Tha Carter III

Instead of hiding his bootleg-bred quirks in anticipation of the big-budget spotlight, he distills the myriad metaphors, convulsing flows, and vein-splitting emotions into a commercially gratifying package that's as weird as it wants to be; he eventually finds his guitar but keeps the strumming in check.

In which the prince of hip hop get a blessing from the king. [Sep 2008, p.110]

Tha Carter III is a monumental album full of powerful, self-defeating statements that obliterate rap’s internal logic without offering too much more than indifferent bong logic in return. Judged, however, as a collection of singles and quotable verses--the criteria on which we’ve been grading hip-hop records since the end of disco--Tha Carter III is an agonizing piece of work.

This isn't a mixtape, it's a suite of songs, paced and sequenced for maxaqimum impact.

He breaks language down into building blocks for new metaphors, exploiting every possible semantic and phonetic loophole for humour and yanking pop culture references into startling new contexts.

He's the man of the moment, but the disc's best moments strive for timelessness and attain it.

Tha Carter III hearkens to when rap meant rapp: Isaac Hayes talking for days about some girl he broke with, or Bobby Womack signifying while strumming a blues guitar.

For merely running in place, TC3 can be transfixing. But it is not enough. [20 June 2008, p.66]

One could easily pick and choose from the songs here to make a more coherent 12-track album; such a record would likely have more immediate impact. But it'd also be kind of painful to cut anything.

Now, equipped with the stylish, but too-often substance-less Tha Carter III, Lil Wayne seems poised to flip the script on the “rapper racists” (radio stations, MTV) by evolving into the “biggest” rapper alive.

It’s eclectic, eccentric and yes, essential.

Tha Carter III is scattershot, which oddly strengthens its faults, as if any lull in quality means that the next batch of producers can just reset the formula.

Tha Carter III soars because of Wayne’s to-date under-appreciated ability to turn himself down.

That said, it's not an instant classic, but it is the best rap album since Kanye West dropped "Graduation" last year.

It's Wayne's personality that both floats and sinks TC III.

There's an exhilarating, disorienting sense of freedom tot he album, the ruse of rules being ignored. [Aug 2008, p.79]

Though wrong and stupid kinda work (in a good way!), Tha Carter III is more a balanced, self-conscious synthesis of everything viably great about Lil Wayne, hyperbolic or not, than the penultimate statement of the MC’s “legendary” status.

With help from A-list guest stars (T-Pain, Robin Thicke) and producers (Kanye West, Swizz Beatz), Lil Wayne backs up the boasts [of "best rapper alive"] on the oft-delayed Tha Carter III.

Ultimately, Tha Carter III will have you believing in Wayne's greatness but wondering why, as often as not, he just isn't very good.

Maybe that's how we need to view this record--a little less anxious in our anticipation and balanced out with a little more enjoyment. Then, it just might be a classic.

All rappers ride on the claim that they’re the best, but on III Wayne makes his case.

The album is listenable, exciting and succeeds in reigniting interest in hip hop and rappers that dedicate their life to become great MC's, not just hustlers.

We should have known. If his raspy, cartoonish voice didn't mark him as different, his quick wit, offhanded wordplay and quirky subject matter should have in a genre populated largely by grim-faced imitators.

Gifted MC loses the run of himself without Mannie Fresh.