In 2016,Victor Vazquez (aka Kool A.D.) released 10 albums, a staggering output that that rivals 2010s Gucci Mane or mid-’00s Lil Wayne. Across 282 tracks, he sang his own praises more than ever, maybe hoping to will his oft-repeated (however ironically and/or seriously) “best rapper in the world” claim into reality. Unfortunately, Vazquez was sometimes derailed by the actual music. Many songs and plenty of freestyles were lazily thrown together, likely by design. For example, “Arts & Leisure” (from July’s 100-song Zig Zag Zig) is just a pitched-up version of a 2012 Action Bronson collaboration. Vazquez’s final album of the year, The Natural, is also the best of the 10, setting aside his deconstructive tendencies in favor of structured songs with intriguing, clever, and funny rhymes. The project lives up to its title, showcasing a nonchalantly brilliant rapper.
The Natural is cohesive, with all of the beats courtesy of frequent collaborator and fellow Bay Area resident Amaze 88. Sample-driven and blissed-out, the instrumentals keep the album moving when Vazquez threatens to drift off into the free-associative abyss. Leaning on his natural ability as the album’s concept, Vazquez sounds relaxed, effortlessly connecting thoughts. Nothing sounds forced, and he occasionally finds depth (“I feel the need to transmit my intellect along with the folly of my pride”) and humor (“the Scritti Politti scrivener”). He loves repeating himself, whether it is his own lyrics or those of others, and he may be realizing that if he wants to continue using his own bars over again in various songs, he needs to come up with some new signature phrases.
Vazquez often buries insight in his lyrics to equalize the ordinary with the profound: All thoughts are valued on a Kool A.D. album. The Natural continues the trend, as he juxtaposes a line like, “Live for the common good of people, not capital” (“The Natural”), with a later one on “Lay Up” where he intentionally mispronounces “library” and brags about oral sex. It flattens the scope of rap, insisting that words are inherently meaningful and meaningless, and lines are just combinations of sounds and musings. Or, as he raps on “Fatwa”: “I speak with no notion of convincing you of anything.” It’s an impulse that both pushes forward and undermines Vazquez’s work: He understands the art form conceptually possibly like no other, and his continued output demonstrates a near-addiction to rap, but too often it serves as an excuse to deliver inferior product that works only theoretically.
