Send "Yelawolf " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 There's a curious moment at the end of the sixth track on Yelawolf's major-label debut. It's "Throw It Up", one of the album's highlights. After the song ends, there's a skit where Yelawolf and his boss, Eminem, discuss the course of the album. Eminem tells Yelawolf that the album needs songs for women, love songs specifically. Yela, for his part, feigns protest. It's presented as a conversation that any label head might have with an artist, but including it on the album is a bizarre and remarkably cynical move. It's unclear whether it's presented as a warning, an apology, a cop-out, or all three, but it more importantly marks exactly where a potentially great album starts to go off the rails.The idea of "crossing over" is something almost every rapper at a major label has to deal with. Making songs about, and for, women-- be it about love or dancing-- to gain popularity is a move about as old as the genre itself. For some rappers, it's a seamless transition. For others, it's not. It can be frustrating and dispiriting to watch the formula applied to a career that has yet to take shape, though it's a process everyone more or less knows is coming. It's also a route that can be rejected (a recent obvious example being Odd Future) or navigated deftly ("No Hands" didn't lose Waka Flocka any cred). Or, I guess, one can take the path Yelawolf chose, to lamely act as if you're a prisoner of a system that you chose to enter and make half-assed songs as if sentenced by law. And with that rehearsed conversation with Eminem about making love songs for women, Yelawolf is trying to absolve himself from the responsibility of about one-third of Radioactive being decidedly half-assed. The middle of the album (featuring hooks from the likes of Priscilla Renea and Fefe Dobson) is far and away the worst music of Yelawolf's career, and he knows it. His rapping is passable, but the beats are leaden and uninspired and the hooks are about as canned as possible. It's hard to imagine what the market for those songs is, really-- I can't imagine that Yelawolf's female fans want to hear him rap about conventional romance, or want to hear a potentially good song about blue-collar American life drowned in a syrupy chorus....full text |
| Xxlmag |
| Yelawolf’s road to stardom wasn’t paved in gold. The Alabama native trudged through back roads, dark clubs and, at times, a whiskey-induced haze, to make his way to the top. On his proper debut, Radioactive, Wolf combs deep into his past experiences, backed by slick production by way of J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League, Diplo and Jim Jonson, among others, to twist a tale that’s every bit as satisfying as poppin’ the top on a cold one after a long day. Throughout Radioactive, Yelawolf utilizes a barrage of double-time rhymes over brooding beats with bottom-heavy drums. He impresses on the Fefe Dobson-assisted “Animal,” a pocket of lyrical bravado. “Trashy White, pass the mic, Yeah I’m doing em dirty,” he spits over the bouncing synths. “Fists start pumping when I’m in the lights, like I’m rapping in Jersey.” On the menacing “Throw It Up” with Eminem and Gangsta Boo, Yela doesn’t yield on the mic. “I got two cars in the yard that don’t run, so why the fuck would I break shit down for you,” he sneers before moving out of the way for Em, who puts on a rhyming clinic. “My, Yelawolf and Gangsta Boo came here to, show you a thing or too/About sign language, middle fingers aimed at you, so we don’t have to scream at you.” Next to another veteran, Mystikal, Catfish Billy slows his flow, for a measured take on life (“Get Away). Likewise on “Slummerican Shitizen,” with Killer Mike. Here, the two swap stories on depravity and second-class citizenship. “I’m on the sidewalk with this fuckin’ skateboard and these dirty ass jeans,” Yela raps. “I’m the boy that stole a pack of Twinkies And a bottle that’s green...full text |
| Latimesblogs |
| Southern rap and Southern rock haven’t necessarily been the most obvious of bedfellows. But on the Alabama rapper Yelawolf’s debut studio full-length, he finds an awful lot of kinship in the dirty South’s stylistic exports. “Radioactive” builds on his nimble, more orthodox mix-tape compilation “Trunk Muzik 0-60” for an album that, while scattershot and overstuffed, is a compelling showcase for this very able and charismatic MC. Yela’s at his best when his venomous, speed-freak flow gets to dominate. The 808 patter of “Let’s Roll” has an unexpectedly soulful chorus from Kid Rock, but the verses tell a convincing tableau of rising from slow-rolling prescription-pill popping to real pride. “Hard White (Up in the Club)” rides a moaning, goth-exotica vocal sample while Yela works between two very raw musical worlds, boasting that “you’ll never see rock ’n’ roll do hip-hop like I did.” That worlds-collide quality puts “Radioactive” all over the place. Diplo and Boregore continue their dubstep infiltrating chart-rap mission on the wobbly face-melter “Animal,” and “Everything I Love the Most” is essentially a gutbucket blues lament. The record’s too long by a third, but Yela’s smartmouthed, serpentine delivery (and it’s hard not to make Eminem comparisons when Shady executive-produced the record) keeps the thing screwed together....full text |
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