Playing with Fire Label: Federline Records/Reincarnate Music
Exhibit A: Mr. Kevin Federline’s new album Playing with Fire (the DIRTY version). The most anticipated album of 2006, if only for the confirmation that it truly does suck and ultimately fails, ringing louder than Corey Clark's career implosion post-"American Idol.” There’s no point in comparing K-Fed to Vanilla Ice, because Ice made lots of money, and Ice had a hit. People still talk about Ice. Ice still gets on TV. No one will be talking about K-Fed in ten years, if even next year. Still, this album needs a review. Hopefully you’ve been expecting it. Let’s break this fucker down track by track now, shall we?
“Intro” – Your ears are guaranteed to receive excessive blunt force trauma from this track alone. It opens up with a mix of children’s voices that finally culminates in one poor kid saying “Grandpa, can you tell me a story about when you were young?” K-Fed then makes his first appearance with a sinister laugh! He says, “Gather ‘round, children!” This is then followed by some homemade “news reports” about how K-Fed’s marriage is crapping out, how he’s a bad father, and how he parties too much. Then there’s an odd barrage of sound effects, including the sound of a glass breaking and then a sword being unsheathed. What, the, fuck?
“The World Is Mine” – In the first of too many tracks, K-Fed attempts to rap about how tough it is to be him. He compares himself to Captain Cook. Clearly he’s completely delusional, since Cook was a genuine badass. There’s some weird-ass “tropical” sort of flimsy loop mixed with the sluggish beat that only serves as a soft nest of poop for K-Fed’s “I’m trying to read and recite the lines I wrote while getting bombed on OE 800 last night, yo” lyrics. He discusses smoking weed. He should lay off and leave it to people who know how to abuse it properly.
“American’s Most Hated” – Kevin sighs at the beginning and says, “Waitress, can I have another drink, please? I’d like to formally introduce myself.” What, the first two tracks didn’t establish that this is indeed the loser K-Fed? He sounds all drunk during the intro, but then tries to pull his shit together out of the Zima with a sidecar of Red Bull haze he’s gotten into by attempting to sound tough. “I’m one of a kind with a wonderful rhyme / I’m skatin’ off in a ‘rari, you’ll get left behind,” he muses trying to sound all gangsta while another slow beat and overused dramatic tinkling piano loop dry humps itself in the background. “And my dawg’s still down, we don’t trust them ho’s / I live life like a king, I was etched in stone.” There are also some fingers snapping. Hopefully they’re actually the sound of the producers breaking their fingers for accepting the money to make this song.
“Snap” – In this ditty, K-Fed brags about how he has to do nothing anymore but snap his fingers to get what he wants. Yeah, I suppose the folks down at the trailer park are impressed with his shit. Once again he talks about loose women and smoking weed. Well, at least he attempts to rap about things he knows about. “Kev Federline and I pull better dimes ‘cause Benjamin Franklin is a friend of mine,” he asserts. Yeah, living on the wife’s money sure does rule, doesn’t it?
“Lose Control” – It’s the album’s first single. Hopefully it will be the last. K-Fed brags about how he rules in the clubs. No, Kevin, they’re only letting you in because they want to have something to laugh at while they’re puking on your shoes and doing all the fine blow that you could never afford on your malt liquor and pot salary. Again, the Fedder sounds like he was half-baked when recording his vocals as the lopsided tempo farts its way across the room.
“Dance with a Pimp” – “Baby girl wanna dance with a pimp, dance with a pimp, dance with a piiiiiimmmmp?!” Special guest Ya Boy sounds absolutely desperate as he recites those opening lines. OK, so now Fed’s a pimp. Of what, exactly? Pork rinds and Slim Jims? “I’m a platinum dude and when I’m in the groove, you can see how platinum moves.” Ah yes, it’s moving more toward the red. What’s your credit score, K-Fed? Oh wait, you’re still using mom’s Montgomery Ward plastic, aren’t you?
“Privilege” – Some guy named Bosko helps Federline out on this one by singing. He’s not very good at it. It’s a slow jam, a very typical slow jam. In this outing, K-Fed takes an excursion with his lady friend, parking his Harley and getting into his truck with his Yankees hat on and some red pants to boot. Obviously he found some good deals at Big Lots. And then, once again, we return to his favorite thing, smoking weed. “Spark the blunt, baby, and get your pass on / Burn it kinda slow, that’s good, it’ll last long!” Yeah, don’t you know K-Fed only has enough money for one joint a month? And shame on you, Kevin, for painting Brit-Brit as a dope smoking hoochie mama. You’re going to make the little girls cry!
“Crazy” – “K Federline! Bosko, we got ‘em on this one, dude!” How exactly do you have us, Kev? This little ditty features wife Britney Spears destroying the choruses with her patented slutty whisper delivery to make up for the fact that she can’t sing. “And they say I’m crazay for lovin’ you…” And K-Fed steps up to the plate to brag about…smoking pot again. Jesus, does this guy really not do anything else? Look man, if you’re going to try to dispel the rumors (facts) that you’re a total leeching loser, you have to better than this. But then, I get the feeling that everyone just sat around the studio sparking up and not caring what the hell they recorded. Just hand out the I.O.U.s, Kevvy!
“A League of My Own” – Another slow moving track in which Kevin admits he’s addicted to money and can’t stop spending it. God knows it’s tough not to buy baseball caps and grass all the time, dude. We all go through that cap and grass phase, so I know it’s tough. One day you’re fine and the next thing you know, you’re wakin’ up, reaching for your baseball cap and a joint. Shit, dude, life is tough.
“Playing with Fire” – Again, K-Fed raps about money and his addiction to it. “Since the first day I came out the womb / I’ve been money motivated, so it’s money I must consume / To the tomb I’m gon’ take ‘dis attitude.” Is the tomb just around the corner? More lazy beats and a shitty loop of synth strings help K-Fed get his lazy ass to the finish line. Hooray for the pass/fail concept.
“Interlude” – K-Fed wastes more of our time by including this taped phone conversation with one of his loser buddies, who’s new “signature line” is “Does it make me a thief just because I stole your girlfriend’s virginity?” K-Fed erupts into laughter that sounds like it’s exploding from tar-coated lungs. Meanwhile, his friend can’t stop using the phrases “I’m like,” “she’s like,” and the whole “like” thing in general. 58 seconds of your life you will never get back, in other words.
“Caught Up” – K-Fed’s ode of love to his “boo.” As in, “I ain’t even been able to do my do / ‘Cause all day ‘n night my mind’s been on my boo.” And then that shitty as hell chorus, “Caught up, fist balled up / Fight for what’s right ‘cause that’s how I was brought up.” Let’s see, fighting for being a total loser. What’s that like, exactly? Oh, K-Fed, you make it too easy!
“Kept on Talkin’” – Sadly, we’re at the end of this wonderful album with another tune about how tough it is to be K-Fed. The song ends and then – oh, no – it’s a hidden track about six minutes later! “Put your middle finger up if you don’t give a fuck,” Kevin instructs. OK, I’m putting mine up right now as I really don’t give a fuck about this CD or your career, or your weed smoking, or how everyone rightfully hates you and thinks you suck, K-Fed.
So there you have it. Total coverage of the K-Fed. Was it necessary? Yes it was. Someone had to give everyone else the skinny on this in a non-diluted fashion. Sure, you knew it was going to be bad, but you need the full dose of it to just realize how bad it truly is. Maybe the “clean” version of this CD is better. Maybe it’s just a blank disc. That’s the only way this thing could be cleaned up. Thanks for the headache, K-Fed. Your mooched-off money was certainly well spent. I hope you ask Santa Claus for a big bag of grass this Christmas. You’re gonna need it, as you won’t be able to afford shit from all the money you won’t be making from this CD. And now with venues canceling your shows left and right, you’ll need more than a doobie to get you by. Good luck.