Post by docwatson on May 23, 2009 7:44:20 GMT -6
andale-white-flagGENRE: HIP-HOP/RAP
LABEL: C.L.E. (CHRISTLIKE ENT.)
RELEASE DATE: MAY 1, 2009
RATING: 3.5 OUT OF 5
Short Version:
With only twelve tracks, it’s unfortunate that White Flag falters mainly because the album has one too many filler songs. Instead of being just a solid album, White Flag would’ve made a flawless EP if only a couple tracks were given the axe on the C.L.E. cutting room floor. That said, White Flag still manages to display Andale as one of the more talented rappers in HHH. Despite the album’s shortcomings, White Flag is worth the price of admission mainly because Andale is a microphone maestro who excels more often than not.
Full Version:
I think people, including yours truly, often underestimate the deliberate focus and direction required to compose a seamlessly cohesive, complete album. It’s one thing to be a dope artist, have a collection of dope tracks, slap them together and call it an album. It takes a completely different vision to make those tracks complement each other and function as a truly complete album in every sense of the word.
Coming off the heels of introducing Pro to the world, C.L.E. brings to the limelight an emcee by the name of Andale and while his debut, White Flag, falls short of being a complete, holistic album it certainly should not be written off altogether. You may be wondering why I’m framing this review in the context of a complete or “fragmented” album. Well, I have to say that White Flag is solid—to the extent that Andale’s strengths and successes actually force you to recognize the project’s weaker parts.
It’s fitting, given the Spanish meaning of andale, that things begin with Andale spitting a fast-paced demonstration of lyrical elegance on “White Flag Intro”. Over an up-tempo rodeo-esque beat, Andale shows his lyrical dexterity by switching in and out of double time in a way that rivals Chicago’s famous motor-mouth, Twista. That great thing about this intro is the message that Andale conveys with precision: life is to be surrendered to Christ. On the hook, Andale makes the message of the white flag very clear:
“White Flag, I surrender all
Laid down, face down on the ground, prostrate
Father, forgive my flaws
I’m waving that white flag and I’m beggin’ you for mercy
I’m so dirty, I’m not worthy, Father I hope ya heard me”
From the outset, there is no doubt that Andale is an absolute beast on the microphone, effortlessly switching up his cadence while sporting a crisp delivery and some sharp punchlines (for example, “time is running short like Gary Coleman in a marathon”). As far as his delivery and flow, Andale is nothing short of an incredible talent. I’m not sure how long the man’s been on the mic but it sounds like Andale’s been doing his rap thing since birth.
“Supa Strait” is the type of anthem that you’ll want to bang in your ride. Over a catchy, heavy electronic synth, Andale celebrates God’s everyday provision in a way that doesn’t make God look like an ATM, at the same time, hitting on Christ’s power to transform lives.
Andale shifts to a horizontal perspective on “Why I Call U Jesus,” a praise anthem directed not just at the listener but toward Christ, enlisting the help of T-Dogg and Verbs. Both guests hold it down, even mixing in a little spoken word for some extra flavor. This track is a genuine, emotionally-provoking praise song, the type that will compel you to reflect on the person of Christ—something even most HHH songs fail to do.
Given the strong first few tracks, including the party track, “Party Tonite” and the testimonial “I Want That (Let Me Know),” the second half of White Flag falls short of the quality of the album’s earlier parts.
“Come Around,” a cautionary street tale flops thanks to a banal hook and a lackluster beat. “Speaking Murder” is nothing incredibly noteworthy but instead sounds like a throwaway track that didn’t make the cut for Pro’s The Blackout and less like a track that fits with White Flag (“Homie Please” is the trademark C.L.E. street-engaging anthem that doesn’t seem forced and fit well on the album). “A Capella” is cool and all but really has little to no replay value.
While these tracks seem out of place and detract from the early successes of White Flag, the soulful, vulnerable side of Andale is displayed on tracks like “Tearz of a Clown” and “Disappear (Interlude)”. On “Tearz of a Clown,” Andale’s vulnerability becomes visible as he on reflects the pain and agony he has witnessed in his life. At times sounding much like the psalmist, he candidly ponders the “why” of these events while remaining in posture of praise toward God.
The soulful, guitar-tinged “Disappear (Interlude)” continues Andale’s openness on his daily struggles and dependence on Christ. Honestly, these are the kinds of tracks—as opposed to the street-engaging anthems—that fit best with the early parts of White Flag. It’s on these authentic, heartfelt tracks, that the prevalent theme of White Flag is best proclaimed, that through the good, the bad, the pain, the confusion, and the suffering of life, Andale still surrenders in faith to Christ.
With only twelve tracks, it’s unfortunate that the project falters mainly because the album has filler songs that fail from mostly from mediocre execution and the fact that they seem out of place on the album thematically. Instead of being a solid album, White Flag would’ve made a flawless EP if only a couple tracks were given the axe on the C.L.E. cutting room floor.
That said, Andale has certainly established himself as one of the more talented rappers in HHH and placed himself in the front of the pack of new artists in the genre. Not only has White Flag established Andale as an artist to be reckoned with but with yet another solid artist debut, C.L.E. is quickly climbing the shortlist of influential labels in HHH. Despite the album’s shortcomings, it is worth the price of admission mainly because Andale, backed by some solid production, is more often than not exceptional on the microphone.
LABEL: C.L.E. (CHRISTLIKE ENT.)
RELEASE DATE: MAY 1, 2009
RATING: 3.5 OUT OF 5
Short Version:
With only twelve tracks, it’s unfortunate that White Flag falters mainly because the album has one too many filler songs. Instead of being just a solid album, White Flag would’ve made a flawless EP if only a couple tracks were given the axe on the C.L.E. cutting room floor. That said, White Flag still manages to display Andale as one of the more talented rappers in HHH. Despite the album’s shortcomings, White Flag is worth the price of admission mainly because Andale is a microphone maestro who excels more often than not.
Full Version:
I think people, including yours truly, often underestimate the deliberate focus and direction required to compose a seamlessly cohesive, complete album. It’s one thing to be a dope artist, have a collection of dope tracks, slap them together and call it an album. It takes a completely different vision to make those tracks complement each other and function as a truly complete album in every sense of the word.
Coming off the heels of introducing Pro to the world, C.L.E. brings to the limelight an emcee by the name of Andale and while his debut, White Flag, falls short of being a complete, holistic album it certainly should not be written off altogether. You may be wondering why I’m framing this review in the context of a complete or “fragmented” album. Well, I have to say that White Flag is solid—to the extent that Andale’s strengths and successes actually force you to recognize the project’s weaker parts.
It’s fitting, given the Spanish meaning of andale, that things begin with Andale spitting a fast-paced demonstration of lyrical elegance on “White Flag Intro”. Over an up-tempo rodeo-esque beat, Andale shows his lyrical dexterity by switching in and out of double time in a way that rivals Chicago’s famous motor-mouth, Twista. That great thing about this intro is the message that Andale conveys with precision: life is to be surrendered to Christ. On the hook, Andale makes the message of the white flag very clear:
“White Flag, I surrender all
Laid down, face down on the ground, prostrate
Father, forgive my flaws
I’m waving that white flag and I’m beggin’ you for mercy
I’m so dirty, I’m not worthy, Father I hope ya heard me”
From the outset, there is no doubt that Andale is an absolute beast on the microphone, effortlessly switching up his cadence while sporting a crisp delivery and some sharp punchlines (for example, “time is running short like Gary Coleman in a marathon”). As far as his delivery and flow, Andale is nothing short of an incredible talent. I’m not sure how long the man’s been on the mic but it sounds like Andale’s been doing his rap thing since birth.
“Supa Strait” is the type of anthem that you’ll want to bang in your ride. Over a catchy, heavy electronic synth, Andale celebrates God’s everyday provision in a way that doesn’t make God look like an ATM, at the same time, hitting on Christ’s power to transform lives.
Andale shifts to a horizontal perspective on “Why I Call U Jesus,” a praise anthem directed not just at the listener but toward Christ, enlisting the help of T-Dogg and Verbs. Both guests hold it down, even mixing in a little spoken word for some extra flavor. This track is a genuine, emotionally-provoking praise song, the type that will compel you to reflect on the person of Christ—something even most HHH songs fail to do.
Given the strong first few tracks, including the party track, “Party Tonite” and the testimonial “I Want That (Let Me Know),” the second half of White Flag falls short of the quality of the album’s earlier parts.
“Come Around,” a cautionary street tale flops thanks to a banal hook and a lackluster beat. “Speaking Murder” is nothing incredibly noteworthy but instead sounds like a throwaway track that didn’t make the cut for Pro’s The Blackout and less like a track that fits with White Flag (“Homie Please” is the trademark C.L.E. street-engaging anthem that doesn’t seem forced and fit well on the album). “A Capella” is cool and all but really has little to no replay value.
While these tracks seem out of place and detract from the early successes of White Flag, the soulful, vulnerable side of Andale is displayed on tracks like “Tearz of a Clown” and “Disappear (Interlude)”. On “Tearz of a Clown,” Andale’s vulnerability becomes visible as he on reflects the pain and agony he has witnessed in his life. At times sounding much like the psalmist, he candidly ponders the “why” of these events while remaining in posture of praise toward God.
The soulful, guitar-tinged “Disappear (Interlude)” continues Andale’s openness on his daily struggles and dependence on Christ. Honestly, these are the kinds of tracks—as opposed to the street-engaging anthems—that fit best with the early parts of White Flag. It’s on these authentic, heartfelt tracks, that the prevalent theme of White Flag is best proclaimed, that through the good, the bad, the pain, the confusion, and the suffering of life, Andale still surrenders in faith to Christ.
With only twelve tracks, it’s unfortunate that the project falters mainly because the album has filler songs that fail from mostly from mediocre execution and the fact that they seem out of place on the album thematically. Instead of being a solid album, White Flag would’ve made a flawless EP if only a couple tracks were given the axe on the C.L.E. cutting room floor.
That said, Andale has certainly established himself as one of the more talented rappers in HHH and placed himself in the front of the pack of new artists in the genre. Not only has White Flag established Andale as an artist to be reckoned with but with yet another solid artist debut, C.L.E. is quickly climbing the shortlist of influential labels in HHH. Despite the album’s shortcomings, it is worth the price of admission mainly because Andale, backed by some solid production, is more often than not exceptional on the microphone.