Are we already at the point where artists like Christina Agulera and Ludacris have so many albums in their respective catalogs, that now they are seeking a “more mature effort” with their latest releases? Luda’s Release Therapy is the man’s fifth release with Def Jam, and definitely shows growth for the still budding emcee/DTP label head, yet holds him back as well. 

      The Neptunes produced single, “Money Maker” suggests that nothing has changed in the world of Chris Bridges, but when you compare and contrast hooks with his last Neptunes banger, “Southern Hospitality”, “shake your money maker” seems pretty tame next to “you got some big titties and a matchin’ ass”. Don’t worry – he hasn’t gone soft – in fact, with Release Therapy, he’s penning some of his most introspective and boldest verses yet. “Mouths To Feed” finds Luda with the weight of the world on his shoulders, confessing that he is responsible for the lives of some 30 people – from his family to his label-mates, over a dope beat from newcomer Happy Perez. Later, we find Luda baring even more of his soul on “Tell It Like It Is”, which could be dubbed as “the realest shit he ever wrote.” Here, he puts the non-business minded rapper in his place with lines like “how you gonna own three cars when you don’t even own your own name?” On “War With God”, while suffering from lackluster production and song structure, Luda carries the track lyrically by getting some shit off of his chest in light of recent beefs.  

     But the grown folks’ perspectives of Release Therapy don’t hurt it, what separates this from being another great album from Ludacris is the fact that he has saved money on production this time around. Throughout his career, we’ve all been spoiled by multiple beats from Timbaland, Kanye West, Lil’ Jon, The Neptunes, and others. This time we have to settle for second stringers like The Runners and the Trak Starz (do these guys race each other or something?), and then even further down the totem pole with DJ Nasty & Lum, Joshua Monroy, Vudu, Polow Da Don, among others. Yeah, we’ve never heard of them either. Unfortunately the new talent ends up making this sound like one very generic rap record, despite Luda’s always on point lyrical prowess.  

    Still, he does assemble a random assortment of guest artists, but few do much to make the album any greater.  Among them, R. Kelly stands out on the sleazy “Woozy”, but Young Jeezy seems out of place, all-of-a-sudden appearing, not even five minutes into the album. The thoughtful “Do Your Time” finds Luda sharing cell blocks with Pimp C, Beanie Sigel, and C-Murder – except he’s the odd man out here, never having done time. Using Mary J. Blige for “Runaway Love” seemed pointless, when his own DTP soul singer Shareefa could have filled that spot. He could have put that dough towards a Timbaland beat. Or three Alchemist beats.

   So what’s the reason for the newfound maturity? Call it a spiritual awakening, as Luda makes reference to his relationship with God/Jesus three different times on the record. While it’s speculated initially when he makes mentions earlier on the album, the point is driven home on the last song. “Freedom Of Preach” begins like the typical “Coming To America” shady preacher sketch, you suddenly you realize that he is dead serious. After Luda has confessed his sins lyrically for three minutes, and Bishop Eddie Lee Long preaches-on for a good four more minutes after that. Damn, how’d they sneak church into my car like that?!?!?

     Nobody can be mad at Luda for cleaning up his act a bit, especially since he is still killing it on most every verse on the record. It’s unfortunately the bargain basement beats that keep this record from being another great addition to his already thick catalog. Maybe his next release can get some therapy from the right beat doctors.