P.O.S. is a member of Doomtree, an abstract collective of Minneapolis MCs, DJs, and producers (some of whom make guest appearances here), that has a graceful way with bass lines and an exacting knack for distorting melody to the point of displeasure. With a personality that lies somewhere between back-of-the-class snark machine and overeducated carnival barker, P.O.S. is the unmitigated star of this crew. He's slick with his verbs and an electric, engaging performer, but he lacks a certain perceptibility.
Audition is P.O.S.'s second album and his goals seem dignified: Cull punk's fiery abrasions and mesh it with the continually refined, authentically emotive hip-hop that's been billowing out of Minnesota for some time. This goal is all but impossible. His version of punk's manic, enraged tension-- essentially its spine-- is antithetical to the downy grooves that propelled Slug to pinup status. If recent Rhymesayers history has taught us anything, the more aggressive the Atmosphere song, the more grating. That's clear on the jazzy "Bush-League Psych-Out Stuff", which features Slug intoning his quasi-famous "Gimme a pound or a hug" mantra in opposition to P.O.S.'s angry young man steez. He's right to mess with guitar fractals and unsteady bass, there's not enough sophisticated intermingling going on in the underground right now. But against a cool, effortless Slug, P.O.S. sounds like a guy tugging on shirt tails.
"Half Cocked Concepts" opens Audition with the sort of propulsive, shouted chorus and saw-toothed guitars that terrify most dyed-in-the-Air Forces rap fans. It's a trick. Most of the joints after that are more accessible, but his challenge to the audience is obvious: "Brace your bowels, this won't be easy, I'm not an easy artist and I don't rap about blunts, broads, bitches, bras, menage-a-trois, or sex in expensive cars." "Stand Up" recalls the best, loudest part's of Rjd2's "The Horror" and gets closest to his agit-prop propers when he sneers, "We keep our hands warm with the damn Patriot Act." Greg Attonito, lead singer of pop-punk progenitors Bouncing Souls, joins P.O.S. for a soaring chorus on the autobiographical "De La Souls". The album's most distinctly hip-hop track, it's built on solemn cello and crackling snares, and offers relationship drama ("I can safely say I've never played a woman without Karma catching up") and family death and metaphorical tangle ("By the time I catch an apple, usually it's rind"). "Paul Kersey to Jack Kimball" sees P.O.S. emulating Eminem's gruff, distressed growl, coupled with spare, empty bathroom horror.
"P.O.S. Is Ruining My Life" is the album's centerpiece but it grossly reverts to Staind-style indulgence, practically demanding raised cell phones and LOVE-HATE tattoos on your fists. And much has been made of Hold Steady lead singer Craig Finn's "Predator"-dissing appearance on "Safety in Speed (Heavy Metal)". The track, downbeat and ethereal, isn't anything special and the political imagery is murky at best. Finn's attempts at adroit observation are courageous but imprecise. Here, like elsewhere, P.O.S. makes reckoning a certainty. Problem is we're just not sure what he'll leave in his wake: canny significance or imprudent blather.
