Mos Def

With a legion of diehard supporters waiting to see just which Mos Def would show up after 2004’s multidirectional New Danger experiment, one of hip-hop’s most archetypal representatives makes you question his continued desire to even hold a mic with his latest creative misstep, True Magic. The record’s complete lack of artwork, liner notes or promotion, for that matter, are all clear indications of what you can expect inside, as the album is characterised by a complete lack of artistic drive that makes you wonder why Mos even bothered and fuels speculation of the disc being simply a big, contract-fulfilling "fuck you!” to Geffen. The perennial Brooklynite employs the same lazy-ass flow as post-"retirement” Jay-Z, dropping half-written rhymes and two-minute vamps over beats recycled from previous releases by MF Doom (for lead cut "Undeniable”) and the GZA. Choice rhythms like the seedy grit behind "Thug Is The Drug” and the mellowed groove of "Fake Bonanza” are entirely undone by the MC’s apparent indifference to the entire project, with even the reactionary post-Katrina heat of "Dollar Day” seeming decidedly less profound here. If and when this utterly cynical release does see the light of day in Canada (which is now questionable), you’d do well to save your money.