Fresh Detective

Theophilus London charmed me with his “This Charming Mixtape” all the way back in January, so why it has taken me this long to convey his freshness with written word is hard to say. I do know that I’m not going to be charged with missing the boat on this rapper/singer/fashion icon (“Dog I dress your stylist”) in the making. Mr. London is the reason I got into fresh detective work in the first place, so it only makes sense to return from my extended blogging vacation with enormous praise for him.

“This Charming Mixtape” hardly is original material in that, in the true spirit of mixtape culture, it’s a reworking of various songs. Lauryn Hill, Whitney Houston, Kraftwerk and even Amadou & Mariam’s “Sabali” (Do yourself a favor and check out the original song) are rapped, sung and breathed heavily over by London. The effect, however, is an eclectic sampler that successfully portrays London’s unusual hip-hop style. And it’s so so so bangin’.

Skeptics would be smart to take note of “Crazy Cousins,” “Always Love You,” “Grey X Sage” and really, the whole first half of the album. The second half slows down considerably (save “Take My Eyes Off of You,” a surprisingly non-offputting remix of Lauryn Hill’s classic), while still remaining solid. You’d be right to sense some hipster vibes, but London isn’t simply a phenomenon built on a gimmick. He’s a pastiche of a ton of crap, but he’s also a clever rapper and, as I have YouTubed and heard, quite a performer. Both the hipster and hip-hop head circles (but NOT XXL) are intoxicated with him, so he’s certainly someone worth keeping in your radar.

London released “This Charming Man” in April, and it’s just as substantial as his mixtape. He might not have grown since January, but if we’re charging rappers with a lack of development between mixtapes, someone better arrest Gucci Mane ASAP. Anyway, last week or so I came across his latest track, “Pull My Heart Away (rmx),” from what I would assume is a new project. It’s good. The beat is off-kilter and satisfying, and when London prefaces his entrance with his unmistakable grunt, you can’t help but smile. Get it “here”:http://2dopeboyz.okayplayer.com/2009/10/17/theophilus-london-–-pull-my-heart-away-rmx/.

Theophilus London is like a grown-up version of The Cool Kids, a less vulgar version of Spank Rock or maybe what Drake would sound like after taking acid continuously for five years. So, he’s about as unique as a self-aware Brooklyn artist can be these days. This doesn’t mean my adoration for London is mashup lust, which always is easy to fall into. He’s dope and hip, but he’s not dope because he’s hip. It’s not completely pointless to argue his musical relevance in relation to his counterculture fixation, but I don’t feel like doing it. What it comes down to for me is: London might seem crazy for rapping nonsense over techno beats and wearing lots of leather, but in 2009 I think that only makes you fresher.

There will be a brief freshness hiatus this week, but it’s only because I feel the need to explain myself about last week’s post on J. Cole. I didn’t write the blog to stir up controversy, and I certainly didn’t write the blog thinking I would offend anyone. I don’t think it was inappropriate for me to compare the two artists in the manner I did, but I’m not going to put up a defensive wall of pride where I don’t admit that I regret my post. I regret it not because it was wrong, but because my choice of words overshadowed what I think was a deft overview of an up-and-coming artist I admire. And because it is never my objective to put people off or cause them to think I’m prejudicial.

But, as per the request of some, I will explain why I decided to include “light-skinned black dude” in my description of J. Cole. Before writing my blog post, I did research. I read interviews with both rappers, I read reviews of their mixtapes and I listened to their music in depth. In almost every comprehensive survey of the two rappers’ similarities, the parallels of their physical appearance were mentioned. That meant using words such as “light skin.” So I guess if I’m to be rejected for anything, I would rather it be for triteness than racism.

Here’s a J. Cole interview with HipHopDX. He mentions both his and Drake’s light skin.

Here’s a blog that takes the same approach as mine in its lede: http://www.honeymag.com/message/story/view.castle?g=842523&m=6563634.
“He’s standing in the middle of a zip tight studio. Tall. Yellow skin brushed with the heat of a tan. Black Nike shirt up top. Dark sea denim below. He spits a swift line. Everyone stares. The young man is handsome and then some. But his name’s not Aubrey Graham.”

J. Cole and Drake both mention their skin color in their songs. Jay-Z mentions Eminem’s white skin in a song or two of his. If the two rappers both had huge ears, I would have drawn that comparison. The fact is, the two guys rap in a similar way, rap about similar things, are a similar age and look similar. Looking similar isn’t something that should be focused on, as it has nothing to do with the way someone raps, but it’s a feature that can be mentioned if relevant. Mentioning Tina Turner’s huge hair has nothing to do with how well she sings, but you’ve seen that hair! Can physical features never be mentioned? Fat Joe and Big Pun. Both fat.

In this case, J. Cole and Drake are rappers becoming prominent at the same time, and they have a number of liknesses. It doesn’t matter that they both have light skin. They just do.

His flow is smooth, his wordplay is clever and his production is impressive. He’s a young, light-skinned black dude and he’s just signed to the label of a major rapper. But he’s not Drake. And it’s not Young Money. He’s Jermaine Cole, also known as J. Cole, and he’s the first rapper on the new label founded by — wait for it — Jay-Z.

Hardly a Drizzy imitation, J. Cole is from North Carolina, graduated from St. John’s University in New York City and never has been on a soap opera. But the comparisons are warranted; the two sound similar and the content is closely related. However, J. Cole’s grittier and a little more humble. And his lyrics are bolstered with messages that ooze sincerity. Blowup wise, J. Cole hasn’t quite made it to Drake’s level. I only watched half of “106 & Park” Monday and ol’ Jimmy Brooks made an appearance in two of five songs.

But this isn’t a blog about Drake; we all know how many of those the Internet is supporting right now. J. Cole is talented. And I’m gonna say it right now: I think he’s more talented than Drake. Fresh Detective readers (all five of you) know I love Drake, so this isn’t me hating on someone’s success. I might even prefer Drake when it comes down to bumpability and (at least for now) mixtape strength. But I think J. Cole only is going to sharpen his already impeccable style during the next year or so. For now, we know what Drake’s got: braggadocio and sunglasses.

J. Cole has two mixtapes — “The Come Up” and “The Warm Up” — and both are solid. His most recent, “The Warm Up,” features the track he played Jay-Z that got him signed, “Lights Please.” And let me just say: Oh man! It’s so genuine and hard-hitting. It’s mellow — J. Cole doesn’t try for bangers — but it’s heavy with passion. His ability to tell a story is reminiscent of one of his cited influences, Nas. And that’s not an exaggeration. Just play “Dreams” and try not to listen intently and laugh at its progression.

He doesn’t seem like he wants to host the MTV Video Music Awards. I doubt he’s looking to be a sex symbol and the paparazzi might never follow him around. Dude raps, and raps well, and that’s what he wants to be known for. Drake is a persona. J. Cole is a real guy. Both are sweet artists, but they’re playing different roles.

Having said that, though, you’re going to start seeing J. Cole soon if you haven’t already. “The Blueprint 3,” Jay-Z’s album coming out Sept. 11, features J. Cole on an already leaked track “A Star is Born.” And he’s also touring with fellow Roc Nation artist Wale after an impressive appearance on Wale’s most recent mixtape “Back to the Feature.”

I don’t think J. Cole’s going to get as big as Drake, but I also never thought Wale would do a song with Lady Gaga and have his music played in American Eagle. The game is changing and J. Cole really is warming up.

Listen to “Lights Please”.

Download “The Warm Up”.

Follow J. Cole on Twitter @JCOLEnc

I didn’t count the number of times I heard “oooh baby” on Discovery’s debut album “LP” because I can’t count that high. Luckily, “oooh baby” is my favorite thing to hear ever. But I never imagined I’d get my fix of passionate serenading from indie dudes Rostam Batmanglij (keyboardist from Vampire Weekend) and Wes Miles (Ra Ra Riot frontman). Passionate serenading may be a bit hyperbolic; you won’t hear that there’s nothing wrong with a little bump ’n’ grind (even though I’m sure they would agree there’s not), but you will hear other cheesy things like “Oooh baby you’ve got me goin’ so insane and I just don’t know what’s goin’ down.” No problems here.

But Discovery is neither illogical or hokey, nor is it too serious. And somehow, even though it’s a production representative of the hipster 20-something generation, it doesn’t come off as intentional irony. This, despite prevalent auto-tuning and synth and a cover of The Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back” (seriously). Sounds like everything you never want to hear from two rich white(ish) guys — one of who has a song dedicated to the Oxford comma — right?

Nah. The R&B-sounding lyrics in songs like “So Insane,” “Orange Shirt” and “Can You Discover?” are just a great choice to convey feelings. Their saccharine manner is silly, but their simplicity is pure poppishness. And anyone can create great pop. Not every track on the album is the jam of the century; the synth can get repetitive on “Osaka Loop Line,” but that might just be because it’s the longest track on the album at just more than four minutes. Every other song caps out at about 3:30, and isn’t that just the perfect amount of time to get a catchy song like “Carby” stuck in your head? (Yes.)

“I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend” — which features Angel Deradoorian from fellow indie band Dirty Projectors (who, oddly, also have an R&B feel to their latest (and greatest?) “Bitte Orca”) — is so good. It’s confusing when Angel coos at me that she wants to be my boyfriend, but I’m about ready to let her because of how perfect the song is. I can hear Janet Jackson or En Vogue singing this same song if they were forced to work with the synth-lovin’ artists of the ’80s. Similarly, the flow on “Orange Shirt” reminds me so much of an Usher delivery, which changes only slightly by a self-aware line about Googling oneself.

“Swing Tree” is average and unsurprising until suddenly the beat turns into one straight out of a Latino rap song. What a turn! The aforementioned “I Want You Back” is not nearly as satisfactory as the real deal, but it’s auto-tuned like mad, and the slow, twilightly feel mixed with the use of what can only be Mario Paint Composer (the swan maybe?) on a Super Nintendo to make the well-known bass melody sure is somethin’.

The album, out Tuesday, is summer 2009 at its best. It’s original and catchy as hell, and they clearly had fun making it so oooh baby baby baby baby baby listen to it.

The Major Lazer MySpace page lists its style as reggae/Americana/black metal. Yeah, I don’t really think that makes sense either. Good thing Major Lazer is just the entrance of DJs Diplo and Switch into Jamaican dancehall. And their album, “Guns Don’t Kill People … Lazers Do!”, is swell, albeit a little odd. There’s no real genre to Major Lazer, and there’s no “real” story to the name and accompanying eye-popping album art. Listening is an experience that takes you along the path of surf guitars, vibrating phones, the sound of bong hits and even the cries of a baby … auto-tuned.

I guess Major Lazer is supposed to be some Jamaican soldier who lost his arm and replaced it with a machine gun, but that’s just confusing and doesn’t actually explain the album. Explaining the album is hard. It’s busy and at times pornographic. It’s fast and wacky but manages to be lethargic and complex too. Don’t get me wrong; this is not revolutionary or even the best of its kind. It’s a saucy piece of fun to enjoy as such.

The first single and song on the album is the best track by far. The beat of “Hold The Line” is almost the “A Milli”/”Diva” beat that is so darn great, but it’s not. Luckily it’s darn great enough as it is. Santigold completes the jam with her surprised yelps of “ow!” Even though the song tells you to “vibrate like a Nokia” — which, ick — it’s pretty hard not to get down with this one.

“Cash Flow,” though not traditionally danceable, also is an album highlight for me. Jah Dan does his thing all over it and, though it doesn’t even sound mixed in the same sense as most of the other tracks do (as in, no weird noises), it still has its place with the rest. A big jam in the jammiest sense of the word worth mentioning is “Mary Jane.” It’s gotta be tuba I’m hearing, and that’s never a problem. There’s other stuff on there too. It’s not all notable, and a lot of it’s kind of irritating, but it’s certainly interesting and different.

The album serves a very specific purpose; it’s not something you’re going to want to listen to at just any time. Mostly just party time. (Which, I guess, CAN be any time.) When I listen to it at work, it pumps me up, but the repetitive lyrics and odd noises annoy everyone. Listen to “Pon De Floor,” one of the sweetest tracks, and you’ll understand what I mean.

Listen to the whole album here.

I recently heard “best comedy of 2009” being thrown around and I got a little antsy. I don’t normally feed into the buzz surrounding a comedy, and especially when that buzz originates from the college-aged crowd, but I’ve regretted not seeing a good movie when it came out (ie “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” and “Role Models”). So for this reason I was fairly pumped that I was going to see “The Hangover” while it was still at the top of the box office. I really wish I had liked it.

The premise of a group of dudes going to Vegas for a bachelor party is well worn, but with actors like Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms from “The Office” and deadpan comedian Zach Galifianakis, I figured there was a chance for some originality and wit. But the first joke of the movie is a gay joke. In fact, in the first 15 minutes of the film there are at least three jokes that either contain a slur for homosexuals or touch a homophobic nerve by putting the characters in awkward, too-intimate situations with each other. Or, you know, after three quarters through, showing a couple penises.

The film opens annoyingly with Cooper on the phone with the bride-to-be of his buddy Doug (Justin Bartha) beginning to explain how the quartet ran into some problems in Sin City. The wife’s acting is horrendous and the setup is rushed, but once we flash back to Vegas things pick up a bit. And there are a few legitimately funny moments after the boys wake up the next morning in their deliciously destroyed suite. Stu (Helms) is a grown-up McLovin’, uptight and unhappy with his life, and the reaction of the loss of his tooth is laugh-out-loud funny.

Galifianakis is great as the super weird brother of the bride who desperately seeks friendship with the guys. All of the funny lines in the film are courtesy of his character Alan, but mostly through the delivery, not the content. Cooper is wasted here and his character Phil is so reckless that it is implausible. Sure it seems cool that a schoolteacher is so nonchalant and snooty to his students, and it’s badass (I guess) to not care about leaving a tiger and a baby in the same hotel room or to steal a cop car, but it does not ring even a little bit true.

But the characters are not totally terrible; they just don’t work as a cohesive group. There is no chemistry among them and it never seems like they are playing off each other in a lively way. This could be a writing problem, and there’s no denying that Phil saying “That was some f——- up s—-!” 10 or more times was the most annoying facet of the film. I mean, that’s annoying when people say that in real life. Come on.

Plus the stakes are way too high in “The Hangover” for it to be very funny. Doug borrows his father-in-law’s classic Mercedes and it gets severely messed up. That is a big deal. And at the end of the movie there are no consequences. Not even a hint. The film is unbelievable in other parts, too. The whole tiger thing is not only conceptually impossible, it’s visually unconvincing in some instances as well (see: in the car).

The plot meanders and the film never really decides what it wants to be. Is this an action movie? There’s a lot of dumb action. Is this a gambling movie? There’s a scene where Alan wins $80,000 in blackjack that’s edited humorlessly like some sort of Vegas con artist film. Is this a sentimental movie? Stu finds love, Phil starts appreciating his family and Doug gets happily married.

I guess it’s just a movie for college bros, but it’s mostly just a BROmidic mess.

I know mashups are not new. And I’m very aware that most of them are pure crap. Anyone with remedial DJ equipment (aka a computer) can create beats for accapella versions of songs or mess with tempos to blend two different tracks. As for the bigger names, there’s Girl Talk, DJ Danger Mouse’s “The Grey Album,” a lot of Diplo’s stuff, Team Teamwork (which I may delve into in another blog entry) and all those others I may or may not have heard of. It’s hard not to like this postmodern cultural overload, especially when it’s super catchy and easy to booty dance to, but I’m not claiming that mashups hold a very high-brow status in the world of music.

Now the freshness (as far as ripeness and newness, not greatness or flyness) of this latest mashup to which I will eventually refer is pretty high. The Internet started talking a lot about it last weekend, and I’m slower than the Internet so I’m going to talk about it now. It’s called “Southerngold,” and it’s just Santigold’s self-titled album remixed with a bunch of well-known southern rap by some DJ Terry Urban guy (who, of course, got cease-and-desist letters from Santigold’s Downtown Records label “Grey Album”-style.)

It sounds pretty standard, I know. And it is! But there are some genuinely cool moments on the album, and I think it merits a free download (which you can find on the Internet, but I can’t tell you where because, you know). Here’s why: The Santigold beats are dope and always have been. The rap lyrics of the South are raunchy and full of braggadocio and lend themselves easily to clever reworkings that make them sound less gutter and more stylish. Given the choice, I would rather listen to UGK’s “International Players Anthem” in its original greatness instead of over the “You’ll Find a Way” beat, but that’s just one of the few slipups overall. Remember how laid-back and brassy that “Shove It” beat is? It’s only logical that Slim Thug and Mike Jones spit on top of that while giving Santi a chance to “oooooh” all over the chorus.

I could do without T-Pain (per usual), but he’s more listenable when I’m being moved by superior production on “Can’t Say It.” And I guess I’d be into the Rick Ross track more if his lyrics weren’t edited. (We all know Ross would never say “Who you suckers think you trippin’ with, yes I’m the boss.”) A few of the tracks don’t really work as mashups. They include the usual stumblings that are to be expected from the genre, except the mistakes on “Southerngold” aren’t even coming from high risk, just from poor editing decisions. But there are real standouts, and they include: “Anne’s Plan (Ft. Chip Tha Ripper),” “Still Tippin’ It (Ft. Slim Thug & Mike Jones),” “Unfreakable Girl (Ft. Gucci Mane)” and “Shawty Is Starstuck (Ft. The Dream),” if only because that “Starstruck” beat is one of my favorites ever.

Most of the blogs I read are not very into the album, but I don’t read my blog, so I’m pretty into it. If you aren’t as familiar with Santigold, that’s much better than this, and if you have never heard the original “Nann N——” by Trick Daddy and Trina, it is the grossest and probably best thing that came out of 1998 and I don’t think it’s even on the Internet right now because it’s that obscene.

As a huge sneakerhead and lover of Kanye West’s mashup fashion sense (which somehow manages to be retro, futuristic, gangster, hipster and classy all at once), I’ve been pretty pumped about Nike’s Air Yeezys for at least a minute. I’m the type of person that regularly salivates over new shoe releases on sneakerfiles.com or sneakerfreaker.com or sneakernews.com or any other iteration of sneaker and freshness followed by a dot com, but I hardly ever do any real purchasing. The reason for this is twofold. Firstly, and most importantly, the footgear I usually fiend for is uneconomical. Obviously I would love to drop a few Franklins on a pair of some Marty McFly-lookin’ kicks, but I can’t. Secondly, being that I’m a lady, my gentle little feet don’t fit into mens’ sizes unless it’s a seven and I’m having a lucky day width-wise. I like plenty of womens’ shoes (in fact, these Vandals are easily one of my favorite pairs), but there is definitely a dearth of fly sneaks for ladies.

Consequently, the Air Yeezys are not something I truly consider ordering. But thought experiments are being conducted at all hours of the day in this brain about the crazy and galvanizing shoe. I just don’t know if I love them. If you don’t know what the Yeezys look like, or anything about them, I’ll pause for you to read this. The hype for this shoe is absolutely insane. I think they look pretty great on Kanye. They’re just theatrical enough to complement his ego but also grounded enough by the Nike brand to seem plausible for nonmoon traipsing.

Let’s consider the specifics of the design, though. There’s something bothersome about the thickness of that strap. Too thick. Looks like an element from a robot child’s wardrobe. And for at least two of the colorways (the zen gray/light charcoal and black/black-pink) the strap texture is puckered and tacky. The colorways in general are unique, which is cool I guess, but none of them really blow me away (save for that glow-in-the-dark, as-yet unavailable design). And Kanye’s insistence on pink interiors is troubling for me, especially when it’s paired with the black exterior. I like to stay away from colorways that remind me of Hot Topic garments.

Basically the Yeezys are kind of ugly. They’re bulky and extravagant and sorta look like the shoe equivalent of a Trapper Keeper, but sometimes that means freshness. And I think I want them.

Aubrey Graham is a Canadian actor who was on a teen TV drama. Aubrey Graham also is a rapper named Drake on Lil’ Wayne’s Young Money record label. And dude is blowin’ up. I’m seeing Facebook statuses on top of Facebook statuses with quotes from his most recent “So Far Gone” mixtape. It’s mostly the ladies who are interested (and with lyrics like “Baby you my everything/you all I ever wanted/We can do it real big/Bigger than we ever done it,” how can you resist?), but the fellas aren’t turning their noses up at the 22-year-old’s style. Drake has collaborated with Kanye West, the aforementioned Lil’ Wayne, Trey Songz and some rapper named, like, Jay-Z or something. And as I was listening to Young Jeezy’s new mixtape, he’s on a track called “I’m Goin’ In” with Wayne. So he’s clearly on the up. And he knows it. 

Drake has figured something out about hip-hop and this music biz. If you broaden your base enough, everyone is going to like you. If you can sing and rap well, you’re already on a level that few artists can achieve. (Kanye tries. Kanye is out of tune 75 percent of the time.) Put Bun B on a song, get hip-hop heads that love UGK’s southern swag. Put Omarion or Trey Songz on a track, get the R&B-lovin’ ladies. Hell, rap over Peter Bjorn & John and indie kids won’t be able to not love it. Having Santigold on your mixtape is a luxury, and having Lykke Li on your mixtape is bold, but the hipsters you’ll pull with names like that seals your fate on the blogosphere. Drake has put some of the best artists in any genre on tracks, switched up the style and rapped some truly self- and capitalist-loving verses.

Even though sometimes Drake is sleepy, it’s a sultry sleepy. And not creepy, lick-my-lips-too-much-LL-Cool-J sultry, either. This sleepiness could get old, but Drake’s got this ability to speed it up at the right moments and throw in some cocky line about why everyone loves him. The first three songs on the mixtape are like this. He tends to go back and forth between completely cherishing women and objectifying them, but it works because he’s walking a thin line between sex icon and pompous MC. Well, maybe he’s hopscotching the crap out of that line, but whatever he is doing, it seems effortless.
Is his mixtape too good, though? Can he live up to all his hype? He just wants to be, he just wants to be successful, but has he peaked too soon to be a real force in the industry? I mean, this is the guy that says he’s got “buzz so big (he) could probably sell a blank disc.” I don’t know. I think he’ll be OK. He killed Kanye’s “Say You Will” with his “Say Whats Real,” he makes “Boy Meets World” references and the mentors this kid has been able to snag assures him at least a fairly fruitful career. I’m sure there are Drake haters out there, and I’m still deciding if his persona is even that interesting (born rich, still rich), but it’s hard to hate something so cavalier and catchy.

Drake’s certainly got some room to grow. The New York Times reviewed a show he did, which printed May 27. It was optimistic for the most part, but included were clear doubts about his quick rise to stardom. The piece said that “Drake couldn’t carry the burden placed upon him,” but he’s new to this sort of thing. The world of hip-hop is not “Degrassi: The Next Generation.” At least Drake is posturing as a celebrity enough that he’s gaining the same attention as those more famous. So maybe he’s not as great as he thinks he is just yet, but he does deserve some credit even if he is just a Frankensteinian creation of Yeezy and Weezy. He has plenty of time to fill in the shoes he’s bought himself.

Rap duo The Cool Kids have finally stepped up to the mic in the musically rich 2009 and given the Internet an uncharacteristically long mixtape, “Gone Fishing.” Produced by Don Cannon of “Gangsta Grillz” fame (please remember that Lil’ Wayne track) and including the annoying interruptions of “cannon!” and excessive echoed yelling reminiscent of no-talent DJs on bootlegged MP3s, the mixtape is pretty whatever.

The beats are out of place here. Instead of the clean sound of the 808 mixed with the goofiness of the Kids’ normal retro style, we get tinny, powerless beats you couldn’t ever imagine bumpin’ to and surprisingly subdued stuntin’. Add this to the boys seemingly sounding like they just woke up and are already bored with the day, and you’ve got a ton of weak tracks.

The filled-with-flyness lyrics that have come to be expected from The Cool Kids are slightly diminished on “Gone Fishing.” Chuck Inglish tries (and fails) to rhyme “this” with “first” in “Champions,” and most lines easily could be substituted into a different song without anyone noticing. But the lines are usually going to be interchangeable with Cool Kids content. They’re cool, and they know it, but it sounds as if they’re going through the motions in explaining their dopeness this time. They sound like some dudes posing as Chuck and Mikey, caring a little too much how much hip stuff they can fit into a song. “Gold Links” exaggerates a Cool Kids cliché that these boys love gold chains. We get it. If you’re gonna make a song about how much you like gold, even though you kind of already did with “Gold and a Pager,” you better come hard. Saying you’re “back on that gold chain s—-” just tells me that you’re rapping about exactly what you’re rapping about. You guys are clearly back on that gold chain s—-. Even though I didn’t think you left.

“Gone Fishing” is weary and indifferent throughout, but a couple of tracks do work. “The Last Stretch feat. Jahda” is just the right amount of sexy and laid-back. And “Pennies (The Updated Rosters Remix)” is where it’s at, especially with verses by Ludacris and Bun B. (Even though Luda unknowingly calls out the mixtape for what it is when he’s all “bass and treble good/need a lil’ meat on it.”) The “Wall Street” and Wimbledon references in ending track “Knocked Down” try to win me over pretty admirably, so it’s worth a mention. But really, that’s about it.

Without Don Cannon and his constant blabbering about being “First Team All-State” — which is just a weirdly specific sports reference to be throwing out all the time — the mixtape would have more replay value. But as a precursor to a hopefully simpler and uncluttered album release later this year, “Gone Fishing” isn’t to be hated on too hard. Except for that GLC interlude. What the hell.

Get “Gone Fishing” here

Lil’ Wayne’s “Cannon”