So, does Acey do, or does he die? Well, a little of both. Aceyalone is simplifying things musically and lyrically in an effort to expand his fanbase; generally, it doesn't work. Gone is the esoteric street prose, replaced by, well, rap. Although it's solid, Accepted relies too much on repetitive themes within a song ("Never Knew" and "Rappers"). The cleverness of such songs as "Master Your High" (a plea for drug users to not act stupid) and "Five Feet" (hip-hop's first ode to haphephobia) is negated by the paltry beats beneath. The most in-the-pocket member of FF, Aceyalone benefits most from deeply layered or uptempo beats. But Accepted's sparseness and sluggish b.p.m.'s find Acey struggling to keep the listener's attention. Aceyalone is in a predicament similar to that of Pharoahe Monche: a brilliant writer who is unable to produce anything terrible but, frustrated by lack of attention, makes music not creative enough to alienate or slick enough to sell.
This struggle is even more apparent on Accepted Eclectic's standout cuts; the common thread running through all of these is that it seems as if someone spent more than 45 minutes composing the beat, and this energy is contagious, giving Aceyalone the spring in his step he needs to be the genius he is capable of being. If he can harness more of this energy on the next record, this future Hip-Hop Hall of Famer can reclaim his throne atop the b-boy kingdom.
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