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Having embarrassed himself publically numerous times, and suffering the ignominy of being dropped from his record label, it’s possible we’ve seen the last of Charles Hamilton. Hopefully dude’s taking a serious time out, perhaps spending some time on Dave Chappelle’s funny farm in rural Ohio. But before being forcibly removed from the Hip-Hop premises, he left behind something for his fans, a record of both his talent and flaws in the disjointed This Perfect Life.

Admittedly Hip-Hop heads have deserved meager expectations for this offering—this being an unreleased, rejected album that was supposed to be for the free. An unfinished product; it has no definable beginning, middle or end. The production lacks refinement. Mediocre beats like the dull strings of the terribly titled “Post-Lynching Ceremony” drift on as instrumentals for minutes, and function only as sleep-aids. Charles isn’t immune to bouts of laziness behind the mic either. The dissonant “Three Pound Bullet,” has the foundation of a good album cut, but Sonic can’t be bothered to stay on beat. By the third verse, he may as well be ranting on your local street corner.

Yet the man has an obvious magnetism that draws you in, and the best tracks of This Perfect Life, showcase why people got on board with Hamilton in the first place. He openly reflects on his home struggles on opener “Barbara Walters,” eliciting genuine sympathy with descriptive rhymes: “Charles senior beat my mother’s ass in front of me/didn’t even matter if she had some company/grew to be my own man but my Dad is under me/remind her too much of him she get mad and come at me.” His free associative style works best when it has a familiar hook anchoring the proceedings such as the girl-angst offering “Ghosts.” But it holds up less well when seasoned spitter Crooked I shows up to steal “Tears of Fire,” with his own suicidal thoughts.

For professional Hamilton haters, there’s plenty to fuel the fire. Too many tracks, such as the six minute plus “Long Socks,” sound like throwaway freestyles, the work of someone too high on his own greatness and unwilling to grind out unimpaired songs. But worse is his persistent woe-is-me attitude—a lot tougher to take considering he’s proven to be an insufferable ass. The tone and suicidal threats of “All Alone,” definitely disturb—Chuckles sounds like someone about to strangle himself with his own Genesis cord. Yet as he screams “somebody somebody help me out,” he comes off as a kid looking for attention rather than a truly twisted soul. To quote angst pioneers Radiohead: “Charles you do it to yourself and that’s why it really hurts.”

With proper mentorship, a better work ethic and a little less plagiarism, Charles could’ve lived The Perfect Life. Instead this album has you wondering how much more time he’s got. In the rap world at least, time’s up.

2.5 CIGARETTES

Download — Charles Hamilton – This Perfect Life (Unreleased)