Let's be honest, 50 Cent has dug himself into a recording rut of which he can't escape. After a scintillating debut, 50 has not been able to reach the level of success he achieved just 6 years ago. At the time, we were ready to dethrone Jay-Z and Nas and anoint 50 as the new King of New York. Today, you'd be hard-pressed to pay people to take one of his albums off your hands. So how did 50 Cent fall so hard so fast?
To understand our current state, we must understood how we got here. 50 Cent rose out of Jamaica Queens around the turn of the century flanked by childhood friends Lloyd Banks and Tony Yayo, calling themselves the G-Unit. 50 already released an album in 2000, but it was weak even according to 50's standards. His style wasn't that much unlike Eminem's, though while Eminem took to insulting celebrities and pop-tarts, 50 went after rappers. For that reason, Eminem went on record in the fall of 2002 to say that "50 Cent is my favorite rapper." Not only was that one hell of an endorsement, it spurned mainstream listeners to look up this 50 Cent guy that not many had heard of. 50 and the G-Unit were killing the mixtape scene in 2002--the tapes were low-budget and low quality production, mostly beat-jacking and freestyles--but man were they good. Fif wasn't worried about what everyone thought of him, plus he was fresh so he had a lot to say. In November 2002 he teamed up with Dr Dre to record the soon-to-be first single, "In Da Club." The song killed. Everyone loved it, and for 8 months you could not get that song out of rotation (Sidebar: I went to the Bahamas for Spring Break in March 2003 and counted that clubs we visited played the song 37 times in 5 nights). The smash single mixed with the success of the mixtapes and Eminem's endorsement fueled this mega-machine that could not be stopped. Fans thirsted for 50 to record a studio album and the hype was bigger than Lebron's entrance to the NBA. Often with album releases, though, all the hype creates a giant snowball that grows each day and cannot be stopped. Then the release date is the hottest day of summer and that snowball evaporates instantly. Such was not the case with 50's debut, Get Rich or Die Tryin', which earned a perfect score from XXL and surpassed everyone's expectations. 50's brand was golden--he combined club hits and bangin' beats with his hard edge, hunger for beef, and this itty-bitty piece of street cred he earned after being shot 9 times and living to tell about it. All of this was displayed in an album deemed by many to be "perfect."
Drug-dealers-turned-rappers all face an unfortunate reality, though. They pour their heart and soul into the first album thinking it may be their only shot to make it big--and often it is the only shot. If successful, the lifestyle changes. These rappers no longer need to work the corners, rob and steal, and worry about where dinner is coming from. They get paid, they take care of their family and friends, buy a house in the 'burbs or a condo in the high-class part of the city, and maybe pick up a nice set of wheels. But drug-dealing and the everyday struggle are all they know, so when it comes time to record album #2, they revert to telling stories of those days. Unfortunately, even guys like me can see right through that nonsense. Don't tell me you walk around strapped and rough up your enemies for fun or for money. You know how I know it's not true? Because I saw you sitting courtside next to Spike at the Knicks game. I saw you on MTV Cribs. I saw you heading into Tryst with a 12-man entourage.
What does this have to do with 50 Cent? The Massacre in 2005 was a photocopy of Get Rich or Die Tryin'. "I'm Supposed to Die Tonight" was "Many Men" part II. "Disco Inferno" was "In Da Club" part II. "Piggy Bank" was "Back Down" part II. The album resembled the original, but also contained a lot of the feedback and residue associated with any photocopy. Fif reverted back to rapping about violence and drugs, and a lot of it wasn't believable anymore. By 2007, 50 was 4 1/2 years removed from his debut and even an outsider could tell he had changed as a person (which isn't a bad thing--it's actually good in 50's case). 50 was a corporate brand--he had a movie, a video game, Vitamin Water, a graphic design company, a clothing line, etc. Music wasn't his main source of income, and it didn't have to be. He was a well-oiled machine. Physically he even looked different. He wasn't cut up anymore--he was diesel. Dressed impecably. Spoke better. He set himself up for disaster by going head-to-head with Kanye West's Graduation on September 11, 2007, but the album was a disaster even beyond that. 50 himself changed, but his music did not. Curtis was a photocopy of The Massacre; it had even fewer quality songs and even more "feedback." The best song on the album was a track called "I Get Money" where 50 proved that you could rap about the corporate life and make it sound hard: "I took quarter water, sold it in bottles for two-bucks/Til Coca-Cola came and bought it for billions, what the f*ck?" Why he couldn't make the rest of the album with that mindset, I do not know. 2 years later, fans hope that 2009's Before I Self Destruct will feature 50 progressing beyond what we're accustomed to hearing from him. Unfortunately, the first track sets the disappointing tone and you discover that it's another photocopy of a photocopy.
Each album has been worse than its predecessor with no end in sight to this tumultuous downfall. I don't even know where to categorize this latest album in my mental rolodex--is it hip hop? Is it angry pop? Is it a new genre of crap? Fif needs to crumple his career from 2005-on into a ball, throw it across the room into a trash receptacle, and start over. Like the best often do, he needs to reinvent himself without losing himself. Keep a common thread in the brand but talk about real life, real issues, real THINGS. Mix it up a little for crying out loud. Perhaps he needs Taylor Swift to take him under her wing and proclaim "50 Cent is my favorite artist."
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