Young Money's Tyga Poses No Threat To the Rap Throne

When Jay-Z and Kanye West released “Watch the Throne” last year, rap’s long and sordid love affair with ego reached its zenith. The two hip-hop icons recorded the album from a self-aware position of hip-hop world domination, and almost every track was filled with the kind of bravado that would make even the late Kim Jong-il blush. As the album title indicates, the artists regarded themselves as rulers of the kingdom of hip-hop, and for good reason—their combination of financial success, critical respectability, and cultural ubiquity is unprecedented in the genre. Six months later, there is an improbable, brash pretender to the throne. While Young Money rapper Tyga boldly asserts his ascendancy, Jay-Z and West should not be threatened in the least; his new lackluster album will prevent him from ever truly being coronated.

Tyga, a protégé of Lil Wayne—who is arguably the most prominent alternative to the “Watch the Throne” duo—sets out his agenda from the very outset of his major-label debut, “Careless World: Rise of the Last King.” Three lines into the opening title track, Tyga claims, “I realized I needed to rise and become king / My own destiny.” The notion of kingship is a trite trope of rap, and it pervades this album to the point where it is almost a concept album about King Tyga. Track after track explains Tyga’s status as the “young knight” and “young king,” his efforts to find an appropriate queen, and his success in achieving what he claims everyone dreams of: being “kings and queens.”

While this motif infects the entire album, the nadir is probably “Black Crowns.” The boastful song opens with the immortal synthpop chorus, “All I see is black crowns / King me ’cause this is my time now / So all you other niggas bow down.” Given the absurdity of the statement, along with the amusing verbing of “king,” it would be easy to dismiss Tyga’s claims as consciously absurd, but in the context of the album they are frighteningly sincere: Moments later, Tyga raps, “heavenly father, appoint me to the coronation.” This braggadocio is only rivaled by the title track, which has generated controversy for its unauthorized use of a Martin Luther King speech (the pun seems clearly intended). The speech extract and the song itself end with MLK’s assertion channeling Julia Ward Howe: “My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” It seems clear that this quote is meant to refer to Tyga himself. Although the quote has been removed from the album following a legal challenge, its original placement clearly shows the rapper’s arrogant intentions.

However, the constant musings on his kingship are, to an extent, preferable to the non-monarchical themes. While most rappers of his ilk are casually misogynistic and tastelessly licentious, Tyga often crosses the line into actively violent and obscene, as evidenced by lines like “Got yo grandma on my dick,” and “Bitches jumping on my dick, hopping like it’s hopscotch.” He made his name four years ago with the endearingly kitsch “Coconut Juice,” which described his inclination for drinking that “3000 proof” beverage, but in his Young Money avatar, Tyga is entirely incapable of humor or irony. At times the lyrics are positively surreal in their banality. “Far Away” opens with a Vanessa Carlton-esque plaint: “Walk a thousand miles just to see her.”

What rescues “Careless World” from utter disaster is the willingness of Young Money, Lil Wayne’s record label, to support Tyga. The album is supremely well-produced and features a range of guest contributors that would be dizzying even for a more established performer: Pharell, Nas, Robin Thicke, J. Cole, Nicki Minaj, T-Pain, Busta Rhymes, Chris Brown, and, on two tracks, Lil Wayne himself all make appearances. Although the album is overly long, with 21 tracks clocking in over one hour and 20 minutes, it sustains its energy through the steady barrage of infectious hooks and beats that are to be expected from Young Money productions. “For the Fame” (with Chris Brown and Wynter Gordon), “Let it Show” (with J. Cole), and “This Is Like” (with Robin Thicke) stand out as moments of genuine auditory pleasure; they are melodic and crucially lighter in lyrical and musical tone than the rest of the album. These tracks privilege the talents of Tyga’s guests and are largely free of royalist rhetoric. The result is enjoyably silly pop-rap.

Amidst all these entertaining celebrity cameos, it is easy to forget quite how incidental Tyga himself can be to the entire enterprise. As a lyricist, rapper, and singer, he is so devoid of personality that “Careless World” would be scarcely different if any other artist from the Young Money stable were given the same tunes, beats, and guest stars. “Black Crowns” ends with an excruciating one-minute message from a woman, purportedly his mother, who just wants to tell him how awesome he is, how honored she is to be his mother, and how only he is fit to wear the black crown. Judging by this thin and unconvincing album, however, Tyga’s reign is likely to be brief and unacknowledged. At least his mother will still love him.

—Staff writer Keshava D. Guha can be reached at kdguha@fas.harvard.edu.