The Great Lil Wayne Debate: Is Tha Carter III A Classic?

Intro by Jonah Weiner
Opinion: Nick Sylvester
Opinion: Josh Eells
Opinion: Robert Christgau
Opinion: Jonah Weiner
Opinion II: Nick Sylvester
POLL: Which track on Tha Carter III do YOU think is the best?

Fellow Rock Critics—

So I’m supposed to provide the summation, eh? Fat chance, especially with this open-ended character, who as Jonah informed us just rematerialized or whatever you call it today with the online-only six-minute Carter III “bonus cut” “Whip It,” which I just streamed and then downloaded (free! hey! It worked!) because Jonah loves it. More than me, so far, but you know, I’m not a quick study—no instant judgments, very pre-blog. Yesterday I refused even to finalize on the album. But having first softened myself up with saturation listening and then decompressed by spending the evening with a lot of New Orleans and related Latin tinge piano (first at a private chamber concert, then on CD at home), I woke up this morning raring to go. I was going to take notes on every track, get my m-b-c around every one. Only by the time I got to “A Milli,” track three, I was weary. Where was that rush I get when I bear down on music by artists this good? “3 Peat,” “Mr. Carter,” “A Milli”—all creditable. But no rush. Then came “Got Money,” which soon revealed itself as my least favorite track here even though I have nothing against T-Pain (come on, guys, it’s no “Low”) and “Comfortable” (“I would never 1-2-3-4get you”? Come on.) Then my wife woke up and made tea and I took a long break, depressed. Etran Finatwa at breakfast, not a great Sahara album, was a relief.

A few hours later I came back and fell in love. Not with the whole album—my read at the moment is that it starts slow, peaks for five terrific songs in the middle, and then recedes enjoyably enough. The game-changer—Weezy’s North Carolina—is the hilarious “Dr. Carter,” which I think Nick nails as far as he goes, peaking with the glorious “He’s a doctor. You can’t read his writing” (only I’m not sure whether that’s a Weezy line I missed or Nick’s own—perfect either way). There’s more, though. Skit part’s essential, especially Weezy’s wearily idiomatic “ach”s when the nurse details the patients’ ailments. More important, not only is Weezy an ineffective doctor, he’s KILLING bad rappers—murdering dem, with malpractice. And most important of all, the beat, which I found so rich I checked out David Axelrod’s “The Smile,” which it samples. The effective string part I figured. What killed me was that the hyperactive drums and off-center bass were also there, near as I can tell chopped and looped to be much crazier by Swizz Beats. Nick, we do all know and basically agree about this East Coast words-versus-music stuff; that’s what my apostrophe on “Intro” said yesterday. “Dr. Carter” wouldn’t be such an up if the lyric wasn’t so maniacal. But the lyric itself can’t carry the song, and for me isn’t even at the center of its excitement. Rather, it’s the l-m-c (that one means lyrics-music continuum, you figure out the other). “Dr. Carter” is a song. That’s how most songs work.

I love the next three tracks too, in “Mrs. Officer,” “Phone Home,” “My Hands Are Tied” order (Robin Thicke gets best cameo award here, ahead of both Jay-Z and Betty Wright). But my favorite track on the record is the other Kanye West production, apparently a two-bar loop Wayne added drums to: “Let the Beat Build.” Once again, the music carries the track—as I said last time, one reason Wayne’s mixtapes rule is that they jack proven beats that only the novelty snobs who so distort both alt-rock and beatmaking are tired of. It just builds and builds. But it wouldn’t build as effectively if the rhyming wasn’t Wayne at his best. Let me quote one, er, let’s call it a quatrain, though I could also just say credo: “I can see the end of the beginning/So I’m not racin’ I’m just sprintin’/’Cause I don’t wanna finish/They diminish, I replenish.”

Nick says Carter III is really a mixtape. I say no mixtape has a “Got Money,” a “Comfortable,” a “Lollipop” (which I’m warming to, I think). Those songs turn it into a Statement—about pop, really. Josh thinks that statement is also a kind of salvation. I doubt it—like Jonah, I want more excess because excess is Wayne’s gift. But there’s enough excess, contradiction in terms thought that may be. With Wayne, contradictions in terms are specialite de maison. Mighty cootie fiyo.

RC

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