With their fourth-album, Outkast invoke the rebel Southern spirit to full effect. Realising there is something rotten in the state of hip hop, the Atlantan local heroes have staked out their own territory, Stankonia, a Utopian republic representing the best of the Dirty South. As if in tribute to Funkadelic's America Eats Its Young , the album cover finds Dre and Big Boi staring out in front of a black and white stars and stripes. Inside they waste no time in revealing their radical agenda. "Don't everyone like the smell of gasoline?" hollers Andre 3000 on opener "Gasoline Dreams", as he sets fire to the constitution over a scorching electric guitar. The single "B.O.B." (aka "Bombs Over Baghdad") is Outkast's state-of-the-union address, a rousing gothic gospel number that advocates a "power music electric revival" as it approaches the speed of Reprazent's "Who Told You" and the epic feel of "Bohemian Rhapsody". On "Miss Jackson", they assume the role of exemplary southern Gentleman begging forgiveness from their hoochie's mama over a backing with spooky shades of Prince's "When Doves Cry". Elsewhere they eschew tradition (on tracks like "?", "Snappin & Trappin" and the B-Real-guesting "Xplosion") to invest their dirty funk with a distinctly avant-garde afro-sheen. Come election day, just sniff this stank to inhale freedom. --Chris Campion
Review by Steve Huey
Stankonia was OutKast's second straight masterstroke, an album just as ambitious, just as all-over-the-map, and even hookier than its predecessor. With producers Organized Noize playing a diminished role, Stankonia reclaims the duo's futuristic bent. Keyboardist/producer Earthtone III helms most of the backing tracks, and while the live-performance approach is still present, there's more reliance on programmed percussion, otherworldly synthesizers, and surreal sound effects. Yet the results are surprisingly warm and soulful, a trippy sort of techno-psychedelic funk. Every repeat listen seems to uncover some new element in the mix, but most of the songs have such memorable hooks that it's easy to stay diverted. The immediate dividends include two of 2000's best singles: "B.O.B." is the fastest of several tracks built on jittery drum'n'bass rhythms, but Andre and Big Boi keep up with awe-inspiring effortlessness. "Ms. Jackson," meanwhile, is an anguished plea directed at the mother of the mother of an out-of-wedlock child, tinged with regret, bitterness, and affection. Its sensitivity and social awareness are echoed in varying proportions elsewhere, from the Public Enemy-style rant "Gasoline Dreams" to the heartbreaking suicide tale "Toilet Tisha." But the group also returns to its roots for some of the most testosterone-drenched material since their debut. Then again, OutKast doesn't take its posturing too seriously, which is why they can portray women holding their own, or make bizarre boasts about being "So Fresh, So Clean." Given the variety of moods, it helps that the album is broken up by brief, usually humorous interludes, which serve as a sort of reset button. It takes a few listens to pull everything together, but given the immense scope, it's striking how few weak tracks there are. It's no wonder Stankonia consolidated OutKast's status as critics' darlings, and began attracting broad new audiences: its across-the-board appeal and ambition overshadowed nearly every other pop album released in 2000.
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