Nelly - Nellyville Review
Posted by Aaron Cameron on 12.17.2002
Anybody Got a Nelly-to-English Dictionary?
Cornell Haynes, Jr. came out of nowhere (a.k.a. St. Louis, Missouri) to become an overnight sensation with his mainstream debut, Country Grammar in 2000. Other than Eminem, no other artist has managed to polarize the hip-hop community in such a resounding fashion in the last few years. Most heads have a very strong opinion of Nelly, without much in the way of middle ground.
The teenage Nelly fans, particularly the girls, can’t get enough of his Midwest drawl (“here” is pronounced “her”), superfluous facial band-aid and singsong lyrical delivery. While hardcore hip hop fans, particularly the men, can’t stand these same traits.
Love him or hate him, no one can argue with success. Country Grammar has moved close to eight million units and is one of the highest grossing debuts for an artist of any genre. So, what does the man who once sampled the theme song to The Jeffersons have to bring to the table for his sophomore album?
In the interest of his fans who might be reading this review, let’s get the good out of the way as quickly as possible. Nelly knows him some party anthems. Hot in Herre has the potential to be one of those club tracks that’s still being requested at parties a decade from now (ala California Love). Amazingly, Nelly’s lyrical flow manages to outshine the equally heated production from The Neptunes.
Other tracks worth a listen are Nellyville, which paints a picture of Nelly’s version of hip-hop utopia and On Tha Grind featuring King Jacob. The best tracks here (or “her”) are a pair of previously released joints that are both designed as jabs at self-professed hip hop icon KRS-One. #1 is head and shoulders better than Roc the Mic (Remix) due to better production and the latter’s inclusion of the talentless Freeway and Beanie Segal.
That’s about it in terms of the good cuts. Far too often, Nellyville veers into the realm of the laughable with lyrics so bad (“You ain’t from Russia/So bitch, why you rushin’?”) or played out (“Chronic/sticky like gum”) that the fast forward button seems like a godsend.
The overhyped guest appearances by Justin Timberlake and Kelly Rowland fall flat as both are relegated to hook duty, while Nelly croons (it’s not quite singing) over weak beats. Some better production could’ve made this a much more solid album. Unfortunately, the beats are on something of a roller coaster as every up-tempo jam seems to be followed by slower tracks (Dem Boyz and Splurge) that completely halt any momentum.
The 411: Nellyville is one of those albums that’s almost pointless to criticize. Nelly has no designs on being accepted as a top-notch lyricist and seems to revel in being the hip-hop pretty boy that everyone loves to hate. While the album is very flawed, from a dance music standpoint, this album partially delivers, featuring some solid club-thumping jams. If you like your hip hop with style over substance, then Nelly is your Mayor (or merr).
