Experimentation is essential in any walk of life. The Wright brothers brought wings to mankind, Elvis turned the 12-bar blues into the hip-swinging mainstream, the Brooklyn Dodgers rejected the idiocy of racism in sports and signed the revolutionary Jackie Robinson, Kanye made Yeezus, and Steph Curry and the small-ball Warriors are 21-0.
But experimentation can backfire. The Hindenburg caught fire, Chip Kelly’s house-clearing madness has him as current public enemy No. 1 in Philly, Lil Wayne made Rebirth and the Sam Hinkie process has the 76ers placed firmly atop the list of the most unwatchable franchises in sports (and yet they still beat my Lakers).
After the success of his 2009 debut studio album, Man On the Moon: The End of Day, Kid Cudi’s later musical experimentation transformed him into one of the most frustrating artists in all of hip-hop, distancing himself from the sounds that brought him critical acclaim and mass fandom. On his latest project, Speedin’ Bullet 2 Heaven, Cudi tinkers in the worlds of grunge and punk, universes in which he occasionally successfully lands but often fails to belong.
Running through 26 tracks over an hour and 31 minutes, Speedin’ Bullet 2 Heaven offers a relatively promising genesis for punk/grunge Cudi through the first four tracks. “Edge of the Earth/Post Mortem Boredom” offers intriguingly muffled vocals over simple instrumentals. “Confused!” has Cudi brutally transparent about his struggles with addiction as he repeats, “I hate the drugs, but I love the numb.” It’s the type of raw emotion one seeks from the genres Cudi is attempting to master, and a poignant reflection on the danger of dependency. “Man in the Night” is strikingly kick-ass and “Screwed” offers a basic, relaxing melody that’s surprisingly soothing.
However, from track five all the long, long, long way to track 26, Cudi misses far more than he hits, serving as a reminder for why hip-hop, not rock, should be his pursued path if he’s seeking praise. On the sixth song, “Adventures,” Cudi’s lyrics are simply strange: “Her vagina is moist and warm/ I’ll keep you safe; just hold my arm.” It ends with a series of laughter, grunts and vintage noises from Beavis and Butthead, whose intermittent commentary begins on the third track and must be skipped in order to avoid inflicting nails-on-chalkboard-type pain to the ears. “The Nothing,” one of the album’s worst songs, legitimately begins with a whispering Cudi begging, “Someone, anyone, give me candy.” The creepy factor at this point reaches a Little-League-coach-who-doesn’t-have-a-kid-on-the-team level.
After “Amen,” a track that sounds as though it was wisely left off Nirvana’s complete discography, Cudi briefly saves face with “Handle with Care.” It’s one of the album’s few successes, as Cudi sings candidly over a strictly guitar instrumental: “Pardon me, babe, there are instructions I think that you should read/ I’m a mad man; I cause problems that I truly never mean.” However, a pertinent Cudi problem is his seemingly conscious effort to produce music his fans don’t want. Besides the few other enjoyable tracks like “Embers” and the titular “Speedin’ Bullet 2 Heaven,” Cudi puts forth a product that his rap-loving admirers will despise and that punk and grunge aficionados will almost certainly belittle.
Ultimately, Speedin’ Bullet 2 Heaven moves closer toward the disastrous side of experimentation than the iconic. Cudi’s casual fans will be pissed that, once again, he strays from his trippy-rap origins and leans toward poorly made rock. His stans, meanwhile, will continue to allow him to produce the music that distances him exponentially from his former promise.
Cudi’s performance on this album is sadly similar to that of present-day Kobe Bryant. He chucks 26 shots from spots at which he has almost never been comfortable and rattles in six or seven to keep a sliver of hope and entertainment alive. Unfortunately for Cudi, he doesn’t have anything close to Bryant’s 20 years of resume-building and legend-molding to allow for such a reckless approach.
