Pitchfork

Well, Q-Tip thinks it's booty. Booty? Booty. That's what it is. In fact, booty is just about all Q-Tip seems to think about these days. On his first effort since the separation of A Tribe Called Quest, Q-Tip makes the transition from the familiar pensive Abstract Poet, prominent like Shakespeare, to a different breed of MC who seems interested only in ruminations of the booty-esque. For purposes of simplification, we may postulate his Three Commandments of Booty, if you will:

1) Any booty located in or near a venue at which a Q-Tip joint is being broadcast shalt not refrain from both shaking in a frenzied manner and being scantily clad.

2) Any jeep-like motorized conveyance belonging to or operated by Q-Tip shalt not be lacking a satisfactory supply of booty, which may be employed in an erotic capacity.

3) Any personage whose lyrical flow is pertaining to booty and its ilk shalt not attempt to handle a microphone, nor shall said individual be let near such a device.

Unfortunately, the above sums up the content of Amplified's lyrics almost entirely. Gone from the wax is Abstract the storyteller and social critic. He's been replaced by a scarcely recognizable, sex-obsessed MC who declares: "While we're in the heat of the moment, fuck morality." This is a disconcerting metamorphosis, indeed. For years, Q-Tip was the paragon of taste, intellect, and awareness in hip-hop, dropping true wisdom through incredibly clever verse. But instead of maturing with age, Q-Tip has regressed substantially. His lyrics now float awkwardly between sexual fascination and indictment of "weakling rappers," and often in the same track. Of course, Q-Tip's delivery is still smooth like caramel, but his rhymes are markedly less crafty and more repetitive than any of his past works.

Of course, this is all relative. Even Q-Tip's not-so-relevant work on Amplified confirms his place in the highest echelon of lyricists-- despite the nature of his rhymes, his timing is unequaled. Amplified exhibits new methods of delivery for Abstract which demonstrate just how diverse his styles can be. Musically, most of Amplified sounds absolutely nothing like Tribe's material, but on tracks like "Let's Ride" and "Things You Do," a palpable Quest vibe emerges. The Ummah production crew lays down tracks which are less melodic and organic than typical Tribe fare, but are rhythmically frantic and induce abundant head nodding. It's a whole new realm for Q-Tip, replete with peculiar synthesized noises and rapidly administered samples, which he adapts to with such expertise that one can nearly forget the track featuring a guest appearance by Korn.

Yes, I said Korn. I'd like to shake hands with the genius who thought to couple Q-Tip with the water faucet drip of talent that is Korn. I mean, it's not like he spotted Korn puffing L's in kilts on the Ave in Queens and the notion just knocked him to the ground with its brilliance. Did he ask Richard Simmons for music advice? Could he be related to the mastermind behind such feats of intellect as Crystal Pepsi and "The Magic Johnson Show?" At any rate, it goes without saying that he's not exactly hitting them out of the park. Let us examine a brief encapsulation of Jonathan Davis' lyrical wizardry from "End of Time," a track on which Tip appears for probably 45 seconds: "It's kind of scary, you see/ How fucked up things can be/ Each time you take a breath/ Hell, it could be your last." Wow. If you need to stop reading for a minute in order to ponder this goldmine of metaphysical significance, please do so. Fortunately, this is followed by the excellent "Do It, See It, Be It," the only truly introspective track Amplified has to show for itself.

Ultimately, when faced with an artist who has produced such an extraordinary body of work within the context of a whole group, we can't pretend that his solo work should stand somehow beyond comparison with that of the group. Tribe had a positive group mentality that manifested itself through the message behind the music, and this element is painfully absent in Amplified. Without a crew whose virtues he may also extol, Q-Tip's self-praise comes off as exceedingly arrogant. And while the music is fresh and Tip's new look is slick, we know that Abstract has much more to bring to the table lyrically. Or does he? It seems that most people reach a certain age and, without warning, shed their talent. Only Q-Tip's next solo effort can be the true indicator of whether or not he's lost it.