Three tracks into Radioactive, Micahel Wayne Atha’s first major release on the Shady imprint, Kid Rock lets loose on the chorus of ‘Let’s Roll’, a stadium rap song concocted with radio in mind. His turn is quite accomplished, but Rock symbolises everything Yelawolf is up against – the difficulty of marrying southern rock sensibilities with modern rap, the scene’s continued reluctance to accept white rappers as authentic, and the pitfalls of going for the pop market.
Cast over it all, as Yelawolf is only too aware, is the shadow of Eminem. That Yela successfully negotiates this minefield and comes out unscathed is a testament to his intelligence, talent and taste. The fact he’s been knocking on the door for years must have helped too – it was only with last year’s Trunk Muzik 0-60 that things really took off. That work was frenetic, furious, sonically daring but a little 2D and filled with braggadocio. For his debut proper, Yela raises his game, introducing even more varied influences and approaching his rhymes with proper care and attention. There’s still much ghetto self-aggrandising and mindless party songs but there is depth, too, and a playfulness only found in the southern states. The real revelation is that Radioactive references Outkast far more than it does Eminem or gangsta rap.
It opens in breathless fashion: a PSA about a North Korean invasion and a first track proper (‘Get Away’) that chimes and twinkles as Yela attacks, serene and venomous all at once. Indeed, the first half of the record achieves its aims flawlessly. Overall, Radioactive’s only Achille’s heel lies in its scattergun approach. Every box must be ticked. So ‘Good Girls’ is simultaneously cheesy and condescending, prefaced with an Eminem skit that suggest Yela knows as much, and ‘Write Your Name’ is clearly designed to be Alabama’s own ‘Empire State Of Mind’. It isn’t. Much better is ‘Made In The USA’, a clever indictment carrying a Rihanna-esque vocal from Priscilla Renea, and ‘The Hardest Love Song In The World’, a perfect expression of rough, romantic sentiment. Scattergun having done its work, the album’s length weakens its impact and Radioactive tails off dramatically towards the end. By ‘Last Song’ you can almost hear the producer shouting, “He’s rapping about his relationship with his absentee father, quick, wheel in the po-faced piano!”. Luckily for Yelawolf, his mission has long since been accomplished. The numerous highlights should ensure the spotlight is firmly on him for the foreseeable. Deservedly so.