Album: The Game

The Documentary, AFTERMATH/ G UNIT/INTERSCOPE

Andy Gill
Friday 04 February 2005 01:00 GMT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Chuck Taylor, aka The Game, is the Wayne Rooney of hip hop, a newcomer so excessively garlanded - in his case, to the tune of a million advance American sales of this debut album - that he'll surely struggle to fulfil expectations. Unless, that is, one's expectations can be sated by a rerun of overly familiar conventions from the West Coast gangsta-rap heyday. Taylor apparently only took up rhyming a few years ago, prompted by five gunshot wounds and a lengthy stay in hospital to make a sudden career-change from his previous, more violent profession. He was quite methodical about it, investing in a bunch of big-name rap albums and modelling his own efforts upon theirs - which is why it's a bit of a stretch to refer to The Game's "own" style, as, when he's not name-checking the likes of Snoop Dogg, Eminem, 2Pac, Nas and NWA, he's offering fairly decent facsimiles of their approaches. The result is a bit like the rap equivalent of a tribute band, full of the requisite breast-beating, threats, insults, paranoia, accounts of drug retailing, and the kind of sinister local travelogues that must have the Compton tourist board tearing its hair out. Of course, it helps to have Dr Dre as your producer, and the likes of Eminem, 50 Cent, and Kanye West guesting but, ultimately, this is a dead-end exercise.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in