It was easy to get behind Cannibal Ox. A scrappy duo of New York ne'er-do-wells, their struggle was rich with emotion and anger, siphoning ghetto struggle through El-P's fish-eye lens. And then Vordul got his collarbone broken. We stood behind Vast's questionable freestyles and guest appearances. We even thought about buying his Dirty Magazine mixtape (until we downloaded it and wept). Now, three years after The Cold Vein made them underground hip-hop's next big thing, comes Vast Aire's solo debut for Chocolate Industries, an awkward, inconsistent amalgam of wasted talent and musical apathy.
The magic behind Vast Aire's early work is almost intangible, considering that his vocal exterior consists of a hazy cadence, off-kilter flow, unrelenting repetition, and dependence on punch-ins. But his stoic confidence was immediately compelling-- almost as much as his effortless control of metaphor. But the Vast Aire that shows up on Look Mom No Hands is confusing and confused. Here, his darts lack the sharpness of his Cold Vein cuts, and as he frames his tracks with lame choruses ("Saying his rhymes ain't fresh/ Is like saying Ted Koppel's toupee is okay"), there's nothing to counter his arrhythmic delivery. Whether this lack of ambition results from Vordul's temporary departure or just a sudden comfort with his craft is uncertain; what isn't is that Vast Aire just doesn't sound hungry anymore.
There are a few moments in which Vast offers glimmers of hope, from the amusing back-and-forth of the MF Doom collab "Da Supafriendz" to the pleasant summer barbecue vibe of the obligatory R&B; cut "Viewtiful Flow", but never is the promise of greatness more apparent than on "Life's Ill Pt. II: The Empire Striketh". Madlib's instrumental sounds like someone playing church organ in a spaceship's engine room, with Breeze Brewin "writing dead sea scrolls," Vast juxtaposing 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Cold Vein's release date, and Vordul chastising "half-comedians, not really soundin' funny." Unfortunately, these are the best of the lot, and on a 16-track outing, these brief diamonds can't overshadow the rough.
The production is a spotty affair as well, though it too has its moments. On the upside, Rjd2 pours incredible strings and 70s bass atop the pointless Esoteric diss "9 Lashes (When Michael Smacks Lucifer)" and Madlib contributes the suspended flute, recoiling horns and marching drums of the title track. But for every "Pegasus (Remix)", there's an "Elixir" (which, by the way, sounds like something from an aborted Daz Dillinger/Erick Sermon compilation). This kind of inconsistency helps to illuminate Vast's lack of lyrical commitment throughout the album.
All said, even with Aesop Rock, Sadat X, Blueprint, Breeze Brewin, MF Doom and Vordul on the lineup, Look Mom... No Hands consistently fails to impress lyrically, or to convince fans that Vast's first solo venture is really the individual effort it purports to be. Sure, he drops the occasional jewel ("The third movie of The Matrix was gonna be wack/ It ain't like I didn't care/ But the Oracle said 'spend your money elsewhere'"), but otherwise it's a sleepwalk-- one on which Vast takes for granted the name recognition and industry connections that snagged him the underground's top rappers and producers.
