Planet Pit

Question: when it comes to lyrics, where do you draw the line between bad and so-bad-it’s-genius? Sure, it’s easy to ridicule someone for committing to wax the first stupid or oddball thing that comes into their head, but more often than not, it’s just as easy to give them a hearty pat on the back for it. When professional hot mess Ke$ha snarled that she was about to brush her teeth with Jack Daniels, the world whooped and hollered. When game-changing basketcase Kanye raised his glass to the douchebags, we all clinked along.
The paradox of the guilty pleasure lyric is impossible to ignore on Planet Pit, the sixth studio album from Cuban American rapper Armando Christian Pérez (that’s Pitbull to you, me and 253 million YouTube users). Recognisable by some frankly absurd facial hair and a wardrobe that makes Plan B look like Tom Ford, Pitbull is closer to sleaze queen Ke$ha than critics’ fave Kanye. While he shares West’s ginormous ego (he refers to himself as Mr. Worldwide), in the past his music has veered into novelty country, with ringtone-friendly tunes like ‘Bon Bon’.
Then there are Euro-dance monster hits like ‘I Know You Want Me (Calle Ocho)’ and ‘Hotel Room Service’: for all their brainless repetition, noughties dance floors genuinely wouldn’t have been the same without tunes like these. So, when straight-up club jams like these worked so well, you have to wonder why Pitbull has chosen to up the lyrical ante.
Whatever his motive, the laughable epigrams come thick and fast on Planet Pit – ‘International Love’ sees Pérez brag about having a girl in every port (“I don’t play football but I touch down everywhere”) and later, give a full run-down of all the various nationalities he’s tapped (“In Lebanon, yeah, the women the bomb”). On ‘Come N Go’ he has the audacity to purr, “Mama, you’re the Internet and I’m looking for a download”. The deluxe edition takes things to eye-rolling new levels of cliché, with entire songs based around a single chat-up line. ‘Mr. Right Now’ takes cues from a come-on so ancient, I’m pretty sure Douglas Fairbanks used it to pick up Mary Pickford.
Even more bizarrely, his flow briefly morphs into a kind of nursery rhyme rap, with lines like “If you’re sexy and you know it, say ‘Oh Yeah’’’, and “Whoop dat ass like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”. Delivered Ke$ha-style with tongue firmly in cheek, it could almost have worked, but layered over bombastic ravehall beats, it’s just godawful.
Yet, there’s a reason the Miami native went from selling 200,000 albums (2006’s El Mariel) to 2 million (2009’s unfortunately-titled Rebelution) in just three years. The 30-year-old has made a career out of rehashing the familiar. ‘Hey Baby (Drop It To The Floor)’ samples ‘Push It’ by Salt ‘n’ Pepa, while ‘Shake Señora’ bites off a chunk of Harry Belafonte’s ‘Jump In The Line’. Pitbull is rarely heard without a mind-melting array of guest stars, in this case club-hopping playboys like Chris Brown and Enrique Iglesias and hyphenated chart-toppers like Ne-Yo, T-Pain. Of 12 tracks, only two do not bear the word ‘Feat.’, album highlight ‘Pause’ and the ridiculous ‘Something For The DJs’, which was co-written by chart golden-boy David Guetta.
Still, If there’s one thing Planet Pit (wasn’t that the name of the diner in Beverly Hills 90210?) can be hailed for, it’s consistency. For 42 minutes, the record throbs along with an unyielding inane vivacity, something I almost welcome in the fickle iTunes era. Credit where it’s due, ‘Took My Love’ has a massive melodic kick, while ‘Give Me Everything’ is a tune-led robodance banger.
Simply put, if you’re looking to be teleported to a hot and heavy Miami nightspot in the wee hours, there really is no better album. Those not willing to be chatted up by a growling egomaniac on a sweaty dance floor, however, should leave the club immediately.