The newest album from Tupac Shakur, the Elvis of Generation X, is a mere phantom of the rap legend's former work. Forget all those bogus sightings and conspiracy theories: Tupac's latest of many posthumous releases, "One Nation," is conclusive proof that the rapper is six feet under. Featuring hip-hop "supergroup" Boot Camp Clik, this album would never have seen the light of day under Pac's discerning eye. Its tracks are uncharacteristic of the artist's usual West Coast thug love, preaching unity between coasts and the "one nation" of hip hop. To understand the strange theme of the album and the reason it took 13 years to complete, one must rewind to 1996.
That summer, Tupac invited Boot Camp Clik, a burgeoning rap group from Brooklyn, to his home in California to begin recording "One Nation," an album crafted with the intention of putting all East Coast/West Coast conflict to rest, once and for all. Unfortunately, the conflict grew into something that no Tupac or Biggie song could control. Words were twisted, violence escalated and suddenly, the only West Coast reply that made sense was Tupac's hit single of the same year, "Hit 'Em Up." "One Nation" was scrapped and soon, two of the greatest rappers alive became two of the greatest rappers killed violently in their primes. "One Nation" never made sense during Tupac's doomed life and proves to be even less relevant 13 years later.
On an album that is the sore thumb of Tupac's posthumous discography, there are still several gems that recall the late rapper at his revolutionary best. "Tattoo Tears," the second track on "One Nation," is a classic song about struggle. Even when Tupac raps about the stresses of his life and being "blazed out shedding tattoo tears," he still finishes verses with his trademark cocky laugh.
This charming, lighthearted approach does not carry over into "Military Minds," the single off of "One Nation." As one of the few tracks on which Boot Camp Clik shines, "Minds" has all four members of the Clik going verse for verse with Tupac. The "call to arms" feel of this track seems out of place in today's world of hip hop, which is more focused on money, cash and hos, but Tupac's raw anger and passion when he shouts "death before dishonor" is still unmatched.
The final highlight track moves away from a ghetto army toward pleasing women, a topic Tupac always broached successfully. "How Do You Want It" is a hypnotic reworking of a classic track, infused with just enough sex appeal for Tupac's female listeners. Above a beat that sounds suspiciously like Clipse's "Grindin'," Tupac's old crew, the Outlawz, accompany him with biting rhymes and self-assured delivery.
Surprisingly, two of the biggest disappointments of "One Nation" are the tracks that feature the most renowned guest acts. One would expect "House of Pain," a collaboration with Notorious B.I.G., to be a clever fusion of styles, but the track lacks both excitement and wit. Rapping lamely about life on the street, neither rap giant reaches the potential they are clearly capable of. The bar is set even lower with "Worldwide Dime Piece," a track featuring a very young and very immature Snoop Dogg. With content mainly focusing on all their hos in different area codes, the track is far too trite and forgettable for musicians of Snoop and Pac's caliber. Forgettable is a word that should never be used in the same sentence as Tupac, but this album does not deserve a better description.
Listening to "One Nation" brings to mind a Dave Chappelle skit that pokes fun at the rapper's post-mortem releases. Chappelle creates a fake Tupac song with the chorus, "I wrote this song a long time ago/ It was the dopest song I ever wrote ... in '94..." This jab epitomizes the unfortunate turn Pac's legacy has taken in recent years. With albums being released for the purpose of earning money and exploiting public fascination with the rapper's death, artistic integrity is no longer a factor in Tupac's latest work. Tupac chose to shelf "One Nation" in 1996, and that decision should have been respected in 2009.
