Cannibal Ox's 2001 debut, The Cold Vein, continues to stand as an indie-rap masterpiece. The duo's members, Vast Aire and Vordul Mega, had something to prove. Definitive Jux label head El-P, who produced the album, was fired up to define himself post-Company Flow. And underground hip-hop was at the perfect point to accept a new vanguard for post-Wu-Tang spiritual headknock. But bridges have been burned, beefs over business have gone down, and all the players have been left to their own devices. The more time that passes, the easier it is to wonder how well the sum of CanOx's parts could survive independently of each other.
For a while after the release of 2008's Dueces Wild, it looked like Vast Aire was finally starting to shift the conversation from "when's the next CanOx album?" to "when's the next Vast album?" But any feeling of momentum from that release has vanished on OX 2010: A Street Odyssey. It takes 35 seconds for the space-age triumphalism of "Nomad" to get to this cornball lyric: "And even though I do yoga/ Trust me, Vast Aire has never been a poseur." Over a beat evoking some sort of futurist celestial majesty, that head-slapper of a punchline is only the first of several moments where it feels like Vast is stuck somewhere between badass and goofball. In splltting the difference, he just sounds stilted.
Other verses tread a similar line. "My dad is a Magnum/ I'm a son of a gun," Vast jokes on "2090 (So Grimmy)". The wicked-carnival scenario of "Merry Go Round" has just the minimum amount of dignity to keep it from seeming like a bid for Juggalo crossover fandom. And the goopy wuv-rap of "Horoscope" is way too treacly from someone who once poured his heart out on The Cold Vein's devastatingly sincere "The F-Word". The most cringeworthy moment comes in closer "Battle of the Planets", where Vast actually recycles the refrain from "Scream Phoenix", turning The Cold Vein's most life-affirming moment into a grudge taunt at the expense of former Weathermen crewmate Cage. His deliberate, heavily enunciated growl underlines every embarrassing lyrical decision in red pen.
At least OX 2010 doesn't feel entirely like one MC stranded in his own malaise. The beats are serviceable, with some unostentatious boom-bap from the likes of Kount Fif, Harry Fraud, and Ayatollah. And the guest verses range from complementary mediocrity (Cappadonna treading water on "I Don't Care") to complete upstagings (Guilty Simpson going berserk on "The Verdict"). Unfortunately, the album's most headline-grabbing collaboration-- a brief reunion with Vordul on "Thor's Hammer", with a re-used Raekwon verse from Blood on Chef's Apron taking the first slot-- is also its biggest disappointment. There are plenty of ways to get people to stop clamoring for a Cannibal Ox reunion. This album's the saddest one.
