Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded, by Nicki Minaj

Dont worry about that televised exorcism at the Grammys, Nicki Minaj fans. Apparently, it didnt take. Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded, Minajs second official disc and first since becoming a pop star, confronts her image problems head on: How to reconcile the fierce, foul-mouthed, probably sociopathic (its really for a licensed professional to decide), street-spitting Minaj of her vaunted early mix tapes, with Minajs current occupation as a candy-coated, pink-bewigged Super Bass Barbie?

Roman Reloaded splits the difference, dividing its 19 songs into rap and pop sides, which means that Minaj isnt so much subverting expectations as giving in to them. Twice. Your enjoyment of Roman Reloaded, pops most tuneful hollow victory, will probably be inversely proportional to your level of attachment to the original, authentic Minaj. The hip-hop songs some so dirty they should come with their own hazmat teams are feature-heavy, unerringly sharp and almost entirely great. But they cant help but seem less fierce against the pink fluff of Romans second half.

(Courtesy of Universal Republic) - Cover art for Nicki Minaj's Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded

The first side is all business, less concerned with beats most are minimalist and perfunctory than with a raw display of Minajs increasingly formidable MC skills.

On Come on a Cone, Minaj delights in the trappings of her newfound fame, which apparently include six-figure feature appearances and a seat next to Anna Wintour at, of all things, an Oscar de la Renta show. There are other great bangers, such as the sticky 2 Chainz coupling Beez in the Trap and the R&B-minded Right By My Side, a three-way teaming of Minaj, ! Chris Br own and an overly zealous vocoder. (All of Minajs guest stars are men: In case Stupid Hoe doesnt make it plain, she isnt much for the sisterhood.)

Elsewhere, the Female Weezy and the Actual Weezy tangle uninterestingly on the virtually beatless title track, which demonstrates Minajs eagerness to take a howitzer to a series of paper targets: Lil Kim, Bubbles the Chimp, crusty hoes.

The only thing thats pop is my endorsement op, Minaj rasps, although the song is, paradoxically, the gateway track to the albums pop-on-steroids second half. The next seven or eight tracks are a multi-car pileup of ridiculously great, immediately forgettable hooks. The garish Starships is a bubble-gum Top 40 striver that makes Super Bass sound like a song by Tyler, the Creator. It makes matters painfully clear: Minajs competition is no longer the 90s ghost of Lil Kim. Its Katy Perry.

Minaj doesnt have a natural instinct for hooks, but thats what superstar producers are for, and Roman ships them in by the truckload. Sometime Lady Gaga producer RedOne is responsible for a cluster of club songs that follow Rihannas We Found Love down the EDM rabbit hole. Theyre so heavenly, you wont notice how empty they are, and, next to the street songs, how indistinct.

As you might expect on a 68-minute album, filler abounds. The fame-makes-me-sad-sometimes Marilyn Monroe shows off her semi-impressive range but otherwise neednt exist. Unlike for many celebrities, vulnerability doesnt make Minaj more interesting.

Minaj seems to have made her peace with both stardom and unnecessary R&B songs youll have to do it, too, someday, Azealia Banks but thats no excuse for Sex in the Lounge, a half-hearted jam thats mostly about sex. You know, in the lounge. Its simultaneously so unnecessary and so far from where she started that you half expect a crooning Usher to show up and seal Minajs mainstream fate once and for all.

Stewart is a freelance writer.

Recommended Tracks

Beez in the Tra! p, Come on a Cone (Roman side), Right By My Side, Whip It (Barbie side)