Acclaim and accolades do not go hand in hand with success and goodwill. Not for Will Smith, at least. The Academy Award winner and previously chart-topping artist appears to be left in the past by listeners, judging by his streaming numbers and album sales, that is. What should have been a career-defining awards win for Smith turned into a night still deemed one of the most controversial in Academy history. What relevance does this have to his latest album, Based on a True Story? The very purpose of an autobiographical-like album release is to exonerate the soul, to build back the faith audiences once had in Smith. His star power is fading, his music now a pastiche of itself, a fad which died out long ago. “You can’t cancel no icon,” no, but you can turn to more interesting releases. Smith has stiff competition and can barely hold court on this forty-minute slog.
Based on a True Story is certainly in the conversation for one of the worst albums of this year. He tries to clear the air of recent years by acting unbothered. His Oscars win is overshadowed by a slap, his filmography of late is as bad as it gets, and yet he stands proud and unbothered. Opener Int. Barbershop – Day is the crass and self-centred blur which only works when there are achievements for the listener to be both appreciative and envious of. Appearing in Aladdin and riding off roles from twenty years ago is no victory. DJ Jazzy Jeff makes for a competent additional feature on this opening song, though the parts where Smith takes lead on the vocals are a tremendous letdown. You Lookin’ for Me?, maintains Smith is undisturbed at how people view him. How wrong he is.
It is the very basis of being concerned about public image that forms Based on a True Story, a repetitive album which overwhelms the solid instrumental work with constant references to a present which, don’t forget, Smith isn’t bothered by. The Reverend (Rave Sermon) and Rave in the Wasteland is at least a tempo-altering thrill. It would be better without the writing Smith brings, but it feels inevitable given the mid-life crisis series of events which inform Based on a True Story. There is a wonderful instrumental flow to be found on Based on a True Story, a medley-like continuation from song to song which means the album glides on by without underscoring any particulars. Tantrum throws what its title would expect and yet comments on the same few messages, those previous paragraphs could be copied and pasted to assess the latter half of Based on a True Story.
“You can sum me up on just one finger,” Smith jokes. But it is true. Between his surface-level artistry on camera to the sub-par music, it is hard to think of what else now defines Smith. Based on a True Story tries to toe the line between autobiographical structure and winks to the present controversies, but the worst part of all is the latter are not, really, controversial. Obnoxious and one note, absolutely, but the production value and instrumental skill goes a long way in keeping Based on a True Story flowing. For all his promise of inner peace, the storm still rages, the ego yearns for more. Work of Art is a knock at those who see themselves as Christ-like in their artistic offerings. We can hope it is, anyway. Otherwise, it means Smith sees himself as a revolutionary who will headline the history books. The annals of history will look rather different. Awards winner makes self look a fool is not as interesting as Smith is inclined to believe, who spends much of Based on a True Story desperately chasing the influential star power he once held. Enjoy Scarborough.
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