Dylan Masvidal | Staff Writer
Nope, I’m not gonna do it.
I refuse to waste a single word on the “thing” you all expect me to reference.
That being said, Will Smith is undeterred in his attempts to repent for the incident.
Except now he’s decided to go back to the art form where the public began to take notice of his star power: hip-hop.
What was undoubtedly his first love before the lights, cameras and action swept him away to Bel-Air has now become an outlet for him to cleanse himself of any lingering regret.
Complete with motivational bracelets and countless televised performances, Smith left no stone unturned in the buildup to “Based on a True Story”, his first album release in exactly 20 years.
But this is a very different artist from the one audiences last heard in 2005.
Instead of bitter responses and catchy grasps at the glory days taking up the runtime, this return home is a spiritual one.
A choice that does Smith no favors whatsoever.
Oddly enough, the album’s opening skit “Int. Barbershop – Day” would have you assuming an entirely different direction, one where Smith brushes off the controversies and criticisms thrown at him over the past few years like it was dirt on his shoulder, à la Jay-Z.
Never in an infinite realm of possible outcomes could I have predicted an F-bomb on a Will Smith album.
The human mind simply isn’t designed to reach such a conclusion, especially from someone who used to censor himself on his own songs.
This devil-may-care bravado continues on the following track, “You Lookin’ For Me”, albeit with a clunky chorus and a paint-by-numbers trap beat that is thankfully saved by room-shaking choir vocals.
Smith’s charismatic rapping delivery and veteran flow have yet to escape him though, making his decision to drop his recognizable charm in favor of milquetoast Christian rap all the more disappointing.
There’s something about “Rave in The Wasteland” that makes my stomach churn, with its grossly overproduced sound and market-tested lyrics.
The blatant pandering isn’t the issue here, as Smith has always been a rapper who took pride in being accessible.
What is a glaring downside is his infectious personality being stripped away in favor of empty religious platitudes.
Let’s face it: Smith’s pen isn’t sharp enough to tackle his faith in an exciting or uplifting manner like a Kendrick Lamar or even a Big K.R.I.T., so the album nosedives into mediocrity almost immediately and never truly makes it back above ground.
It’s not easy to do so either when the production behind these tracks makes my eyes glaze over.
You’d think a performer of Smith’s prestige would have only the finest of beats to work with due to his Rolodex being thicker than a Leo Tolstoy novel.
Alas, squeaky-clean leftovers from an EA Sports soundtrack (“Bulletproof”) and lifeless dancehall rhythms (“Make It Look Easy”) haunt the record on every corner.
The one time I felt the album’s intended vision was met effectively was “Beautiful Scars”, featuring Big Sean.
Smith’s determination to speak to the listener’s soul is at its most genuine and moving on this track without sacrificing his whimsy, passionately unlocking a new gear in his flow while dropping clever punchlines (“I wrote the code, I’m Mr. Smith”).
Sean’s verse ties nicely into the theme of confidently overcoming one’s past losses as well as the song’s production exhibits a certain level of grit and human effort not present in the previous cuts I mentioned.
“Based on a True Story” frustrates me more than it should.
All signs point to chalking this up as a below-average comeback album from an aging megastar.
Only, Smith is still an artist I continue to blindly root for.
Call it nostalgia or an innate desire to cheer for the underdog; just don’t call it misguided.
Smith has proven time and time again that he’s a world-class entertainer in the face of adversity.
His current problem lies in translating blockbuster juice to a palatable album, something he once excelled at.
3/10
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