My Gut Reaction: Fat Joe - The Elephant In The Room (March 11, 2008)

Nothing says “I’m back! Sort of!” on this blog like picking up a loose narrative thread. Today, I’m doing just that, as I listen to Joseph “Fat Joe” Cartagena’s eighth solo project, The Elephant In The Room, as a part of my series where I follow his career in reverse chronological order. As he is still active within our chosen genre, there was the risk that his discography could grow unwieldy for this type of project after a two-year hiatus: luckily, I was actually more caught up than I thought, as Large Joseph only managed to drop one album (his collaboration with Remy Ma, Plata O Plomo) while I was off doing God knows what, and I’ll get to that when I get to that, but for now, I’m still interested in discovering the exact point when he gave up on the street life (relatively speaking, as he’s never truly left it behind) in favor of Radioland, a magical place filled with the likes of Ja Rule, Lil Wayne, and Ashanti.

And I have a feeling, based on a glance at the tracklist, that I won’t find the answer on The Elephant In The Room.

Some quick background before we get to work: the artist formerly referred to lovingly as Joey Crack was still in transition mode, only one album into his deal with Virgin Records at the time. His crew, the Terror Squad, was in shambles, as its previous members had either defected, been incarcerated (see: Remy Ma), or passed away (R.I.P. Big Pun, whose career heights, as they were, Joe will never stop chasing). But he was riding a wave of popularity, thanks to his decision to pay off his allotted album budgets by creating music aimed squarely at the portion of the audience who only cares about dancing and/or watching the opposite sex dance, giving no fucks about lyrical content, so The Elephant InThe Room was conceived with a similar blueprint. As per usual, there are some attempts to woo back the heads who would prefer not to walk into a club, please and thank you: said attempts achieve varying amounts of success.

During the time of recording, Jose Grande found himself embroiled in a battle with full-time habitual line-stepper 50 Cent, who was still upset that Joe had dared to appear on Ja Rule’s New York anthem, creatively titled “New York”, fucking four years prior, and was obsessed with trying to end his career. For his part, Joey ignored the dude as much as possible, because giving the troll any type or attention only empowers the troll to eventually become President of the United States. But this is hip hop, a genre built on actively-aggressive tactics, so around the time of this project’s release, 50 Cent and his G-Unit crew dropped a mixtape called The Elephant In The Sand, an attack built seemingly solely off of its album cover, a photo of Fat Joe taking his shirt off at the beach, because 50 Cent and his cronies are all five-year-olds who chuckle at stupid shit like that. For the most part, Joey gave no real response, although some passive thoughts did end up on his album sans context.

The ElephantIn The Room didn’t have any hit singles as far as I know, but 2008 was also around the time that I would just change the channel every time I heard Fat Joe’s voice on the radio, so what do I know. It did debut pretty far up on the Billboard 200 chart, so I assume he made some money, but curiously enough, TheElephant In The Room is the only one of Fat Joe’s albums that isn’t available for streaming on Spotify, nor is there an MP3 option available on Amazon. I don’t know if Tidal or Apple Music pick up the slack, or if this was a strange licensing issue, but don’t let its assumed rarity cloud your rational mind into thinking that this is some sort of lost, hidden gem.

1. THE FUGITIVE

“The Fugitive” hides the fact that it’s a rap album intro until the very end. Up until his soliloquy, this is a Large Joseph one-verse wonder that manages to check off a lot of boxes: references to past hits, DJ Khaled, leaving the major label life behind, and how good he is at making money abound. He also attempts to justify why he should be allowed to use the “n-word” without providing any argument to do so, and then alienates his female audience through multiple uses of the words “bitch” and “ho” (before trying to court them again by claiming to love and respect “independent women”). Streetrunner’s instrumental is so bland, definitely not what I would have chosen as my ring entrance music, and Joey raps like he’s trying too hard to impress his nephew who just discovered Lil’ Wayne. Pass.

2. AIN’T SAYIN’ NUTHIN’ (FEAT. DRE & PLIES)

During his outro on “The Fugitive”, Jose Grande tries to illustrate how he’s on “top of the game right now” by exclaiming, “We use different forms of transportation.” I’m sorry Joey, but you need to be far more specific. Are we talking vehicle makes, or are you literally flying a fucking spaceship while the peons cruise around in their Honda Fits? I have to imagine it’s the latter, as our host uses his very next line to explain that he’s “on different planets than y’all n----z”, which cannot be accurate, as there is nothing otherworldly or extraordinary about the man’s musical output. He’s just boasting for the sake of hearing his own voice now: none of this shit makes any sense. Anyway, “Ain’t Sayin’ Nuthin’” not only used up all of the apostrophes I put aside for this post, it also sucked.

3. THE CRACKHOUSE (FEAT. LIL WAYNE)

Large Joseph spends a good chunk of the first verse from “The Crackhouse” singing along to Kanye West, Cypress Hill, and Rihanna hit songs, a curious choice that can only be chalked up to the fact that he had absolutely no inspiration to record a track with a title as lazy as “The Crackhouse”. This was released as a single off of the strength of the Lil Wayne guest feature exclusively, and he only provides a shitty stream-of-consciousness chorus, leaving the bulk of the problem to our host, who can’t cook up any crack or magic over Steve Morales’  generic-sounding instrumental. Ugh.

4. COCABABY (FEAT. JACKIE RUBIO)

A thick slice of cheese, but one I kind of enjoyed, surprisingly enough. It’s a clear bid for radio airplay and/or the dance floor, and from what I can remember of that time period, it didn’t take, as this was the first time I’ve ever listened to “Cocababy”, but I didn’t hate this. The beat is pretty good and should have been welcomed into a club environment: as it was produced by Danja, the Mark Batson or Mike Elizondo to Timbaland’s Dr. Dre who has crafted hits of his own with the likes of Britney Spears, M.I.A., DJ Khaled, and even has production credits on the new Justin Timberlake album Man Of The Woods, this makes sense. Guest vocalist Jackie Rubio apes the entirety of the Bad Boy era with her part of the hook, which isn’t as appalling as it reads, and Jose Grande sounds comfortable throughout his two verses. This would probably do alright if Joe chose to release it today for some reason. I know, I feel weird writing all of this, too.

5. GET IT FOR LIFE (FEAT. POO BEAR)

I feel as though I willed DJ Khaled’s guest appearance into existence just by mentioning his name in the previous track’s description. Oh well. (It should be noted here that Khaled was a part of our host’s Terror Squad during this period, so his contributions here are a combination of friendship and contractual obligation.) “Get It For Life”, ostensibly produced by Khaled (and peppered with many of his vocal tics, but only one catchphrase, “We the best!”, as that was his fixation at this point in his career), sounds exactly like one of those Khaled anthem attempts featuring multiple largely-disconnected artists and T-Pain, but Large Joseph is the only dude performing. (The other guest, Poo Bear (why?), provides a lazy hook that swaps out “passion” for “shouting”.) There’s nothing objectionable here, but it isn’t memorable in any conceivable way, except for when our host evokes the memory of the late Big L, which will only make the two readers wish for the days when Joey Crack proudly wore his Diggin’ In The Crates affiliation on his sleeve. Sigh.

6. DROP (FEAT. JACKIE RUBIO & SWIZZ BEATZ)

Large Joseph seems to have discovered the club scene later in life, and just like everyone who feels like they missed out on an important formative experience, he tries to go back as often as possible, so as to make up for lost time. This has to be the primary motivation for “Drop”, a Swizz Beatz distraction that fails to push the narrative forward. Our host sounds uncomfortable and anxious surrounded by all of the various noises a Swizz beat brought with it back in 2008: another artist might have been able to turn “Drop” into something salvageable, but not Jose Grande. And Swizzy’s ad-libs certainly don’t help the cause. The thing about growing older is that the hangover hits harder the next morning, and it takes longer to recover than it would have if you were still in your twenties, Joey. You didn’t need to record this song: Swizz will still be your friend, I promise.

7. I WON’T TELL (FEAT. J. HOLIDAY)

This song for the ladies confuses me. Is the idea that Fat Joe “won’t tell” anyone about whatever he and whichever anonymous female he’s pitching woo to get into that night? Because all of his other songs would like a word, please. I mean, have you ever listened to your own lyrics, Joseph? This was awful, by the way.

8. K.A.R. (KILL ALL RATS)

Sequencing a full album has never been one of Fat Joe’s strong suits, which is how several ill-advised attempts at club bangers can be immediately followed by the overly-aggressive “K.A.R. (Kill All Rats)”, the Streetrunner-aided return of Fat Joe Da Gangsta. Is it too little, too late? Well, obviously: Joey’s violent attacks aimed at his opponents feature some of his more focused bars of the project, but he doesn’t convince anyone that this is the lifestyle he currently enjoys. As you’ll recall, at the time of The Elephant In The Room’s release, Large Joseph was in a one-sided battle with 50 Cent, along with various former members of his Terror Squad clique, and it feels like “K.A.R. (Kill All Rats)” would have been vastly improved had Joey the balls to drop a name or something.

9. 300 BROLIC (FEAT. OPERA STEVE)

One aspect of the previous track that I found interesting, if befuddling, is how there is (well, was: this was ten years ago, folks) someone in Fat Joe’s crew named K.A.R., who does not appear on that track. He does have a remix to “300 Brolic” that I found online that appears to be official, in that our host is in the video and is referenced throughout. That version of “300 Brolic” calls out Curtis Jackson and G-Unit, who were on the downslope of their career trajectory at the time, unlike Large Joseph on the album version, which uses a majestic-adjacent Sean C. and LV beat to deliver violent threats to nobody in particular before boasting of past success. Should have been better.

10. PREACHER ON A SUNDAY MORNING (FEAT. POO BEAR)

Expecting some sort of repentance for his actions during the previous two tracks? Joey Crack says “Nah, son”, dropping more boasts-n-bullshit that leads nowhere, and poking fun at “all these so-called killers try their best to dress gay” during the second verse, which, what? Look, my guy, if you’re not even going to try to entertain people, don’t step into the fucking booth, and don’t waste the valuable time producer Scott Storch (yeah, I know, right?) could have been using to blow through several rails.

11. MY CONSCIENCE (FEAT. KRS-ONE)

The aural equivalent of Fat Joe sucking his own dick. Over an Alchemist instrumental polished to look so shiny and bright that it can be viewed from outer space, Large Joseph delivers a monologue that is interrupted for a verse length at a time by his conscience (portrayed by KRS-One, easily the most shocking guest on The Elephant In The Room by a wide margin), who exists only to rationalize his behavior. And then Joey switches it on us and calls out his conscience for sounding like KRS-One, and Kris responds in kind, discussing their respective careers within our chosen genre before the guest laughs off our host’s claim to being the greatest emcee. What the fuck did I just listen to?

12. THAT WHITE

Quite the problematic song title in 2018, even after it was reduced from its original “Thank God For That White”: that it hasn’t lent itself to some asshole white supremacist movement is a small miracle for both Fat Joe and producer DJ Premier. Man, a goddamn lot has changed in the past ten years, right? (If The Elephant In The Room weren’t already not available for streaming, I would have recommended it be pulled from consideration just for this song title alone, and no, I’m not kidding. “Thank God For That White” just doesn’t mean what Jose Grande wanted it to mean today.) Anyway, our host sounds excited to have been handed some boom bap once again, and performs adequately because of it, but Preemo’s instrumental isn’t great: it’s one of his lesser efforts, especially during the chopped-up-vocal-samples-as-hook hook, which is pretty weak sauce. Le sigh.

The iTunes version of The Elephant In The Room contains an additional song, but I don’t have that version and, as such, have no idea what it sounds like. If you have heard it and feel it worthy of a listen, let me know in the comments.

THE LAST WORD: Not going to lie, this review ended pretty much the way I thought it would, with only a toddler’s handful of decent moments significantly outweighed by goofy club tracks and laughable attempts to relive the street life he grew up within. But the motherfucker lives in Miami: he’s pretty far removed from the lifestyle, and has to resort to third-party retellings of violent tales and criminal actions to get his nut off these days. The Elephant In The Room isn’t long enough to be considered a bother to most, which is one of the few compliments I can give it: thank fucking God this project wasn’t conceived in 2018, where every artist unleashes thirty-track projects in an effort to game the streaming system in order to get fairly compensated by their record labels, artistic vision be damned. Sadly, I think “Cocababy” is the only song on here that’s worthy of half an ear, and I’m not kidding or being ironic: it’s pretty good for what it is. But the rest of The Elephant In The Room is a waste of time, including, sadly, the Alchemist- and DJ Premier-produced tracks, which should have been much better and won’t encourage listeners to hunt down the previous work of anyone involved. So Large Joseph’s ego strikes again, but I suppose the fact that he was able to see a career resurgence and not 50 Cent gives him some solace, right? On to the next one.

-Max

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Large Joseph has released a bunch of albums. I’ve reviewed some of them here.