Lupe Fiasco’s second album contains an odd number of songs - 19 to be exact - but there is nothing odd about this masterwork. Lupe delivers substance, style, versatility, originality, superior production, and exceptional lyrics on The Cool, which was released in mid-December.

I cannot begin to classify this album in any particular genre or give it any sort of standardized industry rating - it simply defies and outweighs what’s being produced by competitors and counterparts alike. Lupe’s sheer genius should not have taken this long to reach his audience- I often wonder how hip hop followers have survived this long without someone like him. And while he may be a baby in the business, he will indeed be remembered as a hall of famer- right along with Tupac, Nas and maybe even Biggie, although their styles differ greatly.

No album is complete without melodious diversity; artists from various musical backgrounds contributed vocals to The Cool. Chicago resident Matthew Santos serenades listeners on tracks Superstar and Fighters. Although these songs featured less of a political meaning compared to American Terrorist (Food & Liquor), Santos’ Superstar still has an underlying message about the battle between the stardom and the self.

On Superstar, the most handsome vocals were laid over synthesized sounds of clicking cameras with a pianist stroking keys in the background. Fighters was recorded with more a capella attitude and very little background noise took away from both Lupe’s lyrics and Santos’ cadenced tunes.

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“…wanna believe my own hype but it’s too untrue/the world brought me to my knees, what have you brung you?”

Both songs The Die and Go Go Gadget Flow were produced in a contemporary style, with flows that unearth in an impossibly fast current that only a few can pull off with the same ease and style.

Streets on Fire and Hello/Goodbye straddle the fence between hip hop and urban grunge/punk. The sounds of are wed to record scratching and witty vernacular - metaphors and analogies that typical rock stars wouldn’t dream of writing, let alone spitting on a track. The synthesis of melodies, tempo’s and genres is seemingly paranormal, which might explain the abstract artwork in The Cool’s CD insert.

Chris Paultrie accompanies Lupe on Streets on Fire, where thought-provoking libretto jumps from one collectively relevant topic to another: epidemics, misinformation, crime, corruption, and the overall lack of social responsibility. It’s evident that Lupe feels culpable people hand the blame from one person to the next - a common theme for the FNF rep. Lupe is intrigued - but he doesn’t seem to be outraged like some are- unmistakably vexed as to how these things can continue without everyone else noticing them.

Hello/Goodbye lends more urban punk, with a guitarist who rocks through and through; hip hop listeners don’t hear this kind of reverb often but definitely need to. Dumb it Down and Hip Hop Saved My Life are two market-worthy songs for obvious reasons, but both feature content that cannot be grasped because of the domineering production. Dumb it Down is hip hop satire at its finest. Following the humor and jokes, the beat slows to a halt:
“…they told me I should come down cousin, but I flatly refuse/I ain’t dumbin’ down nuh’in”.

Nikki Jean sings the harmonious hook on Hip Hop Saved My Life, where Lupe illustrates a fictional but no less convincing story about a young man whose life swings between selling crack and selling beats. His life sways like a pendulum from housing his mother to clothing his girlfriend in a  classic rising star fantasy.

Little Weapon is a place on the album, a place I found most touching, where Lupe gives an account in the first person of what it means in our world of increased militarism that sadly, employs children to fight these wars in one position or another. The song is preceded by a short verse kicked in a highly distorted voice speaking about violent, underage perpetrators. This track is four minutes of pure lyrical annotation on wholesale violence; not a rant about its senselessness, but rather a telling moment from the perspective of those youngsters carrying out the aggression.

“…cute, smile-less, heartless, violent, childhood devoid of all childish ways/ can’t write their own names or read the words that’s on their own graves/think you gangsta/ you popped a few rounds? these kids will come through and murder a whole town…”

I’m especially fond of another verse, spit by Simonsayz who co-authored the track, about video game simulations of brutality and assault. Children of today are all too acquainted with weaponry and virtual casualties of war, and Simonsayz simply tells it like it is. 

While the other tracks cannot go unmentioned, Put You Game On seems to be the song that most energy went into lyrically. The artistry of Lupe’s words are laid over a seemingly simple baseline and moderate production. With lyrics as weighty as these, Lupe could have bypassed the tradition of background music and commenced in the discourse without a beat at all. On the other hand, it takes either a polished analyst or a seasoned code breaker to decipher some of his symbolism and allegory.

“I am the American dream/the rape of Africa/the undying machine/the overpriced medicine/the murderous regime…”

And that is purely what Lupe’s celebrated composition is all about: well written, prolific and multipurpose music. There’s an aura about this newbie to the industry, one that’s earned and should be respected. He’s a student of the world and all its patterns, trends and behaviors. It shows in the mastermind of lyricism and songwriting.

The Cool is a fantastic follow up to Food & Liquor in that Lupe has matured as a recording artist, flourished in the industry, diversified his sound and technique - and hasn’t compromised a thing.