By shelz.

The power behind Wiz Khalifa’s ascension has been his ability to produce without trying too hard.  A slacker attitude complete with little forethought past what brand of weed the crew would be blazing that day, and a gift for bagging your bitch without chasing her, are delivered with a laugh and a shrug. The material, instead of sounding half baked, is full of stoner joie de vivre and a bit of youthful wisdom. Its music to party to for youngsters who can’t relate to the likes of Snoop or Devin, and Wiz has ridden that lane all the way to the big time on his first major release, Rolling Papers.

His patented phlegmatic delivery doesn’t read as the restrained party soundtrack of a mild mannered marijuana fan, it comes off as lethargic and uninspired.  Ironically enough, this could be a case of trying too hard.  Wrapping Hip-Hop into a candy-coated pop shell isn’t anything new, but the selection of which artist to twist in that direction becomes stranger by the moment (Nicki and Lupe were both head scratchers.)  In an attempt to fit a round peg into a square hole, the powers that be behind Rolling Papers have sent Wiz Khalifa out into the world holding one hell of an underwhelming album.

Funny thing is, there aren’t a ton of missteps except  Wiz’s crooning on the bulk of the hooks.  There are no tracks that stand out as the culprits of Rolling Papers’ downfall.  The LP just isn’t interesting enough to be that kind of bad.

“When I’m Gone” opens the album with a melancholy piano that builds slowly into synth stabs and a frenetic digital vibration, while Wiz explains that his subject matter is limited because broads and weed are all he knows.  It’s honest and foreboding at the same time.

His platinum single, “Black and Yellow” stands as an odd monument to what Khalifa is capable of in the midst of what he actually did.  Its energy and bounce wake the album up from its jaded haze, but it’s a short reprieve from the ambient fog.

The intro to “Hopes and Dreams” is so encouraging, but doesn’t make good on its promise.  It’s just more humdrum production with Wiz singing and rapping about the money he plans to burn through and some random girl who seems to have appeared out of nowhere to disappear just as quickly.

The album takes an interesting turn halfway through with “Wake Up” and “The Race.” There isn’t any real diversion from the sonic theme.  Dreamy synth plays foundation to some stickier digital work on the former.  The latter incorporates some distorted digital guitars and layers that fill the track out nicely.  It’s the same aesthetic, just better construction.  The lyrical themes tap into the bad parts of the fame.  Concerns about posers and haters who infiltrate the circle, respect for the elders and the disquieting revelation that all the hype comes with negative circumstances. It’s a sober moment in the weed fest and Wiz at his introspective best.

There aren’t a bunch of features on Rolling Papers, which usually is a plus.  However, with Khalifa’s leisurely flows and production, the album may have benefited from a few more folks chipping in.  Too $hort, Chevy Woods and Curren$y add some texture to “On My Level,” “Star of the Show,” and “Rooftops” respectively just by being there and in two of the three cases outshine the host.  (Too Short still talking about scooping easy hoes at the club is exhausting.) However, that Beats By The Pound-like foundation might be the most interesting thing on this album.

“No Sleep” bears an odd and amusing sonic resemblance to Rebecca Black’s “Friday.” “Get Your Shit” is another song that starts with a hopeful intro only to disappoint, and ladies please know Wiz doesn’t believe flucking a few girls on the side is cheating.   “Top Floor” has an interesting, almost slow-mo island like foundation, but swathed on top is a distracting, looped digital voice sample that sounds like Miss Swan.

Wiz channels Travie Mccoy’s sun and sand easiness on “Fly Solo” with capable results as he ponders fair weather friends and the difference between being alone and lonely. “Cameras” is an attempt at electro-pop and Wiz’ reflective in an after school special kind of way closer.  Minus the profanity, weed and tales of panties dropping this could easily make Kids Bop.

Rolling Papers is another major rap release that has meandered from the rap realm into the genre melting pot.  Yet, instead of celebrating multitudes of musical styles, it paints them all beige.   The album has bright spots, but outside of them hovers in the same safe, languid range.  It’s good for the fast food music aficionado but is hardly a keeper for those who wanted more than simple pop pandering.

wiz khalifa hopes and dreams

2.75 out of 5