Real men wear purple
It amazes me that Cam'Ron feels that he needs 24 tracks to rehash the same gangsta crap that the majority of high profile rappers over the past two years have already put out. Coming in at nearly 78 minutes, the purplest thing here is Cam'Ron's cock when he's jacking himself off, because this album is pure gangster masturbation.

Let me put it this way; Purple Haze is definitely for you if you feel that you have not heard enough of the following terms (all direct quotes from the album): "chicken head," "trigger," "selling pies," "flippin' bricks," "I'm getting money," "your budget on my neck," "I don't trust a ho" and "fa-shizzle."

I can see why Jay-Z was surprised when Cam was made a VP of Roc-A-Fella while Jay was away on vacation. There is very little substance here and nothing that you have not heard before, done better by someone else. This album itself feels like the type of record that a better rapper's protégée would put out as his first misstep into career hell. Unfortunately, in this case, Cam'Ron is the one at the top of the food chain, and it is his Dip-Set underlings who are forced to live in his feminine colored shadow.

More blah than boo ya
Considering Dame Dash's reputation as a strong-headed, business-minded hip-hop mogul, it continues to surprise me how many of the albums that come out on his label are downright lame (Memphis Bleek, I'm looking in your direction). In a way, this is a perfect example of how if you tell a lie long and strong enough, it almost becomes true. In this case, the lie is that Roc-A-Fella Records is more than just two men: Jay-Z and Kayne West. And since Jay's "retirement," they are down to just one. That's a big burden to carry in just one backpack.

On the other hand, perhaps Purple Haze is indicative of what a great business mind Dash really is. The album is bland, not overtly offensive. The beats sound like the presets on the Roland MC-505 drum machine, and probably didn't cost too much. And the guest appearances are not exactly noteworthy, mostly comprised middle of the road no-names and other artists from Roc-A-Fella--once again saving the label money. The fact that "National Treasure" has been the number one movie in America for three straight weeks is a perfect example of how something doesn't have to be good to make money. This record will probably crack the top ten on Billboard, where it will remain for just less than a split-second, giving the label a small opportunity to turn a profit.

The only producer of note on Purple Haze is Kayne West, and both of Kayne's beats that appear here sound like they have been passed over by everyone else and have been sitting in a desk drawer at Roc-A-Fella for the past few fiscal years collecting dust. Purple Haze proves that when you make something out of purely mediocre parts, you can't expect it to come out bulletproof. If this album were a car, it would probably be a Kia or a Saturn. Certainly not the "Coup colored as Winnie Pooh" that Cam refers to on the track "More Reasons."

Top heavy like an porn star with a smelly ass
As far as the positive aspects of Purple Haze, some of the tracks are fairly warm when taken in moderation. "Killa Cam" isn't a total waste. The album is pretty much top heavy-the better tracks are towards the front. It's when you start getting near the middle of the album that you really lose all hope that it will salvage itself.

As far as the bonus track, "Take Em to Church," dising Ma$e is like shooting fish in a barrel or challenging Mohammad Ali to a fight in 2005. Ma$e's return was never meant to save hip-hop. It was purely for him, for old times sake. I bet that Ma$e will probably go the high road and barely acknowledge the beef. But while we're on the subject, Ma$e's comeback was one of the most poorly handled situations in hip-hop in recent history, and that blame can be spread out among a few individuals that I don't need to name.

If I could tell one thing to all high profile rappers, it is that less is more. Give us 45 strong minutes, save the rest for a mix-tape. That will give them plenty more time to "move bricks," "pop gats" and "run New York." Holla.

All in all, this album desperately tries to cling onto the outdated idea that if you are not gangster, you are not an MC. Hip-hop needs a strong artist to push this crap to the back burner like Nirvana did to hair metal back in 1992.