LL Cool J specializes in the art of the triumphant return. Dating back to the ’80s, he’s evaded prolonged stagnation with timely reinventions, shifting from boisterous, streetwise spitter (Radio) to loverboy (Bigger and DEFfer), to too much loverboy (Walking with a Panther) to the sweet spot of tough guy-loverboy (Mama Said Knock You Out) and so on and so forth. While he was able to cultivate resurgences throughout the ’90s and ‘00s, his last two albums, Exit 13 (2008) and Authentic (2013) sputtered due to bloat, formulaic production and spurts of iffy punchlines. But it turns out that those lapses were only preludes to the inevitable. Powered by fierce rhymes and Q-Tip’s stylish retro production, LL’s latest album, The Force, is his most potent LP in over 30 years.
Checking in at a trim 44 minutes, the new LP is a sharp distillation of LL in all his power. It starts with the Q-Tip-produced canvas he’s been given to paint on; rather than trying to adapt to the sounds of today, he traverses a B-boy vortex of surrealistic funk, dystopian industrial and majestic disco for tracks that feel too classical and too otherworldly to be dated. Here, he spits with the diction and all-around command of his 1990 self, relaying colorful vignettes of a freedom-fighting James Bond. No matter the role, he renders each tale with clarity, precision and a natural sense of theater. Q-Tip’s production only further enhances the cinema. It all plays out like a micro-anthology.
Potentially inspired by Chris Dormer — a former LAPD police officer-turned-mass-shooter who cited corruption as the reason he killed four members of law enforcement 11 years ago — “Spirit of Cyrus” embeds searing wrath into disembodied strings and an ominous modulated bassline. Paired with LL’s armor-piercing rhymes and propulsive inflections, it’s got all the righteous fury of judgment day: “I catch you at the red light, oh, you looking for me? / These bullets are my slaves, it’s time to set them free.”
For “Saturday Night Special,” LL dissects the anatomy of street hustlers for an exercise in gangsta gravitas. Laced with Q-Tip’s psychedelic jazz instrumental, it plays out like a scene from a ’70s action thriller, with LL and Rick Ross, imbuing the track with sly wit and hard-earned grit. Meanwhile, the kinetic “Murdergram Deux” is unadulterated B-Boy euphoria, with both LL and Eminem seemingly in a contest to see who can bend the most rhymes the fastest. Em turns in one of his best performances in years. And yet, LL matches his wit and all-around dexterity: “Reincarnation of the Ripper, I give stitches and chest zippers / Cinderella’s get propellered out their glass slippers / Time is tickin’, giving ass whoopins how we keep the cash flippin’.”
LL threads all his rap pyrotechnics with masterful tone control. He can morph from exasperated vigilante (“Spirit of Cyrus”) to paternal OG (“30 Decembers”) to effortless playboy cool (“Proclivities”) with breathless ease. For “Proclivities,” the fiery rhyme-slinger cruises a sleek new wave sample for an exercise in slick talk, with a well-placed “Jingling Baby” sample and a surprisingly fitting Saweetie guest spot swirling together a portrait of luxurious love.
As dynamic as it is wholesome, The FORCE is the result of two rap legends somehow at the apex of their powers more than 35 years into their respective careers. For his part, Q-Tip’s refined vision granted LL something utterly timeless; the soundscapes here are simultaneously nostalgic and futuristic. Collectively, they play out like an ethereal Afrocentric milieu for sound, and they give LL all the regality of a real rap king. Between the literal beat making and some likely coaching, it’s an example of the elite rap GMing that enabled Tip to elevate A Tribe Called Quest’s We Got It from Here… Thank You 4 Your Service to legendary status even after an extremely long layoff. Imagine what he could do for someone like Eminem.
And yet, a coach is only as valuable as his star player, and LL’s vocal and lyrical approach make Q-Tip’s machinations all the more powerful. As one of rap’s first superstars, ranking LL’s discography can be difficult. The first half of his career plays out like a blueprint to modern crossover success in hip-hop. But for the first time since perhaps his sophomore album, LL doesn’t sound like he’s adhering to anything but his own instincts — and the valuable insight from an equally legendary curator. Forty years into his career, LL’s rhymes are more tightly wound, his messages more human and his tonality more refined. If 1984 LL Cool J was a young rhymer defining rap stardom, 2024 LL is a sage game giver flaunting eternal grace.
Released four decades after his debut single — and 11 years after a clumsy LP that could have had him head for the rap retirement home — The FORCE is proof that real legends can always be reborn. Let’s call it a comeback.
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