The first voice we hear on Curren$y's new album, The Stoned Immaculate, does not belong to Curren$y. It belongs to Wale, who informs us: "We blessed to be here/ It's a blessing for you to be here with us." This is not an auspicious start to Spitta's first major-label studio effort since 2011's Weekend at Burnie*'s*. A distant universe ago, Wale seemed likable enough, but over the years his persona has curdled; he currently resembles the cartoonish Asshole Boyfriend character in your average teen sex comedy. If rap were high school, he and Curren$y would never hang out together.
"What It Look Like", the song that Wale snickers all over (he's also acquired a repellent habit of pausing to chuckle at all his own lines) is otherwise a fine example of the sort of song Curren$y has made his career perfecting: languid, precise rapping unspooling generously over high-thread-count, lush jazz-funk music. In fact, the second Curren$y reclaims the spotlight from his guest on the second verse, things snap into focus, or rather dilate back out-- Curren$y's music is best experienced through a dim glow-- and stays there. Apart from this buzz-harshing moment, The Stoned Immaculate proceeds apace, and you can feel the air clear, everyone settle down. Relax: This is going to be another Curren$y album.
Reviewing new Curren$y albums has, in a way, become a diminishing-returns exercise: He has long settled into a groove that hardly rewards fresh commentary. If you have listened to one Curren$y release since 2010, there are zero earth-shaking revelations to impart. Apart from minor costume changes from project to project-- Curren$y with Alchemist; Curren$y with Styles P; Curren$y over Ski Beatz-- his releases are beginning to blur together, even, in some cases, inducing déjà vu. I found myself double-taking at the song called "Jet Life" that ends The Stoned Immaculate, for instance; surely he'd gotten to that title before now?
But the critic's curse is the listener's boon: Curren$y has put out enough good music in this vein since 2010 to fill up a Jet Life-only iPod, one you could easily hit "shuffle" on and nod your head drowsily to for uninterrupted hours. And though his focus is narrow, Curren$y has yet to repeat himself. Instead he homes in-- on the perfect simile for his weed, the best description of his car seats, the funniest deadpan insult. The Stoned Immaculate is packed with sly, pullback-worthy lines: On "Showroom" he checks his email on his iPad and tells us its "full of condo prices." On "Take You There", he's "smoking on something strong as my vivid imagination." On "No Squares", he's chasing the money down "like it key-scratched my Impala." Like all lifestyle-music rappers, Curren$y's lyrics drip with nice things, and the joy that comes from fondly describing them. But the language he brings to them exists in its own universe.
And then there's his voice. The old cliché about sounding good reciting the phone book comes to mind. Especially when he appears to be actually reading from The Blue Book, as on this opening lyric from "Showroom": "When the speedometer read 70 miles per hour, a spoiler is deployed from the trunk/ Less wheel resistance, more power." The line reads laughably leaden on the page, but coming from Curren$y, it runs like honey off a spoon.
He also almost never lets a beat show his bad side. Monsta Beatz builds him a heavily scented opium den on "Armoire". He sounds at home in it. Pharrell revisits the kind of lounge-cheese he specialized in circa 2005 with "Chasin' Paper". He sounds at home there, too. On "Sunroof", Spitta even finds his way around some strange, squint-inducing Mariachi MIDI music. You just can't catch this guy out.
There are other guests on this album besides Wale, but none of them disturbs the atmosphere as he does. Estelle, obscured by weed clouds, sings an aching hook for the modest love song "That's the Thing". 2 Chainz downshifts into his "laid-back" mode for the jazz flute-flecked after-hours number "Capitol". No one gets too worked up. Everyone has a good time. There is nothing at stake in Curren$y's music. When the album is over, everyone exits his den, squinting. When he returns, a few months from now, with another release, we'll all find our way to our particular spots on that couch again and settle in. It's always a pleasure.
