Bona fide rap hit-makers attempting to go "street" again often embarrass themselves worse than any pair of parachute pants can. Just ask anyone who bought Hammer's The Funky Headhunter for non-ironic reasons.
LL Cool J never has had to resort to "Addams Family Groove"-type cash cows, but he's been about as easy of a target in rap as the much-maligned superstar. Although his most recent adversary, Canibus, will be remembered best for his track accompanying the credits in "Office Space," his line "99 percent of [LL's] fans wear high heels" holds more than a kernel of truth. After all, with the exception of the now-infamous "4,3,2,1," LL's recent hits have upped his street credibility about as much as having a sitcom on the WB did.
Calling himself the "Greatest of All Time" while releasing "Imagine That" - a "Doin' It"-style track - as the first single seems like his worst idea since naming his 1993 album "14 Shots To The Dome." But "G.O.A.T." rocks bells throughout. Don't skip the intro and you'll find out why. Rather than the usual self-congratulatory skit, we get LL ripping through a minute and a half of a profanity-laced invective, declaring "2001 is mine by law."
And all of a sudden, we have Kangol-wearing Cool J back. "Jack the Ripper" LL Cool J. The LL Cool J who claimed he was hard as hell and had "Bad" years before Michael Jackson did.
Don't let his multimedia stardom fool you; this album is not simply a plug for Brand LL. "G.O.A.T." is more inspired than the latest offerings from Ice Cube, Busta Rhymes, Will Smith and all Shaq albums combined. It's filler-free, excepting one skit where Redman dutifully informs me that my mother plays guitar for D'Angelo. News to me.
With the exception of the futuristic title track, the beats on G.O.A.T. rarely outshine LL. He reminds us that MC Shan and Kool Moe Dee might still have careers if it wasn't for him. LL goes back to foul-mouthed battle rhymes with astounding results, particularly on "Back Where I Belong," in which he runs victory laps around Canibus' commercial grave: "Me and Wyclef/Got together to set you up/He gave me half your budget/Don't believe me?/Look it up/Your A&R ... helped me hook it up./" Uncle L goes on the offensive against rap critics, disrespectful youngsters and even "Any Given Sunday" co-star Jamie Foxx: "You ain't as funny as Chris Rock."
Despite the presence of many bankable rhymers, you almost wish LL kept more of "G.O.A.T." to himself. "Back Where I Belong" contains some of his fiercest lyrics yet, but the chorus seems forced. And no matter how erotic helium-voiced Amil gets on "Hello," it sounds like an obscene phone call from Alvin and the Chipmunks. LL is complemented better by Prodigy of Mobb Deep on the civic-pride anthem "Queens Is" and DMX, Method Man and Redman bring back the pass-the-mic vibe of "4,3,2,1" on "Fuhgidabowdit."
Lest we forget, ladies still love Cool James and vice versa. In this realm he is the "G.O.A.T.," and a randy one at that. He goes heavy on the fantasies, whether phone-sex ("Hello") or role-playing ("Imagine That") without being too graphic. "This Is Us" studies a failing relationship, but it never devolves into standard chickenhead-bashing.
Call it a Dr. Dre complex, but LL is best when he's in doubt. He followed up his biggest flop, 1989's "Walking With A Panther," with the classic "Mama Said Knock You Out," and "G.O.A.T." is his strongest album since. He's a mixture of bad boy and loverboy, often in the same song. The slow jams may have paid his bills, but tracks like "LL Cool J," in which he boasts that his doubters "get a car bomb/For being overcritical when Uncle come on," separate him from Will Smith status. LL has outlasted the Running Man, afros and damn near every other trend, but he rarely is considered the greatest by anyone but himself. "G.O.A.T." may not put him on the level of Biggie or Rakim, but the important thing is that it reopens the case for discussion.