With a reckoning on the record industry and comeback of sorts in the works on some strange media and bravado fused in Rube Goldberg fashion, 50 Cent sits in an interesting limbo where the horde waits with more hopes to hate than anticipate, and for the case of his Gangsta Grillz glossed The Lost Tape with the completely unnecessary DJ Drama, all preludes to his upcoming album bear the weight of where he’ll stand outside of the legacy of his name. Drama’s first unfortunate words: “We’re not here for approval. We’re not here to be liked” reveal the very desperate intentions of The Lost Tape beneath slathered attitude, and the truth is that everything about the project is to satisfy each for the sake of Curtis’ career (Drama’s hit the septic as soon as he stopped humping Dedication 2).
The opening track “Get Busy” is crowded with distorted instrumentals, DJ Drama drooling babble, and an overall cornucopia of studio effects designed to disguise Curtis’ lack of lyrical effort and muffled tone, but the tape picks up quickly with the calmly chaotic “Double Up” driven by Tone’s boardwork and a lyrical focus aimed toward quality rather than radioplay; it maintains enough of the street theme without falling into basic clichés sonically, though is quick to rise in the poor attempt to draw out a Rastafari accent in “Murder One” with the unfortunately tasteless araabMUZIK instrumentals (a rarity). Even the Shady cosign isn’t enough to hold the track down (especially because it’s just Em talking), and despite the effort, 50 Cent’s sucked his street past dry as a source to inject his music with braggadocio. The “no wait, no pine box, no funeral, just nine shots…” dog has been beaten to bones--that signature has faded over the last twelve years. The “once street, always street” adage doesn’t apply to Curtis, and it’s only in the mode of seeking more creativity outside of the self that finds 50 success on verses like “Riot Remix” alongside 2 Chainz and the flow-focused “Complicated.”
We’ve heard tracks like “O.J.” and “I Ain’t Gonna Lie” too many times, especially from 50, and the theory is coming from a mid-2000s era that’s already closed down. They carry a forced attitude, and the transparency shows that Curtis is working toward something he knows is already broken. When the latest crime you’re guilty of is stock market manipulation, and your sole beef is with Interscope, tracks like “You A Killer…Cool” and “Swag Level” bleed gimmick; there’s an obvious identity crisis throughout the tape, and 50 shows of his skills best when it seems he’s simply himself, and not Get Rich Or Die Tryin’. “Planet 50” and “Lay Down (Smoked)” might be soft sound-wise, but they’re two of the few instances on The Lost Tape where we’re getting quality verses that don’t reveal hidden intentions other than simply making good music.
The greatest truth on The Lost Tape is at the end of “Get Busy” when Drama says “Drama and 50, y’all shoulda never let that happen,” because it’s true. 50 Cent doesn’t need paisley gimmicks from yesterday to boost the notice of his work. It’s on him, and using everything but the music to stay relevant is the most obvious signifier that certainties on failure are well in mind. 50 Cent is unquestionably a notable in the early millennium mixtape movement conversation, but his roots grow pale with The Lost Tape, as it only reminds us that he’s still more so in the rut than he is out of it.
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