The Weekly Coos

It’s been 11 years since we’ve gotten an LL Cool J album and not much to attribute toward the why, but he hasn’t been silent. Acting and hosting shows like the big personality he is, there was no shock that he was striving; the personality is what made him who he is, and the confidence and positivity radiated through him, especially on the Grammy Stage. However, as big of a personality as LL Cool J is, he seems to take a sensible step back with his new album, The FORCE. It’s a new abstract codex produced by Q-Tip, where he envelops LL Cool J around sounds one wouldn’t think he’d rap over—eerily it feels/sounds like LL Cool J is just taking rapping over Tribe Called Quest-like beats, yet it works tremendously. There are highs and lows, but much of the lows emanate from features or a forgettable verse from LL Cool J here and there. On “Passion,” when LL Cool J rapped, “On the first stream, had ’em glued/Dominate the new era in my Yankee fitted,” solidifying how I felt hitting play on the album and getting mesmerized by some powerful delivery and near-perfect production.

As LL Cool J would tell the Associated Press on/around the 40th anniversary of Def Jam LLC’s creation this past July 12th, “going back to the drawing board and learning how to rap again … making sure I was really inspired by the things I was saying. That’s why there isn’t a lot of fluff on this album.” That is potently heard here, as LL Cool J stays with the pen ready to keep it on wax and allow the words to bounce off your listening device. It makes the delivery more impactful, especially as the themes LL Cool J focuses on are potent to the Black Experience in our society, his legacy, and his musings on his place in the canon while giving us some of LL’s better lyrical work. There’s “Black Code Suite,” where LL Cool J reflects on his life and defines his blackness via culture and person. With significant highs that come and go, I’m surprised much of it is deterred by how unexpectedly unbalanced the content gets. We get noticeably grand statements of reality, and then his new reality, which the title track fumbles by not being as interesting as “Basquiat Energy.” 

LL Cool J is bolder by taking this nuanced approach to tackle certain themes like racism and isolationism; however, as powerful and captivating flows allow his words to pop out not all tracks are alike, especially “Saturday Night Special,” which is easily forgettable, like the final track, which doesn’t have an impact like the opening due to a direct cypher-like beat. Some favorites are “30 Decembers,” which brings themes of isolation and self-worth within the “belly of the beast,” as he’d put it, giving us these two extensive verses that carry such ferocity about his struggles and confidence to make it 30 Decembers; I’m surprised rappers don’t do the model LL does here more regularly: two verses, one outro. We know LL Cool J was one of the earliest rappers to make waves, and much of that came from putting Def Jam on the map—as LL Cool J would say, “I Can’t Live Without My Radio,” and his history brings interesting reflections and legacy infused and earned highs. “Huey In the Chair,” where he uses Huey Newton’s infamous photo as a parallel to his rebellious confidence inspiring more rappers to come out of the woodwork.

The Force is nothing without Q-Tip’s production, in which he gets assisted on two tracks, though it’s more input from the respective featured artist that gives it more layers beneath the jazzy abstract beats laid overhead. The consistency stays high with 13 tracks of the 14, unfortunately, more inconsistencies come from the featured rappers who don’t match LL’s energy and come off as more typical compared to the expectancy. Many of these rappers featured can turn it on, but only Saweetie, Nas, and Busta Rhymes are memorable. Rick Ross and Fat Joe aren’t that memorable, delivering what you’d expect from the two without the energy you got from the flows LL Cool J delivers. It makes his solo tracks better as others continue to lack oomph, like Eminem and Snoop Dogg, the latter of which only performs a hook, making the combo less interesting and disappointing, like with Eminem and his dated flow. It feels lazy and feels like speedbumps along the way without leaving an impact, like “Black Code Suite” does. It’s an album I’ve returned more to LL Cool J rapping solo-dolo with the occasional Q-Tip hook that takes you back to the 90s.

The FORCE isn’t perfect, it’s good, but not great. It has the tools to be something grand and it weakens with trying to be too much with the flexing. The highs came from LL Cool J getting real or reflecting on his legacy with champagne, money, and flows, but it’s inconsistent. The production may keep you hooked through the lackluster moments, but that’s the power of Q-Tip and I’m glad LL Cool J took this approach; it’s bold and it leaves a satisfied sensation in my ears that I listened to it more than I’d expect to. I’d recommend it for the value of listening to LEGENDS rip it on the mic, which he kills, despite age. The Hall of Famer is back and rejuvenated, and as a hip-hop fan, I’m all for it.