DMX demonstrates depth

by Jay Boehmer
Staff Writer

At times such as this when popular music seems fickle and shallow, DMX releases an album that demonstrates depth. On The Great Depression, the Ruff Ryder turned poet and thug turned impresario, returns with 15 tracks that run the gamut of emotions. A separate mood comes with each song, but angry, hopeful, aggressive or subtle, The Great Depression is convincing.

While most rappers rhyme about platinum jewelry and Bentley's, DMX actually has something to rap about. And it's not contrived. The album's not about "bling-bling," status or image. It's down to earth, emotionally raw and remains somehow accessible. Things that popular music lacks.

The album opens with "Sometimes," a spoken-word confessional that bears the soul of DMX. No beats. No bass line. Just the rapper and his aggressively husky voice. The track is naked and sparse but effective as DMX shows concern and insecurity about life. It's a thoughtful song that unveils feelings often ignored.

The sparseness of the first track is paradoxically placed next to the sonic boom of the second. Loud and aggressive, "School Street" proves that DMX is back and mad as hell. The song is followed by "Who We Be," one of the highlights of the album. Using a Miles Davis sample and rapping with staccato precision, DMX fires words with the rhythm of machine gun fire that hits the target right on.

However, his vocal aggressiveness and larger-than-life persona are dropped on several occasions throughout the album. "When I'm Nothing" is smooth Rhythm and Blues that utilizes a funky, almost disco, sound. R&B vocalist Stephanie Mills joins DMX for the hook that becomes more infectious with each listen. On "You Could Be Blind" a jazzy guitar riff bounces under DMX's vocals. Rock & rollers should take note: one of the better guitar riffs recorded recently is on a rap album.

On "I Miss You" a mourning DMX laments over the death of his grandma. Sad and sincere, the rapper who is normally heard barking loudly on stereos at parties and over car speakers is now comforting and understanding.

Despite being titled the The Great Depression the album ends on a positive note. "A Minute For Your Son" shows a hopeful and forgiving person talking to an estranged father.

The album contains no inane "skits," or simulated dramas between songs that have become too prevalent on rap albums. Instead of annoying chatter that warrants no more than one listening, DMX relies on the strength of his songs and his ability as a rapper from the album's open to close. The album consists of nothing but music — hooks, beats, vocals — with minimal filler. A seemingly impossible feat in music.