Rap artist Pitbull's The
Boatlift would have made an interesting instrumental album, pure and
simple. The actual music is good for background noise (more on that later), but
the lyrics are completely immaterial. As Pitbull himself states so eloquently
on the final song "Mr. 305" (one of three a capella tracks), "The flow is
retarded." Yeah, that's no joke, as it sums up the album rather succinctly.
After giving this a listen twice through, there is no hint on why it is called The Boatlift. Sadly, however, that is
perhaps the most logical thing about this hourlong commercial.

There is no reason, logical or otherwise, why a rapper as
bad as Pitbull has three a capella tracks here. He cannot rap to a beat, so why
did he think he could rap to silence? The only thing the silence accomplishes
is to show Pitbull has less rhythm than a nerd on the dance floor. Nevermind
the wordplay — his lyrics don't matter on any level. English or Spanish, the
words are utterly irrelevant. Literally, a handful of songs are nothing more
than a beat and Pitbull (and, of course, guest) chanting Spanglish for three-and-a-half
minutes.

The (unintentionally) funniest moments on the album are when
Pitbull or said irrelevant guest tries to be clever. Case in point, listen to
"Candy Man," where Pitbull states, "It's sorta like golf when I'm swingin' this
iron/ But even Tiger Woods has his off days/ And me, I've had my soft days." I'm
not honestly sure where to begin explaining how ridiculous that is. At least
when Jay-Z compared himself to Michael Jordan on "The Best of Both Worlds," there
was a legitimate argument that could be made to that egoist comment; here, it
would have made as much sense for Pitbull to state he can turn water into
Cristal. At least the production is decent, right?

The all-star list of producers here would argue that, even
if the lyrics are stupid, the beats are "ill." It's too bad Lil Jon and Swizz
Beatz, among others, phone in their production. Nothing here is innovative or
even hints at creativity, not even the obvious Cuban influences make any song
stand out musically. Certainly, the beats will get people moving in a club, but
they are forgettable just as soon as the song ends. In short, the percussion
and samples are enjoyable for the sake of being fun, but their existence ends
right there.

Despite all that negativity, there are two positive aspects
in the album. One is the runtime; Unlike most rap albums, this disc does not
approach the 80-minute mark and overstay its welcome. The other is that this
collection is devoid of skits that are not funny the first time they're heard.

That said, I would call this, far and away, the worst album
of the year, but this is not music –qualifying it as such would be like qualifying
Spam as meat. Forget the stereotype of emo music; if you listen to The Boatlift, you truly do hate
yourself.

1/2 star out of 5