T.I. may have dodged a bullet (get it?), but T.I.P. might have bitten the dust.
The self-proclaimed “King of the South,” Clifford Harris, aka T.I., has released his third album in three years, “Paper Trail,” following his 2006 breakthrough, “King,” and his slightly disappointing schizophrenic 2007 follow-up, “T.I. vs. T.I.P.”
What sets this album apart from the two previous are T.I.’s personal circumstances this time around. T.I. recorded and developed the majority of “Paper Trail” while under house arrest (for a ludicrous number of weapons charges) in his Atlanta home when he wasn’t recording bathrobe-clad video updates for his fans. As any artist would, T.I. attempts to turn his negative (multimillion dollar “prison”) circumstances into inspiration, writing down lyrics for the first time since his debut, “I’m Serious.”
What surfaces is a strange, yet expected renunciation of his T.I.P. persona. As explored on last year’s lie-down-on-the-couch “T.I. vs. T.I.P.,” the rapper we know as T.I. is really T.I.P., the street-bred convicted felon d-boy from Bankhead projects, as well as “T.I.,” the millionaire playboy in tailored suits that rapped on JT’s “My Love.” It appears that in the wake of T.I.’s much-publicized gun trouble, T.I. has decided to pursue some very necessary public-image repair by including more than a few songs that wholeheartedly disavow his “T.I.P.” past, as well as address his much-ballyhooed trial. These songs actually turn out to be some of the best on the album, as they force Cliff to distance himself from well-worn hip-hop territory and pull a Kanye (or Game) and make himself vulnerable.
The most glaring example is the closing track “Dead and Gone” featuring Justin Timberlake, where the hook expressly states “the old me is dead and gone,” while synth strings and pounding drums collide. It’s a fittingly dramatic and cinematic closer, and it sees T.I. genuinely contrite, advising listeners to think before they act and lamenting hot-headed decisions that have life-long consequences.
Whoa.
T.I. telling me to think before I act? This is the same guy who proclaimed on his last album “Boy you finna get hurt, mercked, put “˜em in the dirt,” while brandishing a baseball bat in a black and white warehouse in the video?
Clearly there’s a credibility issue here. But I’m inclined to believe him. Even though T.I. got off exceedingly light considering his charges and his record, I applaud any time a rapper steps outside of his ghetto-superman comfort zone.
However, even though T.I. seems to state that his hoodrat alter ego is dead, he hasn’t let go of it quite yet, as evidenced by the genuinely propulsive club-street hybrid “Swing Ya Rag,” supplied by the reliable Swizz Beatz, as well as Shawty Lo diss track “What Up, What’s Haapnin.'”
However, his two personas come together almost perfectly on the “street” single “No Matter What,” a pledge of fidelity to fans and to music. Whereas the personas are normally at odds on previous albums, on this song, T.I. seems at once determined and contrite, steadfast and yielding. The rolling organ, soaring synth lead, and natural-sounding drums supplied by Timbaland protégé Danja only aid the redemptive feeling.
There are other disposable pleasures on the album that showcase T.I.’s always-reliable flow. “Porn Star,” with a nearly indecipherable hook, has T.I. sweet-talking a lady over a Scott Storch-Middle Eastern beat that grooves along nicely.
The seemingly monolithic collaboration of “Swagga Like Us,” which features the pantheon of commercially successful rappers Jay-Z, Kanye West and Lil Wayne, is cool for the rap justice league it represents, but not so cool in execution. Kanye samples the now ubiquitous “Paper Planes,” and loops it into a muffled thump of a beat where T.I. dusts at least one half of his competition.
Overall, this album isn’t really a progression in style, as T.I. has never really been about experimental beats or updating his flow (simple vocabulary, outstanding sense of rhythm). It’s more about a change in sentiment and persona.
If T.I. really has killed T.I.P., or at least kept him around to help tell his old stories without glamorizing them, then we can expect a sonic leap forward to match his personal progress. In that capacity, the album fails to live up to its potential. But even though it’s not technically dazzling in beats or rhymes, “Paper Trail” is a step in the right direction.
E-mail Ayres at jayres@media.ucla.edu.