Black Eyed Peas

He no longer wants to be "that guy."

You know the kind of dude he's talking about.

Ego so big it needs its own tour bus.

More attitude than a thousand grounded teens.

Knees forever bent at the altar of his own awesomeness.

Taboo's been there.

He doesn't want to go back.

"I'll hear my song on the radio, and I'll go to the next station," says the Black Eyed Peas rhymer, whose given name is Jaime Gomez. "Before, I used to be like, 'Oh my God! My song's on the radio!' But now, it's become such a natural thing that I don't get too carried away with it. I know that if I do get too carried away, and I think, 'Oh, I'm back on top. I'm this, I'm that,' then I go back to being that guy who was caught up with the egotistical way of being."

And that way of being came with a price tag, one of Saks Fifth Avenue-style heft.

As Gomez speaks, you can tell that he doesn't want to sound like a cliche, even if he did stumble right into some of fame's most obvious potholes.

"For a while, I had trouble adjusting to it, just like everybody who goes through stardom," he says. "You get caught up in the demons of being in that lifestyle. Some people get caught up in drinking and that nightlife, and I was one of those people who was susceptible to that. But I overcame those obstacles. Looking at myself now after two years of sobriety, I really feel like I'm in the place that I should have been a long time ago."

Now a husband and a father, Gomez sounds reflective and at ease with himself.

And his group has hit a comfortable stride 10 years into their career, with their fifth album, the electro-enhanced "The E.N.D.," further strengthening their grip on the pop airwaves, which they've had in a headlock for much of the decade.

The group will be performing Tuesday and Wednesday at the Mandalay Bay Events Center and also will be hosting the New Year's Eve party at LAX inside Luxor.

It's a long way from the Peas' origins as an underground, socially aware hip-hop troupe, who have since morphed into a commercial steamroller with a sing-songy urbanity. They possess B-boy moves, but balance them with a big-lunged singer, Fergie, weaned on classic rock.

The Peas' latest disc is perhaps their most linear and direct, with but one thing in mind: the dance floor.

To hear Gomez tell it, this is a reflection of two of the Peas, will.i.am and apl.de.ap., spending some of their downtime from the group touring the world as DJs.

"They made relations with people like David Guetta and Steve Aokie, all these tastemakers in that scene," Gomez says. "Then, when it was time to create an album, Will was like, 'Yo, this is reminiscent of when we first used to go to hip-hop clubs in the late '80s, early '90s,' where it would be these deep rooted underground beats with MCs rhyming over them. Now, you have these electro beats, which are hard, but nobody's rhyming over them. We wanted that feel."

As such, "The E.N.D." feels like a more cohesive effort than what the Peas have done in the past, when their albums were pop pastiches. It's a melodic, immediate disc, where the Peas don't rhyme on the beat, but around it.

The BPMs are faster, the record sweatier.

And it's taken this bunch to the top of the charts once again.

Gomez says he's more appreciative of that position than he was in the past.

He sounds like a kid as he talks about his band, as the success of "The E.N.D." reminds him of his beginning.

"At 5 years old, my grandmother would always pretend that I was performing on a stage and would introduce me, like, 'Now, welcome, from Los Angeles, California, Jaime Gomez!' " he recalls with a chuckle. "It would be me performing in her living room, but that inspiration sparked me. I just always wanted to be on a stage."

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.