Jean Grae

The tracks from Jean Grae's new album have been trading on the Internet in similar versions since 2004, and it's been unclear until recently if they would ever see a proper release. But Jeanius has arrived, and 9th Wonder's whimsical but unerringly solid production ensures that it all feels of a piece. Jean herself, is plenty consistent, as she always is—this time bordering on monolithic. In short, she's still pissed off, but about what? The brand of cigarettes people are smoking, Kanye West, apathy, guys in general, hip-hop in general, life in general and "the struggle."

She diagnoses herself astutely enough—"I know I'm over-sensitive when it comes to/Well, almost everything"—but she seems to automatically interpret this as proof of integrity. When she gets specific, as on "Billy Killer," her insight comes to life, a true match for the depth and breadth of her producer, who, in this case puts together dub-y piano, two genders of backing vocals—the male all chopped up, the female almost singing whole verses on their own—a punchy, lurching snare beat, and a manic, barely coherent Spanish guitar solo that comes around when it feels like it. Grae, for her part, manages to be somber, tweaked out, tough, dismissive, and vulnerable all at once—and convincingly. Nevertheless, it's a range that is scarcely explored elsewhere.

It's a shame, because 9th Wonder is at the top of his game throughout, reveling in vocoder-like sounds, endearingly wonky organs, ghosted soul horns, a supreme, fuzzy bass line that's twice as fast and three times as quiet as anyone else would make it, a flute preset that somehow sounds like a sitar. Endlessly creative without ever threatening to crowd out Grae's rhymes, he nearly turns Jeanius into a must-listen. It would have been easier if he’d gotten more than one note out of the MC.

—Nathan Cunningham
08.04.08