Young Jeezy's The recession PITCHFORK review

[Elano]

Young Jeezy:
The Recession
[Def Jam; 2008]
Rating: 6.5

Young Jeezy "fucks with John McCain," but he's an ardent Barack Obama supporter. This confused stance makes more sense after listening to the Atlanta MC's third LP, billed as a response to the country's current economic troubles. But really, The Recession relates to the recession about as much as McCain relates to pacifist immigrants; there's no mention of subprime mortgages or the credit crunch throughout its 18 tracks. Jeezy, like McCain and Obama, is a quality politician who knows how to appeal to his base. So instead of offering Economist-style predictions and Dowd-y editorials, Jeezy gives us a Jeezy record: synthetic beats that come down like anvils, ad libs by the freight load, and all-or-nothing Bald Bull punchlines. Like the world's most famous 72-year-old Republican, the rapper is trying to tweak a working formula to his advantage. If there's any sort of recession happening on the album, it's a mental one-- for the first time, Jeezy questions the world around him instead of simply reveling in it by any means necessary. And, like a certain history-making Harvard Law School alum, Jeezy is searching for change from the inside out while trying to maintain a superhero guise.

"It's a recession, everybody broke/ So I just came back to give everybody hope," huffs the street preacher on the title track. This is Young Jeezy the Savior-- the same guy who wore a Marvel-like seal on the front of his chest at a recent New York City concert. It's the guy who stacks his hoarse vocals in an effort to inspire and motivate on albums like The Inspiration and Let's Get It: Thug Motivation 101. Minutiae is his enemy. After all, there's no time for Plato (or KRS-One) style philosophizing in 2008, when sound bites talk and your iTunes hotness pales compared to the Jonas Brothers. In this version of The Dark Knight, Jeezy is everyone: caped crusader, diabolical villain, jolly fatalist, big guy who surprisingly takes the moral high ground.

On the wicked Okayplayer bitch slap "Word Play", he drops a drug-selling campaign slogan ("You niggas want word play but I got bird play"), reveals his anti-matter approach as ingenious strategy ("I'm way too intelligent to play up my intelligence"-- still President Bush, take note), and floats democratic ideals before snatching them back with an iron fist ("If [Pac] had to pass the torch that bitch would go to me/ Now wouldn't you agree?/ Doesn't matter, I accept!"). A few songs later, on the regal "My President", he begins by throwing out his cue cards ("I ain't write this shit, by the way!") and suckering old-guard delegate Nas to finish things off sounding tinier than ever. Chalk up another win for the NYC outsider with the hearty guffaw.

But not even this highly inflatable rapper can solve all of America's problems with a tautological twist and a spirited "yeeeaaahhh!" Whereas he once supported going crazy, Jeezy's now thinking twice about a planet gone nuts on "Crazy World". Flip-flopper? You decide: "They want that Young shit, that dumb shit, that 'where you from' shit/ That ride around your hood with your gun shit," he starts-- whether it's a lament or a statement of purpose isn't entirely clear. He later considers swiping his "granny's nerve pills" before ending up at a "how many houses do you own?"-esque dilemma: "I want a new Bentley, my auntie need a kidney/ And if I let her pass her children never will forgive me." Apparently, Def Jam's health care package is kinda stingy.

The self-recession can be ridiculous, but it's there if you look hard enough. Though he's made mainstream inroads with cameos on tracks from Usher and Mariah Carey this year, "Hustlaz Ambition" has Jeezy retreating from the spotlight: "As far as award shows, we all know how that goes/ So what's all the doubt about, because he ain't sellin' out?/ Because he ain't givin' up?/ Because he don't give a fuck?/ I guess he ain't lame enough." While Jeezy may piss away his Grammy chances, he also allows Mr. Grammy Family, Kanye West, to spew Auto-Tune and steal all sorts of shine on stellar single "Put On". Between his verse's wrenching pleas to his late mother and mildly intimidating pick-up lines, West embodies the crazy world Jeezy is still too scared to fully admit exists. People like to see their heroes break down now and then.

The Recession is a third-term bid that can't help but repeat talking points of its previous incarnations. Bolstered by a gimmick and a catchphrase, the album is by-and-large Jeezy qua Jeezy, and the new fissures aren't enough to keep pundits gabbing. Nobody else can pull off this brand of big, and its singularity is noteworthy but oftentimes second-rate: "Welcome Back" was more welcomed when it was called "Standing Ovation" or "Hypnotize", and "Circulate" pulses Philly Soul like a less crazed "Go Crazy" or "Mr. 17.5". "I know I ain't there yet, just know I'm gonna be," says Jeezy during a rare moment of self-reflection. But where is "there"? A staid state of survivalism characterized by baseless crowd pleasing or something more dynamic, elusive and ultimately hopeful? The choice is his.