Music

Big Tuck bears a heavy burden on his burly shoulders, a sense of responsibility and duty that propels his major-label debut.

Big Tuck A Tha Absolute Truth. (Universal Republic Records)

The Dallas rapper is a member of Dirty South Rydaz, the rap crew that signed a $7.4 million deal last year with Universal. He's the first from the group to release an album, and its success or failure could help determine DSR's future.

More important, a hot-selling record could attract more major-label interest in Dallas' rap scene, the same way hit albums from Houston's Mike Jones and Paul Wall helped lead to dozens of lucrative record deals in their city.

With that in mind, Cedric Tuck, 26, has crafted a serious album about money. Tha Absolute Truth explores the way sudden riches can change people, reveling in newfound wealth while growing wary of friends and hangers-on.

Brian Harkin / Special Contributor

It's clear that Tuck sees himself as more of a businessman than an artist. He's responding to his role as the Dallas scene's Great Hope by doing what he does best. At all costs, he must make money so that others may get rich after him.

"If you ain't talkin' about money, what you talkin' about?" he asks on "That's What's Up," one of the album's best tracks.

Like any good entrepreneur, Tuck gets a thrill out of the pursuit of cash, and that excitement sparks life into Truth. On another great song, "I Know U Want That," Tuck rhymes about "getting paper" over a fuzzy, vibrating bass line. Dallas production duo Play N Skillz laces the song with epic keyboard notes and a twitchy beat. The song practically hums with electricity.

The sinister side of money shows up on "Bottom Bitch," a funky slow jam praising those rare women who stick around when financial times are bad. On "Ain't No Mistaken," guest singer Erykah Badu reprises some lyrics from her song "Danger," singing about the way money gets a man into trouble.

Tension makes these songs work. On the album's more laid-back jams, when Tuck is in repose, surveying his kingdom, his Cadillacs and his mansion, his weaknesses show. His aggressive, barking voice doesn't have much inflection or character, and he doesn't seem to have an innate, powerful sense of timing and delivery. But no matter. This is about commerce, not art.

BOTTOM LINE: Tuck's sheer relentlessness makes his album work, by and large. With Truth, he shows the music industry that Dallas could be a good investment.