No Wealth of Great Ideas To Be Found On Chief Keef's "Finally Rich"

I think it's safe to say that after hearing "Finally Rich", the debut "effort" from Chicago, Illinois rapper Chief Keef the Mayans were spot on about their prophecy about the world coming to an end. There wasn't one thing about any of the tracks on this CD that made me feel anything other than underwhelmed. Not that the market couldn't use one more artist waxing on and on about his bling, wagging a finger at his bitch, or getting high on something with someone. Throughout this ordeal you'll hear various cheaply processed rhythm keepers. Essentially we're talking two flavors of drum kit. Either it's movie soundtrack overkill or underplayed keyboard with just enough gratuitous bells and whistles to delude only the extremely delusional into actual belief that something mind blowing is coming your way. The only way to do justice to this pile of sludge is to communicate with it lyrically. "Hate Being Sober" conveys the sentiments I'm sure every struggling mother from the projects wants to hear one of her offspring spouting. The man wholeheartedly admits he dislikes being sober while in the same lyrically hot zone reports he's so drunk he can't even spell sober. You'd want him out with your daughters, right? Keef's delivery is about as lazy as the content. Want me to prove it? How about "Ballin?" His droning utterance of the word is about as uncomfortable as your physician tongue depressor jimmying open your mouth for the mandatory looksie and then leaving it in there for about twenty minutes. True, that likely isn't possible, not without risk of malpractice suit being filed from your family's end but the same nagging "ah" sound comes to mind. As you might expect even after the rap community has sprung it on all of us for what's likely going on the million and first time, this track centers on Keef's extremely affluent life and how he doesn't want some identity deprived bitch calling him up. Why said bitch would've given him a tumble in the first place is one of those mysteries I guess I'm too damn stupid to know but that's the conundrum before us. Another generous (!!) portion of self-worship oozes into view courtesy of "Laughin' To The Bank". This one's complete with phony baloney "ha-ha-has" as part of the buildup. Lucky for us his misogynist streak came back long enough to tell some other bitch he seems acquainted with that she can "suck his cock like a BOP, BOP, BOP". If this blog was equipped with Smell-O-Vision the next stimulation you'd get would be a stench on par with what a freshly used toilet would reek of. I'm not a hater of hip-hop. Really I'm not. But in my capacity as writer I don duel roles as creative force and judge sitting at the keyboard/bench. I'm not sure what maddens me more...that record execs actually sign these empty-skulled cretins to make "music" for the express purpose of lining their wallets or that the artists themselves are thick enough to think someone of any intellectual fiber would honestly put bullet holes through one hour of their lives just to discover that we as a species haven't evolved entirely from Neanderthal times. Not that you'd only have "Finally Rich" as an example but it's a scathing wag of the finger regardless. If you feel dirty after listening to this CD in its entirely well then good for you. That means somewhere inside your souls you were in fact taught right from wrong and are committed to living your lives in this fashion. "Finally Rich" won't make anyone feel wealthier for the listening experience. In fact you're better taking at least one shower and maybe as many as three. That way the filth that's been allowed to accumulate on you during the time you listened will wash off more easily.