CD Release - Ludacris on the couch

Earlier this summer, the early line on Ludacris' fifth album, Release Therapy, was that he was coming for all the critics who dismissed him as a comedian. "Never sold cocaine in my life but I'm the fuckin' man/Do as you say on your records or shut the fuck up man," he raps on "War with God," the first song to be leaked from the album, where he compares himself to all the so-called thugs who seemingly earn more respect than he does.

The official first single, however, is "Shake Your Money Maker," a more typical club joint on which Luda and Pharrell Williams get their shine on. The resulting Release Therapy contains a little bit of both styles, ranging from the DJ Toomp-produced "Mouths to Feed" (where Luda claims "I'm a working machine") to "Woozy," a sex number with R. Kelly. Songs like "Do Your Time," where Ludacris and famous ex-con rappers Beanie Sigel, Pimp C and C-Murder talk about survival within the prison system, offer a broader canvas than the sex-rap/battle-rap dichotomy Luda usually offers.

The difference between Release Therapy and Ludacris' first four albums is that its tone is earnestly sober instead of jokingly lighthearted. He jettisons the goofy punchlines from his repertoire, instead sticking to tightly written metaphors and similes that confirm his status as one of hip-hop's most talented rappers. Its tension derives from him wanting to show the world his greatness, particularly in light of continuing skepticism from hip-hop traditionalists over Southern rap's artistic relevance.

If Ludacris only scratches the surface of his emotional depths, it's because Release Therapy is too clean and polished. Like Jay-Z, his fellow rapper-turned-boss on Def Jam, Ludacris is a great Hollywood director, not an underground auteur. His music contains the sentimentality and cathartic triumph of a Steven Spielberg picture. As he says on "Warning," "This album helps you release/Because life's irking us all."