Jay-Z loses some gangster cred

The concept behind Jay-Z's new "American Gangster" album was simple. After watching a preview of the new Ridley Scott film of the same name, chronicling the rise and fall of real-life Harlem drug lord Frank Lucas, Jay-Z was inspired to record an entire album in homage. The conceit is shrewd marketing but otherwise, it's a cursory gesture. The album rarely engages the film's narrative or characters, save for a few, obligatory references and dialogue samplings.

More important, Jay-Z long ago had built a successful career dramatizing drug lords in his music.

Jay-Z rose to fame off his vivid, crack-era narratives. A former minor drug dealer himself, he's milked those hustler credentials for every album since. In the Bizarro World of street cred, though, becoming one of hip-hop's greatest rappers is an accolade Jay constantly downplays. On "No Hook," he rhymes, "Don't compare me to rappers / compare me to trappers / I'm more Frank Lucas than Ludacris." The claim is rather, uh, ludicrous given how, between running a major record label (Def Jam), appearing in national ad campaigns (Budweiser and Hewlett-Packard) and dating a megastar (Beyonce), Jay's not "more" like ex-drug pushers, current rappers or anyone else for that matter.

The new album arrives less than a year after the relative disappointment of "Kingdom Come," his "comeback" album after retiring in 2004. "American Gangster's" naked desire to be a return to street-seasoned form doesn't quite smack of desperation, but its nod to the movie isn't matched by an album that feels either cinematic in scope or well-scripted in design.

That doesn't mean Jay doesn't display a few flashes of genuine panache and power in musing on "the life." "Roc Boys" is a energetic rundown of the tools of the hustler's trade: "Thanks to the duffel bag / the brown paper bag / the Nike box for holding all this cash." Likewise, on "Success," his pairing with former rival Nas, Jay's couplets create a compelling counter-rhythm to producer No I.D.'s screaming organ vamps: "Broad daylight / I off your on-switch / you're not too bright / good night / long kiss."

Elsewhere though, some of the production is surprisingly square and listless, especially on "Pray" and "American Dream." And for a rapper who name-checks Robert De Niro three times, Jay-Z's own performance is less than riveting. The clever wordplay and agile flow are still there but much of it sounds like something heard before, only better. In the end, "American Gangster" doesn't inspire passionate derision but it is phlegmatic enough to engender shrugged indifference. For Jay-Z, the latter may be worse.