The Game - L.A.X. (draft 1)

It can't be easy being The Game, one of the more disturbing by-products of America's gangsta rap infatuation. After being shunned by both Dr. Dre and 50 Cent in 2005 and a series of breakup style records and disses throughout the subsequent three years, Jayceon Taylor seems to have found his new idol in Nas. Not only do they appear on eachother's most recent records, Let Us Live featuring Chrissette Michelle sounds like a lost song from the It Was Written era. He's not exactly blubbering apologetically beside Busta Rhymes (yet) but the childlike aping of Hip-Hop's elite continues to hinder Game's talent.

Game's obvious deficiencies are on show throughout L.A.X. from the borderline-moronic pick-up lines of Gentleman's Affair (Girl fuck your friends / matter of fact I want to fuck your friends positively reeks of charisma, clearly) and the consistent name and brand dropping to his insistence of remaining steadfast to the tried and true West Coast blueprint. Doctor's Advocate remains a high point in which Game engulfed himself in music that sounded more like Dre than Dre himself in an cathartic attempt to deal with the supposed abandonment of one of Hip-Hop's longest lasting, respected producers. It also caught the rapper in the midst of committing career suicide, firing scattershot disses to the then-industry juggernauts, G-Unit. Game's self-destruction was utterly fascinating and voyeuristic but also revealed that underneath the most meticulously crafted and marketed rapper since 50 Cent lay an immensely talented, spiteful MC. 300 Bars and Running still stands as one of the most scathing disses in Hip-Hop history yet the spirit behind that record never surfaces on L.A.X.. Instead we're treated by another album heavy on radio-ready singles and overwrought reflective songs like My Life that hardly sound convincing or emotional.

As much as he tries, though, Game can't help but let his attention-starved inner child shine. Dope Boys combines one of the strangest single choices in recent history (A Milli notwithstanding) with the album's sole creepy reference to Dre. Threats of home invasion are still a step up from a pseudo-breakup album, though. Bulletproof Diaries features Raekwon, Hip-Hop's fabled lost hope, combining Staten Island's 'artifact' with a bizarre, catchy beat from the under-appreciated Jelly Roll. House Of Pain and Angel step back to the G-Funk vibes of the early 90's as DJ Toomp and Kanye West provide Dre-style much better than any of his recent output. Never Can Say Goodbye puts Game's imitative qualities to good use by providing Pac, Biggie & Eazy-E style verses in describing their tragic last days. Game pays homage to, imitates and raps as his idols over the entire album and it isn't until the last song, Letter To The King (featuring a rejuvenated Nas), that he finally plays himself. Subsequently, it's the most honest song on L.A.X. and hopefully signals the start of something new.

If L.A.X. proves anything it's that Game is a master of disguise. Whether it's the reflective, violent 50 Cent-style persona of The Documentary or the vocal imitation of Dr. Dre throughout Doctor's Advocate, The Game himself only erratically displays any originality through his commercial releases. L.A.X. is an obvious attempt to capitalize on the suicidal rapper hype that helped his last album achieve success without so much as a top 10 single. Despite (uniformly) fantastic beats and a solid set of songs, L.A.X. still misses the mark on what makes the rapper so fascinating, masking his faults with a bevy of guests and singles. If he can't achieve success on his own merits The Game might as well be consigned to the same fate as G-Unit.