What did you click here for? To read that Tyga’s new album is garbage? Well, it’s not! Did you click for the surprise that it’s not bloated self-aggrandizing contemporary corn syrup music, but actually a rare gem from the major label system? Well it’s not that either. Tyga, who previously had stood in half-lit fame with that god awful minor hit Coconut Juice, is now backed by YMCMB. This means all our favorite rap world personalities are here: Wayne, Drake, Nicki, Chris Brown, T-Pain, and Busta Rhymes. Surprisingly, none drown out Tyga within schematic of the well oiled money-making machine. Therefore Careless World: Rise of the Last King (what the fuck does that even mean?), is everything you expected to be: pristinely manufactured and calculated music from the young gunner (sorry Cory Gunz) on the biggest rap label in the dot.com world.
With the enjoyable “Rack City” flooding radio and the vapid sexual miasma of clubs everywhere, Tyga has already won in the current singles driven music market. Shit, the requisite remix-video (with the Fake Retna Art!) has already been rolled out. So what does Tyga offer beyond the modern day Hitsville farm? Honestly, nothing. Tyga just extends his derivative branches of Drake and Wayne rap-styles over perfectly groomed production to, at times, produce some very good music. Pharrell’s “Lil Homie” rolls through with its syrupy slap and sanguine horns to Thornton Brothers proportions as Tyga nicely holds down his end of the composition. The undeniable “Do It All” will also get many rap aficionados grooving to its refined chipmunk soul. Wale and Nas even lend verses to the buoyant sermon on “Kings & Queens”. These are the standout moments among some hit and miss pop-rap fun. And trust, there is fun: the Nicki-assisted “Stupid Hoe” step-child “Muthafucka Up” hits like energy drinks to the blood stream; “Potty Mouth” featuring Busta does the rap gymnastics thing; and “Let It Show” featuring J. Cole is some ol’ we doin’ good, but gunna do better rap.
Sure, there are more than enough songs to beat up on for their lack of originality, downright corniness, or yes-men misguidedness. Yet, the real problem with Carless World is that after 24 songs (that’s 80minutes of music!) you have no clear sense of who Tyga is as an artist. Beyond fly pussy, making money and eye-roll inducing street kid couplets, what hopes desires and dreams move his spirit? The ‘regular black kid’ wrapped around the hood camouflage of his Label has nothing to do with authenticity, and everything to do with it not being necessary. His glaring lack of substance when it comes to ideas/concepts concerning love and relationships doesn’t help matters either. Witless clichés fly from Tyga’s brain like the last 15 seasons of the Real World. What would’ve helped was cutting the album in half, focus on three or four cross-over records, and than allow Tyga the space to be who he is beyond the industry co-sings and major label glitz. There are some good moments here, but overall, rap fans should really care-less.