Nicki Minaj The Pinkprint
Don’t press play on Nicki Minaj’s third studio album expecting to hear the same woman who brutally cameo’d on Kanye West’s “Monster” back in 2010. Nor is she the cut-and-dry pop queen who Godzilla’d up the Billboard charts with “Super Bass” and “Starships” shortly thereafter. The Pinkprint is the next step. And propelling it forward is one of the nastiest collections of producers to come together on a record, its starting lineup comprising the producers behind an absurd amount of Grammy nominations over the last few years: Alex da Kid (Imagine Dragons), Will.i.am (The Black Eyed Peas), and Dr. Luke (Katy Perry, damn near everyone else). While the producer talent is a major component of a modern record’s success, Minaj isn’t on autopilot.
Besides the most blown-up, blown-out single, the “Baby Got Back”-sampled “Anaconda,” the record is almost entirely wistful and introspective. Now Minaj points her barrel inward, blasting away at her own organs, painting pictures of inner warfare instead of the overdone battle-wage on the “hater” shadow council—not terribly far from Young Money labelmate Drake’s progression into bummerdom. She opens the album paying tribute to a child she aborted in her younger years, and as the record spins on, her poppier hits are the sharpest, the most painful, and the most candid—or as candid as the spotlight allows.
