The Documentary
The Game
The Verdict: Featuring a variety of styles, this album proves that this rapper knows how to play the game.
5 stars out of 5 stars
It seems that nowadays, any rapper with half-decent rhyming skills can become the next big thing in hip-hop music just by hooking up with the right producers. A prime example is the Dr. Dre heritage line. Since his days with N.W.A. ended several years back, Dr. Dre picked up a young Marshall Mathers and molded him into the best selling rapper of all time. Mr. Mathers in turn, discovered New York-native Curtis Jackson a.k.a. 50 Cent, who put out 2003’s best-selling CD and garnered rave reviews for his solo effort, Get Rich or Die Tryin’.
Now, it’s 50’s turn to find a new protg keep the dynasty alive. This is where The Game (Jaceon Taylor) comes in to the … err … game.
The Game’s history tells like a hip-hop TV movie waiting to happen. Back in 2001, Game was shot five times over two pounds of marijuana, and like his mentor 50, he recovered. But Game’s recovery was far longer than 50’s, and during the time he spent in the hospital, Game studied up on, in his opinion, the greatest rap MCs to ever live. He studied Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Easy E, Kool G and, of course, Dr. Dre.
He honed his skills until he became one of the best-known rappers on the west coast. This led to his inevitable record deal with Dr. Dre’s Aftermath label in 2004, but only after Suge Knight’s Deathrow Records and Jay-Z’s Rock-A-Fella Records turned him down.
A year later, his highly anticipated debut, The Documentary, dropped in January 2005. The Documentary by and large is a great debut rap album. However, as unavoidable comparisons with the rest of his G-Unit family’s CDs spring up, it looks as if The Game could’ve tried harder.
The Documentary opens up with what could be mistaken as an Alicia Keys rap song, with heavy piano pounds and light piano licks backing Game and 50 Cent talk about Game’s awakening of himself as a rapper: “Since the west coast fell off, the streets been watchin’/the west coast never fell off, I was asleep in Compton,” and west coast rap: “been there, done that, sold crack/got jacked, got shot, comeback, jumped on Dre’s back.”
He follows with two soul-sampling jams: the looming, Kanye West-produced “Dream” and the funky-sophisticated “Hate It or Love It” about Game’s already confident position in the hip-hop arena: “Go ‘head envy me/I’m rap’s MVP/and I ain’t goin’ nowhere, so you can get to know me.”
The heavy, marching piano and furious strings of “Higher” let Game affirm his previous claim: “Put 25’s on the Hummer, why not/I’ma be here for the next 10 summers,” while the first single “How We Do” lets Game relax and drink it up with his homies: “Pass the blunt/these G-Unit girls just wanna have fun/coke and rum/got weed on the tongue,” back by heart-pounding bass and strings that are, at once, sophisticated and street.
The Game then switches gears to his rough life, but doesn’t ask for sympathy: “I was forced to live this life, forced to bust my chrome/my pops left me in a foster home.” On the trumpet-loaded “Church for Thugs,” he realizes the would-be consequences for his risky rhymes: “If I die for one of my statements/Then break up the streets of Compton and spill my blood in the pavement,” and shouts out to the people for whom he makes his music: “I spit for you n****s doin’ 25 on they fifth year/them White boys in the Abercrombie and Fitch gear,/ and every n**** who helped me get here.”
“Put You On the Game” lets Game boast some more backed by Timbaland’s recycled beats: “I’m the rapper wit’ the clout other n****s yap about,” while the title-track lets Game tell us that The Documentary is the summary of classic CDs by B.I.G., Jay-Z, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Tupac and Nas. While this statement might not be totally accurate, the music makes up for it, with rock-rap bombast ready to fill a rowdy stadium.
The gritty, gospel-tinged “Runnin'” and the old-school “No More Fun and Games” allow Game to make a hearty assumption: “I’m in a class all by myself, like the brown Eminem,” while the Eminem-produced “We Ain’t” lends a welcome guest appearance by Slim Shady himself over a dark, pulsating, grind track.
The Game touts his home city in the funky, laidback “Where I’m From,” “Special,” with its poppin’ bass and handclaps, gives Game the opportunity to admire the fairer sex: “The way you look, the way you ride when you workin’ them thighs/the way you lickin’ your lips when you look in my eyes,” and the subtle drum-and-bass-tinged R&B number “Don’t Worry” shows Game’s emotional side: “I put nothing above you,and behind that vest I got a heart ma’, gangstas need love, too.”
But the best tracks on the album are ironically the most heartfelt. “Start From Scratch” finds Game’s thuggish demeanor substituted with a emotional recollection on life and a choked up voice to boot: “This a dog eat dog world Jesus, please holla back/I got a confession to make, and it’s called payback.”
And on “Like Father, Like Son,” grandiose violins and smooth, thumping bass encompass Game’s ode to his son Harlem Caron Taylor. Game spits emotional rhymes about the gratitude he feels toward Harlem: “They say every time somebody dies, a child is born/So I thank the n**** who gave his life for the birth of my son,” and the better future he hopes he can provide for his son: “I hope you grow up to become that everything you can be/That’s all I wanted for you young’n.”
The Game hits many high, albeit emotional, points on The Documentary, but the constant rhymes about finally making it big in hip-hop wear thin after 70 minutes.
Make no mistake, what The Game talks about is all real, but it leaves one actually hoping to hear a shake-your-ass type song. But then again, maybe that’s what makes the Game a force to be reckoned with: he raps about real-life so well; the listener feels the bullet wounds first-hand by which The Game has been scarred by.