A soulless 50 Cent exposes myriad weaknesses on `Curtis'.

Byline: Craig Semon

COLUMN: RECORDINGS

50 Cent

"Curtis" (Shady/Aftermath/Interscope)

* *

50 Cent has threatened that he would retire from the recording business if his latest disc, "Curtis," doesn't outsell Kanye West's "Graduation." If he really wanted to scare us, 50 Cent should have said that he would never retire unless we buy two copies.

And how could music survive without Fiddy? Well, I'm sure there is another misogynistic, hedonistic, homophobic, narcissistic, mush-mouth rapper who could easily fill the void.

Picking up where Michael Richards and Don Imus left off, the former Jamaica, Queens, crack dealer-turned-rap-sensation is once again reinforcing negative African-American stereotypes while stroking his own ego. He obviously didn't get the memo from the NAACP on retiring the N-word; he says it repeatedly in nearly every song on "Curtis."

"Curtis" comes off as a desperate ploy to convince the listener that the 32-year-old rapper still has credibility on the streets. I've got news for you, Fiddy, you obliterated your street cred when you bought yourself a 50,000-square-foot house in Farmington, Conn., (once owned by Mike Tyson) and booked studio time with Justin Timberlake.

50 Cent sounds half-cocked and half in the bag on "My Gun Go Off." Spewing out cusswords, racial slurs and threats at breakneck speed, 50 Cent glorifies gang violence, drive-by shootings and putting people in the hospital and/or morgue. He mumbles, "I'll hurt you. I'll merk you. I'll pop summin' /Drop summin'. I ain't gonna stop hunting." While the song reinforces the notion that we don't want to mess with 50 Cent, the problem here (besides the obvious) is the rapper's murder rant is more cartoony than chilling. When the smoke clears and the last simulated gunshots stop reverberating, it is apparent that 50 Cent has done the gangsta gunplay better in the past.

The G-Unit captain visits his old stomping grounds on the shoot-'em-up snorer, "I'll Still Kill.'' Guest-artist Akon, crooning like a wounded banshee over a clanky, hip-hop beat, advises, "Don't even look at me wrong when I come through the 'hood," while 50 Cent delivers the anemic response, "Respect come from admiration or fear/You can admire me or you can catch one in your wig."

Taking a break from the body count, 50 Cent brags about how he made a killing on overpriced mineral water on the shameless, bling-bling opus, "I Get Money." The cocky rapper declares himself "stanky rich" and boasts, "Yeah, I smell like the vault. I used to sell dope/I did play the block, now I play in boats." While he's little better bragging about his assets than his kills, 50 Cent sounds bored, uninterested and easily distracted. That is, of course, when he's not overly pleased with himself.

On the dreary Dr. Dre collaboration, "Come & Go," 50 Cent reveals his revolving door (and revolting) sex policy. In what seems light-years away in the wrong direction from Bowie's "Suffragette City," 50 Cent repetitiously mumbles, "Bring 'em in, kick 'em out/Bring 'em in, kick 'em out." Casanova he ain't. What's worse, though, (and by far the biggest travesty the artist commits on this travesty-ridden record) is 50 Cent's audacity to compare himself to James Brown. Maybe the latter-day James Brown, but in his heyday, the Godfather of Soul had more soul in his little finger than Fiddy has in whole bullet-riddled body.

50 Cent join forces with hit-makers Justin Timberlake and Timberland on the banal bump and grind "Ayo Technology." True, the song serves up 50 Cent's infectious "nympho...info" rhyme (his best on the album) and pretty boy Justin's cheeky come-on line, "Ayo, I'm tired of using technology/Why don't you sit down on top of me." But, in the end, this throwaway pop trifle is more "SexyBackwash" than "SexyBack."

Lame double-entendres reach a new low on "Amusement Park," a lousy rewrite of the already lousy "Candy Shop." 50 Cent sounds downright goofy singing, "If you wanna ride on a roller coaster baby come on and ride/It goes up and down and round and round." In the end, this so-called "Amusement Park" is more like a house of horrors.

Mary J. Blige is "feelin' like a fiend on crack," while 50 Cent falls in love with himself all over again on the misguided duet, "All of Me." While Blige certainly adds some much-needed sass in the proceedings, it only shows how soulless and gutless 50 Cent really is. "God gave me a gift. I'm supposed to be rich," 50 Cent gushes.

I guess being modest was not included in the Almighty's gift bag.

ART: PHOTO

CUTLINE: 50 Cent

PHOTOG: THE ASSOCIATED PRESS