Rapping about the pressures of being famous is pretty popular right now. Kanye West and Drake, in their best moments, can make that weight feel like something that could apply to our jobs and relationships, and Big Sean's debut album on West's G.O.O.D. Music imprint takes a similar approach. The idea seems to be that with a deal and a record in stores, the Detroit MC has earned the right to complain with the best of them.
While Finally Famous isn't especially nuanced, Sean is an often extremely entertaining rapper. He's able to fit his elastic, smooth voice in the cracks of No I.D.'s lush soul samples just as easily as he slides right over heavier, more radio-friendly tracks like "Marvin & Chardonnay", which features a verse from West. Sean often runs circles around beats, speeding up his voice so that his words cram into a pileup in the end. His appeal is more in the way he plays with language than in his lyrics, which go so far as to make an unfortunate "Family Guy" reference.
On individual tracks, Sean's style works well. Even the blandest lyrics are worth a rewind based purely on delivery and enthusiasm. Who knew that "Fuck, I hate to say I told you so/ So buying rounds is my way of saying I told you hos" could sound so believably triumphant? But it's when the guests show up-- a high-profile list including not only West, but also The-Dream, Lupe Fiasco, Pharrell, John Legend, Wiz Khalifa, and Chris Brown-- Sean appears out of place on his own album. Clipse's Pusha T has a particularly strong verse on deluxe-edition album closer "100 Keys", while Sean sounds helium-light by comparison.
Ultimately, Sean's a likable character. Still, a line on "100 Keys" encapsulates his faults: "Keys open doors, but bricks open windows," he raps, recalling Clipse's "Keys Open Doors" except lacking their sharp wit and heavy delivery. We can only hope that for album two, Sean will step out from the herculean shadows of the artists he surrounds himself with and learn the art of subtlety.
