A Return to Aggressive Form for Nas

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NAS

“Stillmatic”

Columbia

The holidays typically conjure images of love and togetherness, but Nas must have missed the memo. After taking meteor-sized lumps for his recent lackluster work, the Queens, N.Y., rapper returns with guns blazing on his fifth album.

Almost literally. On one track, he brutally berates rival rapper Jay-Z (for both his fluctuating level of admiration for the Notorious B.I.G. and his affinity for Hawaiian shirts), then attacks former friends Prodigy (of Mobb Deep) and Cormega with biting, venomous rhymes.

Even though Nas unleashes many of his strongest rhymes when he’s attacking his adversaries, he also delivers a strong batch of selections elsewhere. “Rewind,” for instance, is a titillating crime caper that takes place in reverse, while “My Country” examines some of the transgressions America commits against its citizens. These songs are typical of the top-tier lyricism that first made Nas a household hip-hop name. Regardless of topic, he has regained much of the lyrical firepower that had eluded him since his classic debut album, 1994’s “Illmatic.” He’s shown flashes of brilliance since then, but “Stillmatic” comes closest to matching that high standard.

--Soren Baker

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CUBAN MASTERS

“Los Originales”

Pimienta

Just when you thought the Cuban retro craze was passe, another tasty set of traditional music comes along to remind you of the music’s timeless appeal. This time, though, the recording comes from Miami, not Havana. Call it the exiles’ answer to Ry Cooder’s Buena Vista Social Club.

Like Cooder’s famous project, Cuban Masters is an impromptu gathering of aging but still talented musicians, including bassist Israel “Cachao” Lopez, percussionist Carlos “Patato” Valdes and the late flutist Jose Fajardo. They may not have the personal charisma of their island counterparts, but this group makes up for it in skill and energy. “Los Originales” sounds like Buena Vista on Viagra.

Their percussion is snappier, their instrumentals livelier, their arrangements fresher, thanks to trombonist-musical director Juan Pablo Torres, the catalyst behind the classic “Estrellas de Areito,” which brought together Havana’s best in 1979. True, this group is bigger--22 musicians in all, doing mostly descargas, or jam sessions. Their outstanding individual contributions include the spicy yet delicately nuanced trumpet of Chocolate Armenteros and the intricate piano duet of Alfredo Valdez Jr. with Alfredo Rodriguez. The Cuban Masters are not likely to revive the flagging nostalgia trend, but they deserve a spot in any respectable Cuban music collection.

--Agustin Gurza

In Brief

** Lil’ Bow Wow, “Doggy Bag,” So So Def/Columbia. Write what you know, our grade-school English teachers told us; it’s not a great rule when applied to preteen hip-hop. With experience lagging so far behind innocence, righteous indignation is in short supply. Jermaine Dupri protege Lil’ Bow Wow is a street-tough tyke, a kind of Dennis the Menace to Society whose mission is to inculcate the pleasures of rap in adolescents. On his tedious second album, Master Wow is a thuggish pug with an appetite for girls and clunky self-promotion, but his mini-me gangster act loses its flavor faster than an old Tootsie Roll Pop.

--Marc Weingarten

**1/2 Limp Bizkit, “New Old Songs,” Interscope This collection of Limp Bizkit hip-hop remixes is an improvement of sorts over the original material. At least listeners don’t have to deal with guitarist Wes Borland’s obnoxious riffage competing with Fred Durst’s braying, mad-as-heck raps. A clutch of ace producers, including Timbaland, DJ Premier and Butch Vig, nudges Bizkit’s sound into heretofore unfathomable sonic territory, where nuanced arrangements and beat diversity hold court. Call it unhip-hop.

--M.W.

*** The Soundtrack of Our Lives, “Behind the Music,” Warner Telegram/Hidden Agenda. Whatever happened to boomers’ rock ‘n’ roll? It’s alive and playing air sitar, thanks to a Swedish sextet that demonstrates classic rock is not necessarily Jurassic rock. Its third album, released earlier this year and available through the Midwestern indie distributor Parasol, brims with urgent riffs and unaffected melodies, fringed in mellotron, strings and horns. Whether reveling in a Stones groove or reeling in Beatles psychedelia, TSOOL pushes buttons, not envelopes. It’s a comforting sound, the breathing of a genre that needs no hyphens.

--Kevin Bronson

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Albums are rated on a scale of one star (poor), two stars (fair), three stars (good) and four stars (excellent). The albums are already released unless otherwise noted.