Release schedules for commercial rap albums usually dictate their level of appeal to an audience or the label's confidence in the record's profitability, marketability, or general accessibility. That said, Bravehearted was snuck into the week before CD production ceases for Christmas holidays. Why would this happen? I mean, Nas is on five tracks. Seriously! He made Illmatic! His name is on the cover three times. Surely, this is practically a Nas EP, right?! And one of the Bravehearts is Nas' brother. But if you think of things in the comedic perspective, Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy's brothers are both comedians, too. Therefore, Bravehearted is effectively the Comedy Central special where Mike Rock gets to talk about his brother on TV.
In the simplest of terms, Bravehearts sound and rap like Nas. Except, along with a general lack of charisma and a dearth of ridiculous statements, the artists here rap as if they don't know the mic is on, or, at the very least, have never actually rapped on record before. This is bedroom hip-hop with production values and Nas saying things he would never say if he didn't already know no one would ever buy the album.
In an example of what I call "dancing like nobody's watching," Nas completely loses it on the title track, a surprisingly enjoyable bare-bones boom-bap number by Jungle, with flailing horns and cipher-styled vocal adlibs. Mr. Jones goes to Washington, not to talk to the president or transform into a gun (as is his custom), but to fornicate with "horny white nuns" and "black dyke ones," while "dressed like Bush." And then he lets loose the "You thought Nas kept his ignorance to interviews?" couplet of 2003: "I'm Jewish like Sammy Davis Jr./ Holding a Louis suitcase with Colin Powell chopped in pieces."
But seriously, if anything, Nas is the reason you might steal this off the Internet, as the short bus lyricism of the Bravehearts knows no end. At one point, Jungle brings about knowledge beyond his years: "I broke a nigga back with a baseball bat/ I crack your fucking skull, you'll need a body bag/ Your family's mad and sad, I'LL BE GLAD." Worst of all are the choruses that range from the vaguely homoerotic all-male singalong of "Sensations" ("I get a sensation when you suck my dick/ And you lick my balls") to the girl-on-leash misogyny of "I Wanna" ("Baby, I wanna fuck/ I'll be your down-ass slut/ You know I like it rough/ You can do it in my butt").
Production-wise, Bravehearted is a consistent style clash that sometimes proves effective but ultimately fails. The tribal ambience and classically raw drum loop (same used on "Five Man Army" by Massive Attack) of "I Will" and dark song to the siren assault of Lil Jon's "Quick to Back Down" win big and distract from the obvious lack of talent on display. But beats like the Casio cascade and soft drums of "Twilight" and the harsh harpsichords and sub-Cameo synth whistle of "Cash Flow" make you wonder if anyone could ever listen to this album without skipping a cut. Situations where this album might be played in rapid succession appear to me in night terrors. Cult meeting, bumping "Buss My Gun (For the One I Love)". I wake up with a start. Bomb shelter soundtrack of "Situations". Cold sweat. Nazi death march, loud speakers blast "Sensations". My girlfriend leaves me because of my restless sleep. Fuck you, Bravehearts.
With skits that are pure mid-90s self-aggrandizing (one involving a confusing anal sex soap opera), the most inane choruses ever, awkward flows, uninspired beats and Nas phoning in any number of "cred-heightening" verses, Bravehearted consistently sputters like a broken lawnmower or a shot down WWII warplane... fuck. The dreams are coming back.
