Nelly
Sweat
(Fo Reel/Universal)
Nelly is all things to all people — there are no multiplatinum weirdoes — and
therein lies his charm. Beloved by all races, the photogenic St. Louis rapper
is blasted from suburban softball fields and ghetto stoops alike. Strippers
grind to him; preteens load him on their iPods; politicians praise him for his
philanthropy. Viva the cuddlethug, Stepford wife to the world.
After selling more than 15 million copies of his first two records and surpassing
his projected expiration date by several rap lifetimes, Nelly may believe he’s
invincible. How else to explain why he would release his third and fourth albums
at the same time — not as a specially priced double album, Ã la OutKast, but
as two separate, full-priced CDs, Ã la Bruce Springsteen and Guns N’ Roses?
No mainstream hip-hop artist has dared (or bothered) to do something so ambitious
(or stupid), and, given the ratio of filler to singles on most single-disc major-label
releases, forcing fans to pay twice as much for a handful of good songs seems
a bit tacky. The justification (read: marketing strategy) is that Sweat
and Suit are two separate concepts, revealing two distinct sides of Nelly
and appealing to two distinct demographics. Sweat is for the ballers
and the kids; Suit is for the ladies and the over-25 set. Sweat
is Nelly Classic; Suit is the “mature” Nelly, who is, after all, pushing
30 and practically an elder statesman by now.
Nelly
Suit
(Fo Reel/Universal)
Of the two discs, Suit is marginally more interesting, if only because
— thank heavens for ProTools! — Nelly transforms himself from a rapper with
a singsong flow to a singer with a jones to rap now and again. Of course, anyone
who’s heard “Pimp Juice” (the Nellyville single, not the soft drink)
won’t be terribly surprised, although there’s nothing on Suit quite so
sexy and sinister-sounding. “Play It Off,” the Neptunes’ joint, is pleasant
enough, but it’s no “Hot in Herre”; “Pretty Toes,” a collabo with Jazze Pha
and Organized Noize, is perhaps the best mainstream foot-fetish tune of the
21st century, which, when you stop to think about it, isn’t saying much. With
its almost-but-not-quite-disturbing spoken-word intro, “Woodgrain and Leather
wit a Hole” strives for Eminem-like edginess but devolves into yet another “look
at my sweet ride” boastfest. “In My Life” shows Nelly trying to channel Marvin
Gaye circa “What’s Going On,” but a few lines about being nice to homeless people
does not a socially conscious anthem make. On “Die for You,” Nelly reveals that
— gasp! — he really loves his kids, and he worries about them and stuff when
he’s on the road. And if there’s anything lamer than sampling Spandau Ballet
(“N Dey Say”), it’s singing with Tim McGraw (“Over and Over”), and if you can
think of anything lamer than that, for the love of God, keep it to yourself
and away from Nelly’s next record.
Of course, Sweat isn’t much better. Perhaps there is something
lamer than Tim McGraw, and that’s John Tesh, whose “NBA on NBC” theme undergirds
the ludicrously self-important “Heart of a Champion.” The Neptunes’ “Flap Your
Wings,” the Jazze Pha romp “Na-Nana-Na,” and the Christina Aguilera duet “Tilt
Ya Head Back” are engaging and silly, a reminder that Nelly, at his best, is
gloriously dumb, dumb like Missy Elliott and the Ramones and the Rolling Stones
and legions of other idiot geniuses who have graced popular culture over the
decades. But the best dumb songs on Sweat don’t compare with the best
dumb songs from the back catalog, and a string of hotshot guest producers can’t
gloss over a dearth of inspiration and a surplus of chutzpah. The world already
loves you, Nelly; stop pimping yourself so much.
This article appears in Sep 30 – Oct 6, 2004.
