This newfound focus is evident right off the bat with “Airborne Aquarium,” debatably Curren$y’s best technical performance to date. While the former was the result of the two just making songs in the studio until they had enough for a full-length, this time they reunited more focused than ever to make a proper album-minded follow-up. But what separates Pilot Talk from Pilot Talk 2 is that this time, Curren$y and Ski took a much different approach. Yes, marijuana is his muse, but his celebration of the rich pothead lifestyle revealed something infinitely more interesting and deeper than his “where my weed-smokers at?” contemporaries. Even those – myself included – who initially didn’t feel Curren$y’s stoned-out performance did Ski’s production justice eventually came around to realize exactly what made his contributions so great. That’s not to say such a feature is rare in the genre, rather Pilot Talk had something of an intangible “it” factor that compelled listeners in an over-saturated climate to stick with it long enough to realize how much it truly had to offer. With production handled by reliable veteran Ski Beatz (Camp Lo’s Uptown Saturday Night, Jay-Z’s Reasonable Doubt) Pilot Talk became the latest on the short list of recent rap albums critically championed for having a certain subtlety that allowed for infinite replay value. 2 and B.G.’s Chopper City in the Ghetto) proved not only just as good, but were logical extensions and arguably, better than their originals. Fortunately for us, Curren$y comes from a long line of New Orleans rappers whose successively released sequels (Big Tymers’ How U Luv That Vol. Dre’s 2001), most sequels are a cheap marketing ploy from a desperate artist attempting to reclaim relevancy or a quick cash-in from star of yesteryear hoping to bank off a disillusioned fanbase’s nostalgia. While there are two great ones (Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2 and Dr. Rap album sequels are a tricky and often disappointing lot.
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