H.N.I.C. 2

On his first venture outside of Mobb Deep, Prodigy makes an album that sounds incredibly like a Mobb Deep album, even though his longtime partner, Havoc, only makes two appearances. So if the New York rapper hoped to craft a new identity for himself on this album by stepping into the spotlight with a cast of producers led by the Alchemist and Rockwilder, he doesn't; this album only reinforces his already well-developed stance as a sullen rapper dropping somber rhymes about street life over gloomy, piano- and string-laden production. Yet, because Prodigy doesn't alienate himself from his accepted identity, this ends up being a remarkable solo album. Granted, it doesn't have the cinematic and charismatic qualities of the best solo Wu-Tang albums, and it doesn't have the balanced effect of his Mobb Deep collaborations with Havoc. Still, his rhymes are just as ghetto poetic as ever, his delivery is just as sedate as before, and the production is nearly as melancholy as Havoc's signature style. So this ends up being a second-rate Mobb Deep album, with its second-rate status originating from the fact that the album doesn't have the beginning-to-end thematic feel of Havoc's production and it doesn't have Havoc's similarly sullen rapping on every track supplying the perfect balance to Prodigy's. The way this album's production roster — the Alchemist, Rockwilder, Hangmen 3, and a few others — do their best to emulate the same melancholia production that is synonymous with Havoc is probably the most interesting aspect of this album, and relative to the two Havoc productions on this album, these producers do an admirable job, particularly the Alchemist. No to say that Prodigy doesn't command presence with his rapping, because he does; in fact, he's a remarkably consistent rapper, but he's best appreciated as a modest street poet such as Illmatic-era Nas or Raekwon, rather than as a superstar solo artist such as DMX or Jay-Z. And as this album proves, as much as Prodigy may want to be a solo star, he's at his strongest when he's cinematically weaving his ghetto tales over evocative production, a quality that makes him a better album artist (as he's proven with Mobb Deep) than a pop star. The strength of confessional songs such as "You Can Never Feel My Pain" relative to somewhat clichéd songs such as "Do It" exemplify that Prodigy is at his best when he gets personal rather than when he poses in a superstar stance. So even if this album isn't quite on par with the Mobb Deep albums and doesn't have the superstar feel of a DMX album, it is a fitting substitute for a Mobb Deep album, highlighted by the producers' often-effective attempts to emulate Havoc's style and the moments when Prodigy gets heartfelt. [The clean version censors the album's profanity.]