Nelly Furtado f/ Lil' Wayne: "Maneater (Remix)"

There’s a breaking point between a vocalist and a producer where the song can only go one way. A moment where one lays claim and the other chokes down weekend responsibilities. Balance is a tease, and always tips. “1 Thing” is Rich Harrison’s; “Go Crazy” became Jay-Z’s, a track that didn’t even have Jigga in mind. It’s different for soloists; their asexual agenda can’t be hindered by label abeyance, copyright canon, and most importantly, artistic outclassing. On “Maneater” (and unsurprisingly enough, most of Loose), Timbaland made Furtado little more than a texture for his club shattering single. Her forgettable lyrics melted into an alloy of plowing synths and boot clobbering drums. For his remix, the kicks get downplayed in favour of ominous choir chops couched in dirty, swollen keys. But Wayne, still reeling from a lineage of verses bordering on high-art, doesn’t let Timb’s new bender get the best of him. For a fleeting moment, his impeccable cadence and stinging lyrics assume ownership of this otherwise producer indulgent arrangement.

Though still on the cusp of his magnum opus, Wayne is definitely at his first creative maximum. For a year he’s been playing alchemist; chewing up beats and spitting out unadulterated panacea. The evolution from a gimmicky teenage rapper Mannie Fresh made fashionable to a well thought out satirist has been something of a hot point for months. A young, unique, talented writer dishing dance-friendly jams subliminally laced with poignant lexicon. A style all too weird for real commercial abundance yet destined for critical acclaim. Probably not the rapper’s Dr. Octagon, there was a still a sense of chicken counting when Birdman Jr. first started growing up. Timbaland, redefining himself yet again, comes closest to properly harnessing said gift. Weezie’s only crime is not spending enough time on the cut, jumping out before we can even absorb all he has to say. Romancing the groundwork in place for him, Wayne’s grind overflows with charisma. Summing it up: “I’ll be Diddy, you be Mase / eat me up, enjoy the taste / if I be with it, ya’ll be fake / I’m a put it right there for ya on that plate / c’mon call me Young Weezie baby baby aye yes / I’m a m-m-mouthful now let me see ya digest.” Shit.