For most of Wiz Khalifa’s career, he’s been lumped into the category of "stoner rap," but the Pittsburgh native is an aggressively functional smoker, a pot enthusiast with a Steel City work ethic. His anthems have won him a dichotomous fan base: one-half living off his gigantic heartfelt singles that have nil to do with pot-smoking and the other the loyal, chest thumping Taylor Gang kids with aspirations of someday affording his KK (that’s "Khalifa Kush," Mr. West). It’s worked out well for Khalifa; he’s managed to compartmentalize an audience that doesn’t need to know the other half exists as long they’re being fed a steady stream of relevant tunes.
His sixth studio album, Khalifa, would suggest he’s splitting the difference—creating an album that is more personal (hence its partially eponymous title). After all, Wiz’s relationship with pot is a very personal thing (to him) and so is his need for success. He’s also a father, which presents another opportunity to dig deeper. But "digging deep" isn't really in Wiz's repertoire, and apart from some faintly nostalgic bars about his come-up here and there, listeners panning for introspection will mostly come up empty.
Wiz is on a whole other plane now, thanks to perhaps the biggest hit of his career ("See You Again"), a song that wasn’t even on his album. So instead of living through the struggle like some of his previous works suggest, this project reflects on escaping it: The track "Cowboy" verbalizes those earliest days of cutting corners in PA, set to Jim Jonsin and his production duo FNZ’s soothing beat. He alters and repurposes that come-up tale throughout most of the album, punctuating it with an ellipsis and "but I’m rich now" tacked on for good measure. Like he says on the Metro Boomin-produced opener "BTS": "humble beginnings, rich ass endings," but he keeps regurgitating that sentiment through the duration of 13 songs.
That doesn’t mean the album is without bangers. The Rico Love-assisted "Celebrate" is a mellow ode to the good life of sex and blowing checks. "City View" dabbles with an '80s-skewed beat compliments of a production from Metro Boomin and Lex Luger. "iSay" is another one, because Juicy J always delivers, even over rumbling keys. The only track with hit potential, though, is "Bake Sale" with Travis Scott, which sounds more like a Travis Scott record than a Wiz Khalifa one. And of course the pot anthems are present. "Call Waiting" offers us Wiz Khalifa the singer, where he coos about marijuana like it’s his most faithful companion, and "Lit" where he and Ty Dolla $ign volley back and forth over who rolls and smokes the most.
But this is all to the detriment of promising a more private work, since that’s basically just "Work Hard, Play Hard" with a different SKU. The only real glimpse into the life of Cameron Thomaz is on "Zoney," where he goes into greater detail about his life: "Coming up I always thought I’d be the runner up / Gave my all but it felt like it wasn’t enough." He closes the track with a sweet dialogue between him and his son, Sebastian, where it sounds like baby Bash is calling Pittsburgh "Pixburgh" like a true native. Maybe Khalifa isn’t meant to be all that personal; after all, he didn’t name the album Cameron. It delves as far as it can without hitting government-name territory, and for that the true fans will embrace it. But how many times can you retell the same story? Good thing stoners have a short memory.
