Grant JonesThe latest rapper to take a break from a successful acting career in order to release an album is Will Smith. After LL Cool J, Redman and Ice Cube all successfully proved last year that they hadn’t lost their ability to craft a good record, “Based On A True Story” is an altogether different beast given Will Smith’s controversial recent past. 2022 seems like a lifetime ago already, yet we all recall when the Internet went into meltdown when the boy bound for Bel Air left some fresh prints on the face of Oscars host Chris Rock, after making a joke at the expense of Jada Pinkett Smith (Will’s wife).
The introduction to this album directly references the infamous Oscars slap, with a contrived comedy sketch depicting a barbershop populated by characters opining on the actor’s fall from grace. It’s okay, but thinks it’s funnier than it really is.
“Based On A True Story” is a strange album, and one that offers very little insight into Smith’s life. On “You Lookin’ For Me?”, he prompts us to look for him on TV and Instagram, and asks the listener to “mind your business” when it comes to his relationship with his wife. The whole idea behind this album is to address years spent unravelling repressed psychological damage that Smith mentions in his interview with Sway, but there’s a lot of noise distracting us from how Smith truly feels. We don’t really learn much, or experience any of these darker moments in his life. If anything, this album sounds fun, and a distraction from what has been cited in the media rollout.
The playful flow on “Rave in the Wasteland” is bogged down by an overbearingly cinematic soundscape that wouldn’t sound out of place in one of his family-friendly movie entries. “Bulletproof” is undeniably commercial in its execution, but it reminds us of Smith’s affability when rhyming about something of actual substance:
“Yo, it’s hard being a gunslinger
Being trapped inside a fun singer
For three decades, I’ve been a sun bringer
You can sum me up on just one finger
Pick one, any one, they all apply to me
Whatever finger you pick, just don’t lie to me
‘Cause if we friends, you flip and do something fly to me
My body might stay, but you can say goodbye to me
Disloyalty to me is like a robbery
‘Cause when I love you, it’s like you hit the lottery
I am invincible, I am the anomaly
Whole world against me and it ain’t even bothering me”
The overarching bugbear that overshadows “Based On A True Story” is that it all feels a bit corny. The selection of guests only confirms this: Russ, Big Sean, Joyner Lucas. These are all corny rappers, or rappers that, for a certain generation, remain unconvincing. Given Smith is an emcee that dropped the Fresh Prince mantle in 1993, to adopt a slicker, less interesting version of his former self, “Based On A True Story” feels like a Will Smith album rather than a Fresh Prince one, but doesn’t have the famous samples that he traded on with his earlier albums. Musically, it’s more creative then, but when the most interesting part of a Will Smith album (post-Oscars controversy) is the music, there’s a problem.
He’s rhyming over trap on “Tantrum” to the point that it doesn’t even sound like Will Smith. There’s a lovely piece of flamenco Pop by India Martinez on “First Love” that’s disrupted by Smith doing his best Eminem impression. Speaking of which, Smith’s rapping inevitably reminds me of Eminem’s brilliant line “Will Smith doesn’t have to cuss to sell records, well I do, so f*** him and f*** you too”. Smith IS cussing on this album, and it feels just as forced as it did thirty years ago when Run-DMC did it. Some of the writing is scruffy too – “a star from West Philly to Parks and Rec, say he ain’t lost a step, you aren’t correct”. It’s meant to be “are correct” but the way it flows and sounds made me rewind that shit multiple times. This isn’t common but did stick in my memory, along with the overall feeling that Will Smith simply isn’t cool any more. Let’s be honest, his rap career was never cool after he shed the Fresh Prince moniker, but considering his status as a household name, primarily off of the globally successful Hollywood career he’s had, this parallel journey as an uncool rapper juxtaposes the characters he’s portrayed in film. In Bad Boys, Smith was cool. In Hitch he was funny. In Twelve Pounds, he was vulnerable. He doesn’t seem to retain any of these qualities in his raps, instead opting for a smorgasbord of soundscapes designed to mask what could have been a revealing, emotionally interesting rap album.
The storyteller who won Rap’s first Grammy back in 1989 is still here, he’s just hiding behind a lot of overproduced instrumentals, unnecessary guests and cloudy rhymes. Smith mentions a few times that he is an icon, and admittedly, he is, but considering this is meant to be an album with a concept built around a television season, and each song is an episode about his life, it’s not particularly captivating and would likely get cancelled afterwards. It wouldn’t be the first time.