The signs were there. The commercials for ProActive. The silly daily video blog on his myspace. The transparent attempts for gansta street cred by involving himself in shootouts at clubs.
I'll come correct and say I've never really forgiven him for gettin' paid for his shamelessly commercial expropriation of Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir". But today, I offer this dispassionate critique of the latest offering from Diddy's ouvre, "Come to Me":
HorribleSomewhere today, Chuck D must have a really bad headache.
It starts with a couple of weak rhymes in Diddy's poor imitation of the slurred East Coast rap style, and then lots of Diddy's shoe-shine boy influenced dance breaks. Then the video moves on to lots and lots of gyrations from an out of work stripper who lip syncs a weak version of the already weak genre of soul r & b. (Update: my days from being a teenager daughter informs me that the "stripper" is the actually the lead singer of the Pussycat Dolls. Same thing, I tell her). The lyrics are about nothing. But Diddy's acne appears under control, so I guess he'll pick up an extra check from ProActive.
I'm a white 44 year old who drives a mini-van and lives in the last overwhelmingly white suburb of L.A. County, and this has been your report from the streets.