Just in it for the music: Lupe counters rap’s notions of “cool”

I love when music makes me think. And not just “this is good”-type thinking, but rather the… I love when music makes me think. And not just “this is good”-type thinking, but rather the “this makes me think about life in a new and enlightening way!” variety.

That said, rapper Lupe Fiasco’s new album, The Cool, challenges our entire notion of what it means to be, well, cool in the rap world. Fiasco looks around at the culture that fostered his art and sees, beyond any doubt, that it just ain’t cool anymore.

The rims, the clothes and the jewelry, while certainly a bit excessive, can stay, but the bragging about violence, about the drug trade and about the booty of every bitch and ho has got to go.

And the way we all – from the white suburban teens who feel tough listening to hip-hop to the real-life gangsters who live the lifestyle every day – accept rap culture as the standard for what is cool has allowed the most vile aspects of society to define it.

Before we delve too deep into the philosophical aspects of Mr. Fiasco’s brilliant brand of hip-hop, allow me to talk music for just a moment.

The Cool is Lupe’s follow-up to his debut, Food and Liquor, the record that got him labeled as the alternative rapper who liked to skateboard thanks to the hit “Kick, Push.” While Food and Liquor boasted solid tracks, Fiasco’s new album will make you forget your iPod’s capability to skip songs.

On every bar of every song, Lupe’s raps are intelligent, complex and downright fantastic as he toys with speed, rhythm and rhyme scheme, choosing to either draw a single rhyming syllable out for an entire verse or pack an explosion of rhymes into just a few lines.

His beats are dense, smoky and dark, favoring piano loops, strings and soulful choral parts over any of the simple, rumbling bass and hand-clap nonsense of the trash rappers who consistently occupy the Top 40.

And with 19 tracks of hip-hop mastery, paired with the fact that Fiasco’s rhymes are as thought-provoking as a good book, The Cool may just be the best rap music to hit the scene since Soljaboytellem.com. Kidding, kidding – that wasn’t an album, it was a waste of plastic.

The Cool is a concept album for sure, but not in the sense that it tells a story. Instead, it brings up concepts for the listener to examine, to tear apart and to re-evaluate, constantly asking the questions, “Is this really cool?” and further, “What does it mean to be cool?”

A voice opens the disc with a poetic diatribe that addresses the core concept of the disc: “They thought it was cool to leave you thirsty and stranded/ Katrina!/ They think it’s cool to stand on the block / hiding products in their socks / making quick dime bag dollars/ They think it’s cool to ride down on you in blue and white unmarked cars, bustin’ you upside the head/ Freeze