Photo: Shane Nash
"All I want is money, fuck fame. I'm a simple man..."
--Tupac Shakur
Devin the Dude's debut album, The Dude, chronicles his flaws and fuck ups while displaying an entertaining quagmire of hyperbole, humanity and misogyny without the mainstream machismo so often laced with blatant vulgarity.
Notwithstanding his casual relationship with the profane but, standing alone takes courage and a seemingly innate ability to give zero fucks about pundits.
This tenet upon which the Houston rapper built his career allows him to exist peacefully in his stratosphere—only tapping into the matrix to re-up on pussy, reefer and beer before returning to his idiosyncratic rap space.
Devin's 1998 offering nonchalantly departs from his contemporaries' authentically bankrupt sameness by addressing growing pains' vulnerability amid attempts to navigate his journey sans societal acceptance.
The Dude is like a well-doodled composition notebook from a student apt to take a window seat to daydream. It is akin to a "C" student who splays his inherent genius on the blue lines of white paper as his teacher lectures about shit that pales by comparison of his images of coital caricatures and burning blunts with thin plumes of smoke billowing from them. ...