** Rob Swift

THE ABLIST

(Asphodel Records)

Soulful Fruit, Rob Swift's 1996 mixtape-turned-LP, was an unqualified gas -- talent on loan from God applied to rough-edged, misty-eyed soul records on loan from Pete Rock. And when they play live, Swift and his crew, the X-ecutioners, are merciless groove chasers, hotdogging the beat like Harlem Globetrotters.

But on his first solo studio album, Swift comes off like a well-intentioned music-theory professor and ends up sucking the air out of the room. The Ablist translates the pathos of New York underground rap to the turntables, with Swift demonstrating his methodical Technics techniques amid frowning flute loops and moody, concrete-canyon ambiance (think Mobb Deep). He backs a few generic tough-guy rappers, cuts up classical piano, and trades licks with a five-piece band on a plodding acid-jazz flashback called "All That Scratching Is Making Me Rich," until you're like, "Okay, okay, DJs are musicians -- can we go now?" It all gets ridiculous on "Turntablist Anthem": while a Vinia Mojica-type vocalist croons "Hey DJ, keep playin' that song, keep scratchin'," MC Gudtyme pays tribute to Swift's amazing backwards, between-the-legs DJ style and the "sluts on the side" who worship his skills. Sure, it's catchy, but does turntablism really need its own "King of the Surf Guitar?"

-- Alex Pappademas