Something great happened last week on The Tonight Show, poor Leno notwithstanding. Camera on musical guest Lil' Wayne, bassist behind him on pasty octaves, some keyboard "funk" preset, really thin till the guitars flange in. This is Alan-born Robin Thicke's "Oh Shooter" they're playing, straight-up, and Thicke, on stage beside Wayne, begins his stick'd-up anthem, his breath caught as it would be near chrome. Tune in then and you'd think Thicke was the star and Weezy just his cough-n-pepper hypeman. "I brought my homeboy with me," says standing Wayne of singing Thicke. He's kidding, right? Technically this is Wayne's song called "Shooter", but the entire "song", down to the track length, is Thicke's original.
What a tense performance so far; music played, but you could probably hear a pin drop. This young New Orleans rapper bouncing around on stage with Real Musicians but not much else, good for a laugh or a breakdance or whatever Other-approved televised woop-de-doo-- "cute" and "rap's not so bad after all" but also "rapping is easy," "rap=only good as the sample it swiped". Wayne was holding us at bay, all our presuppositions about his career, his music, his age and color, his responsibility qua artist post-Katrina. If Thicke's the crybaby here, Wayne's the stick-up kid.
"They want me with my hands up," sings Thicke, doing that stupid "raise the roof" thing. Wayne breaks: "I'm trying to tell you what I am, baby-- listen." And after almost two minutes of no talking he bursts the song open: "So many doubt cos I come from the South, but when I open my mouth the best come out. It's my turn and I'm starting right here today." And so on-- it's one of those black-and-white-to-technicolor moments after which, if you still don't believe in Wayne, you're just lying to yourself.
Granted, Leno won't make "Shooter" Wayne's "song" (it will be though), and we definitely can't call Tha Carter II his coming-of-age album or something equally corny-- people blew that line on the one before. Fact is, Wayne's still young, and he loves that he can get away with shit-- literally. Firmly keeping a foot in the sandbox, Wayne dabbles scatological throughout ("Dear Mr. Toilet/ I'm the shit"), sometimes even elaborately so ("You niggas small bubbles, I burp you/ I'll spit you out and have your girls slurp you"). Total energy thing, his verses still lack polish and a good edit (e.g. so many goddamn shark jokes), and his skits and "personality raps" (cf. "Grown Man") spell him out too bluntly, too vainly. And yet, there's "Shooter", or "Receipt", or "Get Over": "Standin' on stage in front of thousands/ Don't amount to me not having my father." Lines like this fall outta nowhere, jaw-droppers aplenty-- but "don't forget the baby".