The Streets — Everything Is Borrowed

Mike Skinner intends to make our heads explode. Just when we had him pegged as an almost loveable fuck-up composing drug 'n' drink narratives about losing money in the back of one's television (A Grand Don't Come For Free) and brilliant eviscerations of the rock star lifestyle (The Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living), he up and pulls this swerve. Skinner's still the same drawling, middling talented white rapper he's always been, but Everything Is Borrowed is unlike anything he's ever done before. For one, it's musical. There's a clear and concerted effort to make actual conventional pop songs. The other, more fascinating turn involves Skinner's newfound worldview. He's moved beyond clubbing and gambling into far more introspective, philosophical and outright positive territory. "On The Edge Of A Cliff" is probably the best example, with its premise of stopping a potential suicide through pride in one's biological prerogative (I know, but it'll make sense when you hear it). "Heaven For The Weather" is just as close to Beautiful South turf as it is Eminem, "The Sherry End" romanticizes the bond of bro-ing down in a way that's neither crass nor embarrassing and "Strongest Person I Know" salutes being gentle. I don't know if Skinner has gone Buddhist or somehow assimilated the entire Desiderata or what, but Everything Is Borrowed is different from anything he's ever done before.