If it’s possible for an artist to be overexposed before his proper debut is even released, then that probably explains why you’re already sick of The Game.
In the months leading up to the release of The Documentary, The Game was the feature of a huge publicity blitz expounding the virtues of the next great West Coast rapper. And as usual, when something starts off with that much hype, there is usually a huge disappointment waiting on the other end.
Throughout The Documentary, the newest member of G-Unit attempts to channel his idols, most notably Tupac, but lacks the depth, complexity and emotion to ever come close. He doesn’t emulate his rap idols, more content in listing off their names. In nearly every song, we are treated to a repetitive barrage of the names Dr. Dre, Eazy-E, Tupac, Jam Master Jay, Biggie and so on.
Unfortunately, what fills the voids between these name-checks is no more thrilling. The Game does nothing to distinguish himself from any other gangsta rapper coming off the assembly line, never managing to forge his own identity. This might be something the brains behind The Game noticed as well, as The Documentary turns into a revolving door of guest producers and performers, consistently outclassing the feature emcee.
With nothing significant to say, The Game’s debut CD is a severely bloated affair. This is one game we all lose.