But should we be paying more attention to him?
[Video]
[5.29]
Megan Harrington: Generally speaking, Big K.R.I.T. is a tedious rapper prone to eschewing anything catchy. Lately he’s sacrificed a bit of the labored lyricism for big production, and “Pay Attention” is a fun listen. The song builds symmetrically, adding interludes and hooks, ultimately ending in a chorus of the song’s best moments: Rico Love’s “I should be paying more attention to you” falsetto and K.R.I.T.’s “toot it up, turn ya out” bars. The verses serve up a sermon on club dynamics, but even that is palatable in small doses.
[8]
Alfred Soto: Luscious production designed to make us pay attention, but Love’s rank Usher impression sounds like a comment on K.R.I.T.’s colorless rap. An apt comment on the male rap-R&B axis.
[3]
Micha Cavaseno: If I didn’t know this was Krit, I’d assume it was Lil’ Ugly Mane or Salem or someone else who thinks chopped and screwed music should sound like Myspace trip-hop. The Southern Lupe Fiasco strikes out again, because I can’t imagine anyone without a heavy batch of ketamine in wait thinking this could be enjoyable. “I think that was her song!” he blusters, lying his ass off because this is nobody’s song, the DJ is not wheeling this back, and hopefully this bit of musical malware gets lost.
[1]
Patrick St. Michel: Probably a minute too long — the slowed-down self-reflection interlude really should have been edited out — but overall solid. I’m not really sold on these two existing on this track together, but each handle their segments well.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: Of course Big K.R.I.T. is from the deep South; he’s got that Big Boi-ish drawl, and knows what to do with it. Which means he can spit. Rico Love is of course an awesome writer and producer for the likes of Usher and Beyonce, but here he’s the silky-voiced hook singer, contrasting superbly with K.R.I.T.’s grit. Jim Jonsin is on production duties but gets this one right. In fact, this jam hits every note right.
[8]
Brad Shoup: It’s really something to write the perfect song for a strip club at 6 a.m. K.R.I.T.’s up in his head, convincing himself he didn’t piddle away eight hours. Meanwhile, the DJ — way past caring — clicks on an Usher tribute track by mistake.
[3]
Tara Hillegeist: Outside of the post-dancehall hook from Rico Love, K.R.I.T. punches with his usual shootist’s flow, comparatively unadorned and as invested in his images as ever. His admiration for the object of his affections is palpable, man, he treats her like she’s doing work to respect, moving so good, looking so confident. Makes me feel powerful and inspired to hear him go on, but this isn’t the whole picture and we all know it. We’re more than our body’s business. That’s another story, for another song — all she needs from him in the club is his adoration; all he’s in a position to give, here, is his respect. Leaving it at that is weak work — and expecting more from this song is cheap heat. But I can’t help but wonder, right now. I can’t get the question out of my mind and it makes it difficult to engage with the song beyond it, if I would forgive him so readily for being so considerate and appreciative if his words read as “easy” as any hand-drawn cartoon this well-drawn. It’s an unfair, disingenuous question — thinking pictures are any more inherently “easy” than words because they’re more immediately “read” is a mistake to begin with. But this thought is a ghost, and it’s haunting me. I can’t find an answer I’d leave the club with. So I’ll ask it of you. What are you looking at, when you look at a woman with those eyes?
[7]