Dennehy

“Favorite actor Dennehy, favorite drink O’Doul’s/Bears, Hawks, Sox, Bulls” — how’s that for an origin story? The title cut to this album not only reveals Serengeti’s gift for elaborating on a type-of-guy taxonomical character observation, it launches an alter ego in Kenny Dennis, Ultimate Chicago Guy, that Geti developed into one of hip-hop’s most fascinatingly weird characters. We see further insights into Kenny’s eventually-outlandish backstory that successive albums flesh out; his paeans to classic rock and cool cars in “New Dodge” (rhymes with “still got my Fiero in the garage”) also hint at a husband-wife relationship that’s not as indelible as he fronts (the defensively protective “Don’t Talk to Jules” — the “Jueles” spelling would come later). But he’s not the only character here, only the most enduring fictional one. Other weirdos linger on the margins — like obnoxious, condescending wannabe-player Derek, who acts like distributing meth makes him as glamorous as Pusha T — but it’s the things that seem to linger in Geti’s own memory that draw the rawest attention. When he turns inward he ties in his fondness for ‘80s VHS genre flicks into a sense of on-the-brink personal excess he hopes eventual success will level out (“Critters”). And when he surveys the landscape he finds a surplus of existential crises, from maniacal overconsumption (“Feeding”) to a self-consciousness about dealing with one’s feelings during adverse times (the “emo” boogeyman prodding of “iPod” and “I Don’t Know”) to a hip-hop culture so materially compromised that a Tribe Called Quest biopic starring Clay Aiken as Q-Tip seems imminent (“The Neeg”). The beats-by-committee are enjoyable if stylistically scattershot, not always the highlight but often the best frame for the picture — especially when the Kenny tracks feel like a necessary series of interjections from someone who might not have it made, but at least knows his infatuations can give him some structure.