise when a much younger and hungrier wordsmith reminds him that rap, at its very core, can be a bloodsport.
Mad at me ‘cause I kick that s**t real n****s feel
While 99 percent of your fans wear high heels!
