Chris Webby isn’t quite the Pokémon he thinks he is

On Election Day, I crawled into a blacked-out van on Frankford Ave. for an interview with Connecticut hip-hop hop artist Chris Webby. The rapper released his debut album, Chemically Imbalanced, on Oct. 28 and was playing the Barbary that night.

Our conversation started with his politics — “If you wanna stand behind a message to make change, which I like to think that I do, you gotta actually vote” — and ended with his evolving views on condoms and Soulja Boy. I learned a lot, most of all that there is an unfortunate gap between Christian Webster’s self image and the maturity of his music.

In case you are unfamiliar with Webby, the dude is prolific. His “debut” is his 11th project since 2009, following two EPs and eight mixtapes (one of which was the first ever to crash the premiere mixtape website DatPiff due to the volume of downloads).

When asked how he’s grown as an artist since his first release, Webby answered with a characteristic video game reference:

“I’ve basically leveled up. I have evolved into the Charizard that I always dreamed of being.”

In case you are unfamiliar with Pokémon, Charizard is the most advanced stage in a Charmander’s life cycle. It’s orange and looks like a medieval dragon. It breathes fire.

Returning to Chemically Imbalanced:

“It’s a far more mature project, and I spent a lot more time on it than any other project that I’ve ever made. It’s cohesive. The fans have never quite heard anything like this out of me.”

For the fans who’ve listened to his previous material, though, that statement isn’t quite accurate. A self-described environmentalist, Webby has always done his fair share of recycling. Excluding “Brim Low,” a predictable track about the pressures of fame, Chemically Imbalanced essentially revisits subjects and rehashes material longtime listeners know by heart: women, weed, video games and cartoons and comics, awkward choruses, an overreliance on end rhymes, defenses for being white and middle class, unfounded boasting, and struggles with A.D.D.

For instance, let’s take a look at a line from “Fer Sher,” off Webby’s first mixtape:

I’m a hot commodity

Bangin’ bitches condom free

Now fast-forward five years to “Turnt Up” on Chemically Imbalanced:

Bangin’ these broads with no fuckin’ protection.

Yo, what were you sayin’ babe?

I wasn’t payin’ any fuckin’ attention.

Now four songs later, on the title track:

Blazin’ tree and skippin’ class/ Gettin’ drunk and missin’ math

Bangin’ chicks without a rubber/ Crushin’ pills up on the desk

This is just a selection of the “condom free” lines in Webby’s oeuvre — you can basically guarantee one per project.

But the rubber lines aren’t the worst offenders on the album. Webby reuses a pun that wasn’t clever the first time around on the track “Do My Thang” on Teenage Mutant Ninja Rapper: “I’m spittin intense but I’m not goin’ campin’.” On the first track of Chemically Imbalanced, he raps “I don’t care, I’ma vent. And get fucking intense like Native American sex.”

When a white rapper makes a lazy pun about Native Americans having sex in tents — especially on the first verse on the first track of his debut album — it damages his credibility as a mature, socially conscious rapper.

Even without the pun, though, Webby’s political track on the album, “Stand Up,” falls flat. Though he starts with a strong focus on environmentalism, the song fizzles out as he tries to address every societal ill. The cliché chorus — “Stand up! Stand up! If you gonna fight for what you believe in!” — doesn’t do any favors either.

It’s true that the album’s production is more polished, but many of the added effects are distracting and unnecessary — like Webby’s oddly lecherous vocal adlibs. Though the three skits on the album are meant to make it more cohesive, they don’t relate to the title track or assemble a common theme for the LP.

Given the superficiality of Webby’s music, it’s puzzling to reflect on his past criticisms of Soulja Boy and his ilk, whom Webby views as “carbon copies” with nothing to say. When I asked Webby what distinguishes his numerous party tracks from those of the artists he’s criticized, he also recognized the contradiction. Though he still believes he’s lyrically superior, he no longer disses other rappers on wax (unless there’s personal conflict) — a sign of genuine growth.

“I’ve learned just by meeting some of these rappers. I don’t really like their music, but they’re mad cool. Why would I talk shit about them?”

That generous statement is the only reason I have qualms criticizing Webby’s music here. As far as I can tell, he’s a warm and open person who works hard to create genuine connections with his fans. During the concert, Webby pulled an audience member onstage to rap “50 Barz” with him, swapping the mic back and forth. They had natural chemistry, they killed it, and it was an incredibly cool and touching moment. When fans rushed Webby’s van outside after the concert, he stepped out to chat, give autographs, and take pictures.

None of that makes his music better, of course. I listened to nearly 150 Webby songs before writing this article, and there’s only one I would like to listen to again: “Dirty,” off The Check Up. It’s funny, catchy, and exemplifies the Webby condition. Though he flaunts his sexual experience, he just comes off as, well, young.