By Odeisel

Back in 2008 it was Murs for President, but now in 2011, it’s a different ballgame. The wild hair is gone, but what remains in effect are dope rhymes and a human radiance that powers his music. His latest project, wholly produced by Ski Beatz, is more of that contagious energy with a wider range of beats to rock over. The album features big band brass and various free-flowing musical elements that complement Murs’ personality.

Murs is a master storyteller, able to convey narratives with that “let me tell you what happened to Red ass the other day” aesthetic; transporting you to the scene of the crime, as on “67 Cutless,” a tale of an out of town trip that becomes a shroomed-out car vs. helicopter chase with a dead cop in the trunk. Rocket ships made out of ’64 Impalas and slinging dope to aliens with solar flare shotties? Look no further than “Epic Salutations” where Murs kicks that hardcore shit about nothing at all.”

A jazzy intro and a soliloquy brings in “Remember To Forget.” We look back at broken relationships remembering the good times, always forgetting the crap that made it fall apart in the first place. Murs injects just the right amount of emotion: a dash of bitter, and a pinch of defiance to pump the breaks of his ex. A West Coast Hip-Hop tribute comes on “Eazy-E.” Sparse keys and ambient synth give way to a delicious bassline and cymbal clashes. It’s clear that Murs loves the West Coast and he runs through the lineage of both NorCal and SoCal; mixing that history while touching social boundaries, gang culture, politics and the West Coast way of life.

Tabi Bonney drops by on good-feeling “Hip-Hop and Love.” Murs does his version of “Paris Tokyo” with the very jazzy “International.” The string and wind combination is part easy listening Lawrence Welk/ 70s game show, part funk with a slithering bassline that absolutely doesn’t belong but somehow ties the composition together. Murs recounts how being on tour kept him off the streets and probably saved his life. That mic has taken him all around the world, doing what he loves.

The horns and the bump get harder on “S-K-I-B-E-A-T-Z” with a similar melody but a drum doing the heavy lifting in place of the bassline. Murs has had enough of both boring book bag rap and the bitches and bricks fantasy rap delivered by sub-skilled rappers. He takes his stand, declaring “I lost the hair but I’m still on that abstract.” You can scalp the dreadlocks and he’ll still have strength. Persian punisher Locksmith drops bars with bad intentions on the cleanup leg of the track, merging ideas like Pac’s remember me like Kato with running the world like NATO.

The pace slows with a synth-heavy ode to California girls on “Westside Love,” with more horn-based sizzle on the breaks. Ab-Soul and O.C. stand and deliver on “Life And Time” atop Broadway-loud brass, an electric guitar and brash cymbal clashes over handclaps. The 360 deals, the illusions of industry shine and other pitfalls are put on blast.

The dripping organs and fringe psychedelia of “Reach Hire” is Murs’ line in the sand against the major label system, with newcomer Dee-1riding shotgun, on “Dream On.” Murs conjures “316 Ways” to kill the industry, taking aim at haters, wack rappers, bottom feeders, and 360. “Hip-Hop needed love so I put some God in it” roars Murs in the hardest track on the record.

The crowning achievement of the album is the closing note, “Animal Style,” a gripping narrative chronicling a high school gay love affair wrapped in pain and tragedy. Hip-Hop is often cast in a homophobic light but this track is evidence of the contrary, with distinct characterization and definitive humanization. By the time the song ends you have the full lives or everyone involved, their motivations and ultimately a story line that engenders sympathy for all involved. The song is masterfully done and wholly devoid of any anti gay sentiment, without the pandering to the gay community that plagues the music of acts like Lady Gaga.

There is an underlying theme on Love & Rockets that speaks to Murs’ underground success. He mentions more than once that he never had to change his style or suck dick to succeed and do well in Hip-Hop. Whether or not this stands as an admonishment to the major label system or a warning to the next artist willing to drop their pants for the promise of fame and fortune remains unclear. What is clear is Murs’ mastery of narrative, his songwriting skill, Ski’s range as a producer and most of all Murs’ love for Hip-Hop and Los Angeles.

4.25 Out of out of 5

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