October 04, 2006 @ 5:22 pm

Clipse - Hell Hath No Fury (Re-Up/Jive)

by: Jon Caramanica

They’re drug-rap auteurs, making do in the spiral of melancholy that is the corner: “Through despair I traipse,” Pusha raps on “Ain’t Cha.” “Baking pies, making cake / Hustling them Es and that C and that H.” Over the last few years, the Virginia brothers have been kiln-fired into profound formalists and profound moralists, clinging to order in the face of chaos. Hell Hath No Fury, their second album, is almost pitch-black in tone and rigorous in its commitment to storytelling and skill. Waylaid for months, if not years, by label shenanigans, it’s the sound of drowning men finally breathing for air. right “Been two years like I was paddy wagon cruising,” Pusha sneers on the lead single “Mr. Me Too.” “Streets was yours, you dunce-cappin’ and kazoo-in’ / I was just assuming you’d keep the coke moving / But I got one question: Fuck y’all been doin’?” Like the Notorious B.I.G.’s Life After Death (Bad Boy, 1997) or Jay-Z’s In My Lifetime, Vol. 1 (Roc-A-Fella, 1997), Hell is a post-hustling opus, a document of new affluence as recorded by artists straddling pre- and post-block psychologies. Each of the brothers has their own coping mechanism—Pusha, one of rap’s premier lyricists, is wry and flamboyant; Malice, with an ear for the tragic, is heartfelt and economical. Together, they paint devastating emotional portraits, and they sidestep tedium by remaining rap’s most lyrically inventive group. On “What It Do (Wamp Wamp),” Malice faces his demons: “I get paper, it seems I get foolish / Take it to Jacob and play which-hue’s-the-bluest?” Pusha, on “Dirty Money,” revels in the absurdity of wealth: “3-D faces on them crisp new billys / Got Benji looking all googly-eyed and silly.” There’s not room in the Clipse’s worldview for much besides the trappings of the trap. Even “Dirty Money,” their flirt song, is a drug paean masquerading as a come-on: “As long as I’m nice with the flame and the flask / I don’t mind keeping you up on the must-haves,” Pusha says with a wink, while Malice resigns himself to a life of loneliness: “You can tell me ’bout your day, I’ll pretend I listen / And you ain’t gotta love me, just be convincing.” A cloud of disappointment hangs over Hell—Pusha and Malice might have sold hundreds of thousands of records, but they’re not stars. And so they’re best when they’re embittered: “Nightmares” is a tribute to the Geto Boys’ 1991 “Mind Playing Tricks on Me,” with echoes of Biggie’s nihilistic 1994 “Suicidal Thoughts” (“Check up on my block weekly, my health yearly,” Pusha gripes.) And opening with twenty uninterrupted seconds of gunfire, “Chinese New Year” is one of the most gloriously malevolent rap songs in recent memory. Sadism suits them well. Working with the Clipse, street rappers with high-art tastes, is like a fantasy playland for the Neptunes, who produced Hell in its entirety. Much like the otherworldly “Grindin’,” from Clipse’s 2002 debut Lord Willin’ (Star Trak/Arista), the best songs here are more experiments than beats. “Trill” sounds like a club record that David Bowie might have written. “Mama I’m So Sorry” is accordion-esque, and “Ain’t Cha,” with its juggle of drums and bells, sounds like a post-soca carnival. That the Clipse navigate these styles so deftly is a credit to their hunger and their pride—they refuse to be outdone. During the duo’s dry period, when it wasn’t clear when—or if—this record would see the light of day, the group recorded a pair of critically hailed mixtapes, We Got It 4 Cheap Vol. 1 & 2 (2005), snarling affairs full of savage lyricism and earned resentment. Do you want VIBE delivered to your home or office? CLICK HERE.

Article tags: Clipse, David Bowie, Geto Boys, Jay-Z, Mr. Me Too, Notorious B.I.G., Pharrell Williams, The N.E.R.D. 

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