Mos Def – The New Danger (Geffen)
There’s something in the words “I don’t give a fuck what kind of brand you are / I’m concerned what type of man you are / What your principles and standards are,” that represents more then just a proud man bragging on a track. Instead, Mos Def’s lyrics sound more like a proposal for a new mission statement for thinking man’s hip hop than your standard braggadocio. Which is why we’re so happy by the time those words come, almost entirely through Mos Def’s latest, The New Danger.
For the first half of his second solo album, I had begun to think he took his “Who am I?! Rock n’ roll!” bit from Black on Both Sides a little too seriously. Much of The New Danger ignores the soulful, poetic/prophetic politicism of Mos’ first solo album and instead tries its hand at rap-rock schlock (which, it should be noted, is sooooooooo 2000).
But everything’s not lost, and The New Danger manages to salvage itself with a strong second half, beginning with “Sex, Love, and Money,” a swaggering hip hop anthem replete with fat strings and strip club bounce. Unfortunately, truly great moments like this aren’t as abundant here as they were with the charming Black on Both Sides, leaving Mos’ latest album slightly disappointing. It isn’t as if it’s without its highlights—”Modern Marvel,” which evolves from a soulful admission of weakness into an tribute to Marvin Gaye, one of Mos’ idols, is simply brilliant. But to find the truly great follow-up on The New Danger is to skip tracks constantly—at best Mos only manages to string together three great tracks in a row (“Sex, Love, and Money,” “Sunshine,” “Close Edge”) on an 18-track album.
Unfortunately, after becoming a successful actor and adding more musical projects to his plate, Mos Def seems to have distilled the power of his voice as an MC. Once the voice of a generation hopeful for a hip hop renaissance, Mos seems to have switched sides on us. It’s not as if he’s forgotten his roots, either—he remains vital to his hometown of Brooklyn—but in his attempt to take back rock as a black-born music, he’s focused on endorsing an integrity-less faction of the genre to get his points across. Instead, his point is muffled, because no one can be bothered to listen to “Zimzallabim” or “Freaky Black Greetings.”
Mos Def remains an underappreciated and valuable member of the hip hop community, and The New Danger still represents him well as a whole. It is incredibly difficult to follow an album with the class of Black on Both Sides, and a few mistakes don’t spell the downfall of The New Danger. But Mos Def still has work to do in hip hop, especially after five years out of the game. “I’m Mos-Definite / Not ‘think so’,” he reminds us on “Close Edge”. The music’s more powerful than your words, Mos. And the music seems a little uncertain.
