In the same way that we might only be able to tell if we’ve flattened the curve in hindsight, we will also have to look back in retrospect to find out if Drake’s already reached the peak of his career. There are arguments to be made about when exactly he reached that point musically. Was it on 2016’s Views?Nothing Was The Same? IYRTITL? Because it certainly wasn’t Scorpion. In the minds of some, Drake will, if he isn’t already, become the cultural and musical archetype of what a rapper can be in the fabric of American culture. He reached pop stardom with hip-hop as the vehicle. That’s not a jab or even an insinuation that Drake’s a culture vulture because, frankly, Drake’s dictated popular culture for the better part of the last 10 years. Lil Wayne, Kanye West, and Jay-Z laid down the foundation for Drake to reach the type of mainstream success that he’s been able to attain. But as Drake reaches a point in his career where he’s broken records, collected plaques, and has dozens of trophies to his name, we’re left wondering what Dark Lane Demo Tapes actually contributes to his illustrious career. 

Entering the 2020s, Drake already had the bragging rights of claiming he has more hits than the Beatles and soon enough, he’ll have either tied or exceeded Madonna for most top 10 singles on the Billboard Hot 100. But what does that truly mean at the end of the day when the music that’s being released is, at best, mid? Drake’s set a bar for himself over the years as both an artist and a brand. A consistent one, at that. His most recent efforts have thrived off of nostalgia. Care Package was exactly that — arriving just days before OVO Fest, he took the year off to celebrate the Toronto Raptors first Championship trophy and to bank off of previously released singles that were only available on YouTube or Soundcloud. And the people ate it up. A compilation album of loose songs sold more records in its first week than the majority of rappers sell in a month. But in an opinion-based sport where album sales and Billboard charts carry more weight than the music itself, Care Package marked Drake’s ninth consecutive number one album on the Billboard 200.

For Drake, it’s effortless. He drops music, the people, including his haters, find something to appreciate about it. Dark Lane Demo Tapes surely has the same effect on people. The “surprise” factor though seems more tactful than the OVO team leads on. Not necessarily because of the three-hour notice we all received, but simply based on the fact that there isn’t another rapper in the game, aside from Jay-Z, who is as calculated as Drake. There’s intention behind every step, every move, every word he raps in his music. So when he mentions that Noel and Oliver put together the project in a matter of days, it feels a little hard to believe. 

“War” closed out an otherwise quiet year from Drake as he dove into a new buzzing sound that had yet to seep into mainstream hip-hop, marking a stylistic shift. Then, he delivered one of the “time-stamp” type joints with the double-hitter of “When To Say When/Chicago Freestyle” that showcased his lyrical weight with nods to both Jay-Z and Eminem. But the loose records and leaks that formed Dark Lane Demo Tapes were lackluster, especially for Drake’s standards. Sure, there are notable moments, but just how memorable are they when a large portion of the project was comprised of leaks? Drake immortalizes pivotal moments of his life with his pen while scoring the soundtrack to ours. But in the wake of a global pandemic that’s claiming thousands of lives, will we look back with glee that, at the very least, we got a new album from Drake? Probably not. In all actuality, it wouldn’t be shocking if “Toosie Slide” triggers PTSD after the global pandemic ends. 

That’s the problem with Dark Lane Demo Tapes, though. Even a song like “Toosie Slide,” that’s essentially been constructed to have the same type of success as “God’s Plan,” isn’t firmly propped up atop the Billboard Hot 100. It’s a hit, and not even French Montana can take that away from him but this week, “Toosie Slide” slid down to number 3 on the charts with Travis Scott and Kid Cudi’s “The Scotts” claiming the top spot and fellow Torontonian The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” sitting at #2. Despite everything that has haunted his career from physical confrontations to getting exposed for keeping a ghostwriter on deck, the one thing that truly no other artist could hold against him was his numbers. There isn’t a single one of Drake’s contemporaries — whether in hip-hop or not — who can compete in terms of his Billboard numbers or album sales. “Toosie Slide,” specifically, felt far more contrived than any other Drake song. He’s typically creating the waves, or if he is riding it, it’s before the rest of the world catches up. But Drake is a 33-year-old father — TikTok isn’t supposed to be his main audience unless he recently decided to cater his music to Adonis’ play group. 

If numbers are truly an indication of anything in the rap game, it reflects the public’s general curiosity rather than their approval. However, there’s been a dip in streaming in the past few weeks, in spite of the global pandemic. By the end of March, the U.S. music industry hit a new all-time low in album sales with 1.52M album-equivalent units sold in the week ending on March 19th. Tory Lanez even admitted his “low” sales for New Toronto 3 was due to the decline in music consumption. However, the Drake brand is meant to be pandemic-proof. Solid enough to weather any economic, social or political storm. Dark Lane Tape Demos is expected to move 230K to 255K, but it’s in a tight race for the #1 spot on the Billboard 200 against country star Kenny Chesney’s new album who’s expected to move 220K to 235K– with nearly the entirety of those numbers coming from pure album sales. A country star ending Drake’s streak with nine consecutive #1 wouldn’t be the most unimaginable thing to happen in 2020 but if it were to happen, would that be a sign that Drake’s status as a chart-topping behemoth is beginning to deteriorate? 

With a vault that’s guarded by the precious lives of OVO shooters and engineers, the string of leaks over the past year took part of Drake’s artistic and entrepreneurial control away from him. He had his B-Rabbit moment when he turned weaknesses into strengths by adding “(LEAK 2020)” to the titles of Soundcloud drops. The highly-anticipated release of “Pain 1993” with Playboi Carti, the song that forever found itself surfacing on the web through low-quality recordings and short snippets, fell short of expectations in its final outcome even though the demand was high. Drake gave the people what they wanted. Still, regardless of how Drake plans on identifying this project, collaborations with artists like Young Thug, Future and Chris Brown will still resonate in some fashion with the public, even if it’s based on Spotify algorithms.

The lion’s share of the album is familiar ground for Drake — reminiscing on old flings from Houston, grandiose flexes that only he can relate to etc. Even so, there are flashes where he foreshadows the next move. Songs like “Deep Pockets,” “Landed” and “From Florida With Love” dive into this muddy, foggy whirlwind of production that takes animated derivatives of Soundcloud, lo-fi production while refining it for radio play. Largely due to 40’s trusted ear and Turkish-Swiss producer Oz’s contributions, there’s clearly parts of Drake that’s yearning to tread new grounds. Even on a song like “Landed,” Drake’s flow seemingly takes note from some of the young boys, namely OVO affiliate and possible signee, Smiley, though he’d argue that it was because of his Cartier pen. 

This project ultimately marks a chess move on Drake’s part. Dark Lane Demo Tapes is, after all, an easy money grab. Call me a conspiracy theorist if you will but given Drake’s meticulous nature, Dark Lane Demo Tapes feels like a way to lower expectations ahead of his next album. I mean, even as television production halts and touring plans put on hold, Dark Lane Demo Tapes is likely a means of generating income with B-Sides that demonstrate just how easily he makes a hit record. Quotable bars for days and earworms for hooks that I’ve only grown more fond of as the days pass.

Let’s not forget that the last time he graced fans with a surprise body of work, it was If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late. Shifting the trajectory of Drake’s career and his sound as a whole, it further pushed him closer to the realms of the GOATs. And there’s an argument to be made that the initial response to Views didn’t meet expectations because of how If You’re Reading This was received. Dark Lane Demo Tapes seemingly plots on a reverse effect; delivering mediocrity to hold fans over while safely locking away the gems for his next album.

Pockets of growth are scattered throughout a project that can otherwise be compared to the hip-hop equivalent of NBA Playoff reruns in the COVID-19 era. Drake pushed the boundaries of hip-hop as far as he can and those he’s influenced are still trying to find their foot in the game. Can anyone knock Drake from the top? Maybe not, but that’s with all things considered — he’s taken hip-hop to new heights, for better or for worse. Dark Lane Demo Tapes has a purpose in his catalog, though not in the way that it’s been sold. It moved 100K units within its first four days of its release which is expected of Drake. At the end of the day, the real accomplishment doesn’t necessarily trickle down to numbers. The world evolves, as does the game, and to keep up, one has to adapt. Drake’s done that over the past few years more so than he’s birthed any new style. He’s relied on others to help him accomplish that. The follow-up to Scorpion will ultimately dictate whether Drake remains a musical and cultural powerhouse in the decade to come.

It’s impossible to discuss Joyner Lucas’ studio debut ADHD without mentioning the elephant in the room. The infamous rollout. A rollout that has been ongoing since October 2018 when “I Love” first landed. And while Joyner kept a steady influx of new songs in the interim, it became clear that the conceptual nature of his staggered release was running the risk of derailing ADHD’s cohesion. Given the title and thematic subject matter, it could be argued that the choice held artistic merit. Be that as it may, one might counter that a concept should only be pushed so far.

Now that the album has arrived in full, dwelling on the rollout feels like a moot point. Years down the line people will have forgotten all about it, left to contend with the music as presented. Whether or not Joyner wanted listeners to enjoy his album as a linear body of work is difficult to discern, a commentary that in itself incites an interesting discussion on authorial intent. Perhaps that’s a topic best saved for another day.

It was a choice and a brave one to commit to. In honor of Joyner’s piecemeal build-an-album approach, perhaps it’s time to try a similar approach in this review. Breaking things down on a song by song basis.

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Given the introductory skit “Screening Process,” a disturbing tone-setter evocative of Eminem’s “Dr. West,” it feels as if Joyner did attempt to map out a voyage. Themes of ADHD and mental health are well established in what feels like an origin story. In keeping with Joyner’s cinematic flair, the nightmarish qualities are rendered effectively through a creepy script and committed voice acting. A promising start.

In keeping with the “origin story” narrative, “I Lied” certainly signals the darkened state of Joyner’s morality meter. Celebrations of duplicity are rendered triumphantly over an eerie instrumental, a curious juxtaposition against Lucas’ flex-laden bars. An antihero’s anthem. As the official “intro” of the project, “I Lied” serves to immediately capture attention, the perfect marriage of strong production, effortless technical prowess, and thematic integrity. 

“Isis” feels like foot placed firmly on neck. Yet another up-tempo instrumental continues the album’s momentum as both Joyner and Logic seem to engage in an unspoken competition of showmanship. An anthem fueled by competitive spirit between two former foes–that and a harpsichord–Joyner’s clever touch for pacing shines thanks to these back-to-back bangers.

On paper, a Young Thug and Joyner Lucas feels bizarre. “The War” detes from its predecessors with a sharp left turn into new stylistic territory. It’s a risk that pays off thanks to some soothing guitar-driven production, the likes of which has become commonplace in today’s landscape. Joyner’s versatility becomes evident for the first time so far, his melodies well-balanced with Thug’s lush cadence.

Words from “Chris” Tucker speak volumes. What a co-sign. “Smoke a little weed, get your mind right,” advises the Rush Hour star. “You been, you been milkin’ the fuck out that album cover, man, way too long. So I hope this music’s good because if it’s not, I’ma be highly upset.” True.

Track six, “I Love,” is the song that started the journey in the first place. A pivot from Joyner’s more conceptual fare, on the surface the song feels like a typical braggadocious cut by insert rapper here. Luckily Joyner is talented enough to get by on the strength of his charisma, his prioritization of lyricism boding well in his favor. Joyner’s crossover appeal might be subtle, given some of his prior (admittedly heavier) material proved slightly alienating, but his ear for contemporary production always helped him fit in.

Speaking of Joyner’s heavier tracks, “Devil’s Work” is a callback to the likes of “I’m Not Racist” and “Frozen,” designed to evoke emotional responses. Whether songs of this nature resonate is a matter of personal preference. Given that we’re already seven songs deep and this is the first of its kind it does feel like a welcome detion from the banger-heavy onslaught. Lucas’ message hits all the harder thanks to some unapologetic intensity. It’s impactful and one could likely write an entire essay about this track alone. I suppose that speaks to the depth of his pen game, brought to life by a willingness to bleed emotion into a performance.

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“It’s my birthday I’m bout to get lit-lit,” warns Joyner, on the opening lines of “Lotto.” It didn’t take long before he got back on his BS, hitting cruise control for the first time. Lyrically, Joyner falls short of his typical bar and finds himself –not quite lost–but disoriented in the sauce. Luckily, ISM and Mally Mall keep him blessed with an infectious orchestral bop, one that requires little effort on Joyner’s part to keep things rolling.

“Lotto” isn’t enough to sate a “Kevin” Hart scorned, who does his best Fofty impression on his titular skit. “You think ’cause I’m five foot two I can’t box?” he warns. “I’m 5’4″, I’ll whoop your ass, swear to God. Get your ass whipped by a munchkin.” Two for two with the comedian co-signs.

Circling back to the melodic sensibilities of “The War,” Joyner Lucas channels the dulcet tones of Ty Dolla $ign on the delicate “Gold Mine.” Though understated, the track’s strengths are numerous thanks to a confident performance from Joyner, who rides the instrumental with a malleable flow. He’s having fun on this one and we’re all the better for it. The same can’t be said as confidently on the Chris Brown-assisted “Finally,” however, which finds the “Stranger Things” duet aligning for the most unconventional track thus far. Though both parties are too talented to fall flat on their faces, the synth-heavy track feels like an outlier, a leftover from the long-lost Angels & Demons project included for the sake of posterity.

“10 Bands” was released back in July of 2019, riding the high of a post-ScripturesTimbaland’s creative momentum. Like its predecessor, the track feels a little out of place, rocketing along on the strength of nostalgia. It works, given that Joyner is clearly thrilled to be connecting with a hip-hop legend, but an interesting conundrum is beginning to unfold. On one hand, the album’s concept gives it carte blanche to venture across the stylistic spectrum however Joyner sees fit. On the other, its lack of a greater thematic throughline leads to an influx in aimless, if still aurally enjoyable, tracks. Sometimes it feels as if he’s simply showing off, which can grow tiresome in the context of a greater whole.

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There’s a reason many will likely name “Revenge” to be the album’s crowning achievement. For the first time, all of Joyner’s most prominent strengths coalesce, from bars to flows to storytelling, leading to a song that’s appealing on a variety of different levels. It’s challenging for one, and seems loosely connected to the introductory tandem of “Screening Evaluation” and “I Lied,” a trifecta of darker ADHD cuts. It’s clear that he isn’t merely flexing over an instrumental, but rather weaving a message of great importance. An album highlight and the project’s arguable centerpiece.

It’s no coincidence that Joyner is back in the doctor’s office immediately after for some “Comprehensive Evaluation,” a powerful segue into the eponymous track. Unlike some of the album’s previous singles, “ADHD” thrives in the context of the album, imbuing it with the themes it clearly desires to explore. Though some might be put off by Joyner’s emo-tinged vocal delivery, it’s much more interesting to hear him write about the subjects that drive him. It’s strange — he’s skilled enough to out-rap the majority of flex-rappers, but when he spends too much time covering such ground it only winds up to his detriment. In a strangely thematic turn, Joyner is at his most authentic when he’s at his most alienating.

As the Fabolous & King OSF-assisted “Still Can’t Love” queues up, it feels as if a boat has been missed. “ADHD” would have been a fantastic closer, the natural climax in a strong three-track run. Yet Joyner chooses to meander with a strangely positioned melodic love song, albeit one that certainly has merit on its own. The same can be said of “Will,” which works as a wholesome homage to a legend, but ultimately feels aimless in its placement. A case can certainly be made for it being a victory lap, a heaping of crow for those that once looked down on him. Yet whatever merit it has in that regard is quickly overshadowed by the Smithiness of it all.

Luckily, “Broke & Stupid” course-corrects the thematic trajectory with a welcome dose of mature reflection. “I just bought a Lamborghini and painted the ceiling, I ain’t bragging, I’m just happy I made me a million,” he marvels, over soulful production evocative of the name he goes to namedrop. “ADHD, I was slow, now they label me brilliant, I’m proud of n***s like Hov, he made him a billion.”

As the closer rides out, Joyner’s ADHD lingers in a peculiar fashion. Never is it unlistenable or unenjoyable, thanks in large part to Joyner’s confidence and skillset. As a whole, however, it feels mired down by moments of inconsistency. Tracks that actually worked better as standalone singles, instead repurposed as roadblocks on this long-form journey. But in this age of instant gratification, it’s easy to forget that songs are more than capable of growing into their roles — let’s circle back in a year or so and see how ADHD holds up. In the meantime, it’s yours to enjoy however you see fit. 

With conspicuous tattoos blanketing a quarter of his face and gaudy garnishings of jewelry usually swinging from his neck, Blueface’s mission isn’t exactly to blend in. The same can be said about his flow. Bull-rushing against the grain is what propelled the 23-year old to internet and hip-hop stardom. From attention-seeking, meme-generating social media antics to the often ridiculous nature of his lyrics – one way or another you’re going to notice the Cash Money West emcee. Find The Beat finds him leaning further into his contrarianism. Everything from the title to the cover art is meant to relay a core concept of the artist’s brand: stand out and make noise. 

After a four-month delay, the album from rap’s fresh-faced bad boy is finally here. No expense was spared reining in contributions, with guest appearances by Gunna, Lil Baby, DaBaby, Ambjaay, Stunna 4 Vegas, NLE Choppa, Jeremih, and YBN Nahmir. The production is heavily injected with elements of piano-driven g-funk, but Blueface does push the envelope musically with tracks like “Obama,” which includes some jazz and progressive instrumental influences. A few bright spots notwithstanding, overall Find The Beat is an unimpressive collection of songs peppered with equally unimpressive lyricism from an emcee who is more flash than fire. Be that as it may, the project has a few fun tracks and some of the worst-but-funniest bars you will hear from anyone.

There are a few gems but those pebbles in “Street Sh*t” and “Dirty” are offset by tremendous blemishes like “Carna Asada.” Sadly, Find The Beat did not seamlessly sync up with Blueface’s previous work. An overuse of autotune halfway through the project almost completely derails the momentum, rendering it unlistenable in spots. Parts go from tolerable to just awful, feeling a bit more like a mixtape than an album. Important to note he did stay on the beat for a good portion of the album, however. So it is fair to say he accomplished his goal in some capacity, right?

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Small victory aside, it’s ultimately a disappointment and lacks growth from his previous project Dirt Bag. There are a distinct crop of decent songs and a very identifiable group of really bad ones. As the title and quotes from his 92.3 interviews show the rapper has a more than fair level of self-awareness; he’s conscious of his limitations as an emcee but plays to his strengths. Things you have to respect. Lil Uzi even gave him a stamp of approval and hinted at the two working together in the future, so all is not grim for the artist.

Blueface is a thought-provoking reflection of his generation. In theory, a caricature of the early 2000s rappers. An illustration of hyper-reality and over-the-top recreations of the normal. An internet troll with the microphone and the floor. I must give him credit for the sarcastic quip which does keep me engage to a degree as the album matures. His over-the-top disposition paired with sarcastic, partially comedic inflection isn’t bad and the lyrics come off competitively hysterical for almost half of the run time. He embraces defamation and in many ways uses it as fuel to feed his persona. He’s a strange study in perceptive polarization. 

Blueface told Real 92.3 that he’s already peaking beyond his rap career, hinting at moving onto the big screen. At one point in the interview, he was asked how he learned to work the internet to his advantage. To that, he responded “that was my whole come up, the internet. This day and age, that’s where it’s at. It’s almost like there’s a science to this sh*t. It’s not even about how good or how not good or any of that. You have to come up with a science project to go viral.” He’s a master at playing to his gimmick which no doubt takes a certain level of genius. What is unknown is whether he takes himself seriously. He’s in it for the moment to get what he can get out of it and then it will be over. Blueface is an artist that can manufacture magic with songs like “Thotiana” though he’s wasn’t able to capture that spark on Find The Beat. And yet despite lacking genuine ambition for musical longevity, Blueface has carved out a niche in the world of rap. For that, you have to give him credit.

When the anticipation for Lil Uzi Vert’s sophomore album reached desperate heights, he would repeatedly be rushed by fans demanding an expected release window. Uzi would often give a nonchalant response to this pestering, as if the question didn’t really concern him. In one instance, when someone shouted “When could we see the album?” as the Philadelphia rapper was entering his car, he paused for a moment to ponder. He seemed like he was deciding where he could conveniently fit an album release into his schedule, but then he just gave up, tossing out an “I don’t even know” before disappearing. While this uncertainty could have been attributed to Uzi’s well-publicized label issues, deep down, fans knew that his interest wasn’t in the album at that point. If Uzi wanted to drop, he would have found a way to drop. His indifference wasn’t performative. 

Uzi fans may have been left in the dark for some time, but he made it up to them with the Eternal Atake rollout. Uzi pivoted from secrecy to total transparency. His Twitter page became a behind-the-scenes guided tour of the album’s creation process. It all started with the December release of “Futsal Shuffle 2020”. The dance challenge associated with the single got everyone up on their feet. Uzi’s energy was back in the game and it was contagious. All the people waiting around for him were now rapidly stepping in a procession towards his sophomore effort. Uzi was skipping at the front of the pack, his newly-dyed orange hair serving as the fire that led the way.  

A week ahead of Eternal Atake’s sudden release, Uzi descended in a spaceship to beam up his followers for an intergalactic trip. His anime-inspired alter-ego, Renji, had been swapped out for Baby Pluto, a cosmic traveller who was eager to take off. After teasing that the album would be arriving in two weeks time, Baby Pluto grabbed the wheel and pushed the big red button to unload all that was in store: 18 tracks. 

Shortly after Eternal Atake was launched into the world at the odd time of 10 AM on a Friday, Uzi confirmed that the project is comprised of three parts. A fan speculated that Uzi’s personas take turns presenting themselves: Baby Pluto on Tracks 1-6, Renji on Tracks 7-12 and Good Old Uzi on Tracks 13-18. Uzi retweeted this theory and complimented the fan’s acuity. With this table of contents, the album can be dissected as encounters with foreign creatures on distinct planets. 

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For years, Uzi has been trying to communicate the message that he’s not one of us. It’s been Lil Uzi Vert vs. The World. Being perpetually misunderstood has led to some despondent moments – which have been documented on social media – but at other points, he has floated above dull earthlings with glee. In the first section of Eternal Atake, we get to see Uzi fully embrace his extraterrestrial self. The opening track is named after it, “Baby Pluto”. The plinks of keys evoke shimmering stardust and Uzi is swirling in the midst of it. The sense that you’ve left Earth is either manifested through these ethereal effects or through beats that sound like ill-fated space missions. 

“Silly Watch” is when you suspect something has gone amiss with the ship. However, Uzi appears to be either in total control or blissfully uninterested in the looming danger. A brooding synthline lurks in the background but Uzi remains one step ahead of it. His music is always most invigorating when his youthful energy translates to a rapper who refuses to color inside the lines. “Silly Watch” sets off a four-track run of industrial bangers. Over clunking production, Uzi indulges in his brashest bars. “Neck is achoo, might catch the flu / Banana clip, straight from the zoo,” he swaggers on “You Better Move”, a song which could be considered as the sequel to Luv Is Rage2’s “For Real”. Uzi’s so good at tackling these sparse, off-kilter instrumentals because his flows are rarely constrained by whatever madness is occurring around him anyway. On “POP”, he spins himself into a frenzy when shouting, “Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci, Balenci.” Meanwhile, the beat is similarly self-destructing with spastic hiccups. It makes you feel as untouchable as Uzi sounds. 

Renji arrives to pull you out of this dark region. If there was still any doubt about Uzi’s strong pop sensibilities, it’s put to rest with “I’m Sorry” and the two bubbly songs that follow, “Celebration Station” and “Bigger Than Life”. If there’s any justice in this world, at least one of these will be sent to the top of the Hot 100. He pulls out the catchy melodies and sing-songy cadences that turned “XO Tour Llif3” into a hit. While the first act of the album featured songs with impulsive interludes and stray thoughts, Renji returns to more conventional structures. These anthems are meant to get everyone to hold hands and run into the rainbow-painted animated world Uzi created. 

The dancing comes to a halt with “Chrome Heart Tags”, where you can just float in the euphoric atmosphere produced by Chief Keef. Eternal Atake’s final chunk re-introduces the rapper that we have grown to know and love. It even houses “P2”, the subdued sequel to “XO Tour Llif3”. While these tracks might not reflect some otherworldly narrative, they have enough quirks to stay interesting. The sunshine of the Renji portion trickles into “Urgency”, where Uzi passionately sings alongside Syd (of The Internet), the album’s unexpected sole feature. 

Lil Uzi Vert engaged fans in what was perhaps the most immersive album rollout in recent years. When an album can come and go so quickly these days, its embarking on these kinds of rollercoasters that allows the consumption process to exist beyond a Friday release. There will now be weeks of memories associated with these songs. The world of Eternal Atake is still expanding. Uzi is currently interacting with fans as they plot the album’s deluxe edition as a communal endeavor. We have always suspected that there was so much going on inside Uzi’s mind that we couldn’t penetrate. Eternal Atake and the whole experience that came along with it delivered what fans were desperately waiting for.  

“Sum 2 Prove” served as the third single for Lil Baby’s sophomore album My Turn. In an arena where rappers are expected to present themselves as the best, “I got somethin’ to prove / Yeah, I’m young, but got somethin’ to lose” was an admirably humble assertion for Lil Baby to make. On another one of the album’s cuts, “Emotionally Scarred”, he claims that he never refers to himself as a G.O.A.T. because he “[leaves] that love to the people.” Lil Baby has enough reason to be boastful. He came up amid a bloated class of Lil’s and Young’s and managed to nudge his way into the handful that remained relevant and exciting. While My Turn only marks his second studio album, he laced a tight string of mixtapes that solidified people’s faith in him as a prodigy in the Atlanta trap community. It’s one thing to state that you’re striving to be better; it’s another to have that truth come through in the music.

There are many moments on My Turn where Lil Baby convinces us that he’s still diligently clawing his way to the top. His hunger is invigorating on its opening track. “Get Ugly” is exactly how you want the main act to step on stage. Firstly, Lil Baby made sure not to share his spotlight with anyone, avoiding a potential impediment to his momentum. On top of that, he preserved his own energy level throughout the whole performance. The second verse on there is an album highlight. ATL Jacob’s beat strikes the perfect balance of being intimidating without falling into the corny grandiosity that too many openers have been guilty of in recent rap history. Lil Baby swerves around the terrain with immaculate control, squeezing witty insights into compact sequences: “You were not in the street, you wouldn’t last a week / My bitch so bad, I pass on freaks / I’m here ’cause my granny be prayin’ for me.”

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The 20-track project gives Lil Baby enough space to shine on his own while still being stuffed with high-profile features. The usual suspects emerge: Gunna, Future, Lil Uzi Vert, Young Thug. The electricity is so tangible when these artists come together that it can seem impossible to judge their collaborations from an objective standpoint. How am I not supposed to flip a table when Lil Baby and Gunna’s voices are swapped out over seesawing strings? Would it be unreasonable to suggest that these songs be omitted from consideration when evaluating the merit of an album? We know they’re going to fulfill their intended purpose. The table has been flipped a mere second after you press play. These loyal comrades all elevate one another to heights where you can’t discern what components are truly standing out. It’s all peak and the explosive beats they select for these occasions ensure that there’s no opportunity for everything to settle and for the listener to take note of what actually occurred.

What are we left with? If we surveil the surroundings, we still have the album’s infectious lead single, “Woah” – a predictable hit that wasn’t even insipidly formulaic. It has a sing-songy hook conducive to TikTok dancing, but Lil Baby bars out for the verses. The algorithm creeps in on “Same Thing”, though. Tay Keith throws together one of those sunny, guitar-based trap beats that capitalize on how easy it is to listen to someone with the slightest sensibility for melodic flows. This slot on the album was already filled by “Catch The Sun”, Lil Baby’s blissful contribution to the Queen & Slim soundtrack. Tay Keith’s producer tag is redeemed on “No Sucker”, where Moneybagg Yo plays Baby’s baritone counterpart. The song thrives off its sporadic off-kilter twists: Lil Baby immediately stumbles in with an “uh-oh”, the beat’s cyclical sirening clumsily hiccups, a ticking clock is sprinkled in after Moneybagg references one. Overall, its messiness makes for the winning recipe. At times, Lil Baby can breeze by so effortlessly that a bit of friction is actually appreciated.

Whether it’s because of the criteria for charts and certifications in the streaming era, a generation of artists who love living in the studio, or some alternate reason, we keep being left to ponder the difference between an album and a collection of songs. What would allow a 20-song project to hold itself together enough to be esteemed as an impressive album? How could being fed so much material still leave us feeling like we didn’t eat a full meal? Maybe the issue is that artists, as well as everyone else, grow incrementally. We take steps towards self-improvement, but rarely giant leaps. To claim that one’s creative growth within a less-than-two-year span can be on full display on twenty whole tracks is wildly ambitious. Lil Baby is great and keeps getting better, but not every song on My Turn shows growth. A more concise body of work would have been more aligned with his modest message that there is always more to prove.

Royce Da 5’9” has never been a stranger to self-expression. He famously scoured the darkest depths of his soul like Detroit’s Edgar Allan Poe on Death Is Certain. He penned his own autobiography sans filter on Book Of Ryan — an album many deem to be his masterpiece. Songs like “Tabernacle” and “Startercoat” are chapters of a living breathing story. He shares and he draws his own conclusions. It’s been that way for over two decades now, rising from the Rock City sewer smoke and wreaking havoc on “Game Radio FM.”

It shouldn’t be surprising that Royce decided to soundtrack his eighth studio album. Even if it meant taking up a trade and effectively starting on a blank slate. Royce is undisputedly one of the game’s lyrical elites; a one-percenter. In the production sphere he’s simply a dreamer looking to make an honest living. It serves to imbue his work with a charming sort of DIY ruggedness. Many samples are flipped and some arrangements are more intricate than others. Royce sets himself up to deliver a rapper’s album, unpretentious and economical. His efforts shine brightest on the hypnotic “Thou Shall” and the heavily Primo-inspired “I Play Forever.” For better or worse it never feels like he’s overthinking. Even when questionable choices are made there’s comfort in knowing that the one making them is doing so on his own accord.

Agency is a major theme across The Allegory. The willingness to control one’s own destiny and retain artistic freedom. As he explains on “Rhinestone Doo Rag,” he wore one so younger artists “won’t have to.” There’s an aura of triumph achieved through sacrifice, a process of trial and error that molded an eager student into a wizened teacher. Royce doesn’t deal in didacticism; his lessons are often left open to interpretation. Taking to a dissonant and feverish guitar loop on “Pendulum,” Royce fires off so many gems it’s impossible to unearth them all without repeat listens. Refreshingly embracing the comedic subgenre of “dad-rap,” Royce’s playful sense of humor never undercuts the impact of his insight. “Now, I’m falling in a downward spiral, my main ho is Bow Wow‘s side ho with “model” in the bio,” he laments. “I’m starting to sound dated, ‘Cause I ain’t paid attention to the climate since the Nae-Nae.”

As a craftsman, Royce’s confidence is at an all-time high. He’s proven time and again that his prowess is second to none. But The Allegory is not about putting on a masterclass in flow through select moments might suggest otherwise. “I Play Forever” is one of them, in which Royce connects with fellow veteran Grafh for a pair of murderous verses. “FUBU” is another, with Royce absolutely refusing to be outdone by Conway; no easy feat as doing so requires a Herculean performance. Despite these moments of technical brilliance, The Allegory is more so about the message Royce is looking to convey — either to the listener or to himself. In the introductory “Mr. Grace,” Royce likens the album to Plato’s “Allegory Of The Cave,” hinting at the album’s conceptual narrative; in its simplest interpretation, the idea of perception vs. reality. Perhaps Royce’s Allegory is not in itself an allegory to be unpacked, but rather a direct allusion to the ideas presented in Plato’s theory.

Through that lens, there are times where Royce knows exactly what lies behind the curtain. Or in keeping with Plato’s imagery, the tangible forms standing behind the row of ignorant prisoners. When speaking on topics like the nefarious elements of the record industry, Royce’s voice carries authority; there’s a reason he’s still thriving twenty-years down the line, the proud owner of his own masters and publishing. It’s all too easy to imagine nameless suits standing behind a row of young rappers making shadow puppets on the wall. Songs like “Tricked” and “Upside Down” find Royce seeking to expose the truth as he sees it. To unchain the proverbial prisoners and force them to address their status as pawns. The water darkens when he wades into topics on which his research process holds a confirmation bias. Much has been made of anti-vaxx sentiments and perhaps not enough has been made about the circumstances that might have led to such an empirically disprovable conclusion. Though it does feel like The Allegory has been designed to convert those willing to see the light, it also speaks to the fallibility of man on a variety of levels — alas, not all of them intentional.

This sort of complexity is a quality that Royce himself has experienced first hand, chiefly explored through his relationship with his father on “Hero.” A force can be at once destructive and inspirational, wrong in the name of righteousness. While The Allegory is not Royce’s best album, there’s a certain transcendental quality that cannot be denied. It’s certainly his most dense body of work; bars fly overhead packed with hidden meaning and double entendres, don’t even ask him how. Whether his messages land will depend wholly on the listener’s willingness to respect the source. Those expecting Royce to concoct something en vogue or trendy will leave disappointed. He’s earned the right to stay within his comfort zone — but damned if he hasn’t been steadily renovating it over the years. 

Anyways isn’t one of those projects that leaves the featured artists unlisted in order to preserve an element of surprise. Young Nudy flies solo for 16 tracks – for 58 minutes. He is a self-sustaining ecosystem. If you peruse his discography, you will see that Nudy often opts to take matters into his own hands. An internal furnace supplies him with enough steam to send him bouncing off the walls until the beat stops playing. He can play this game for the duration of a full LP without tiring and we can observe without losing any interest. 

The lead single for Anyways, “No Go,” showed Nudy spinning himself into a frenzy. It’s almost a disorienting experience. The sense that he’s outpacing his listeners, or his opponents, doesn’t just stem from his sputtering delivery. His masterful use of ad-libs generates the illusion that he’s attacking from all angles. He forms a one-man choir – repeating words, offering responses, erupting with cartoonish noises. These sorts of echoes are by no means unique to Nudy. We know they’re pervasive in the Atlanta trap scene, but Nudy’s aren’t neatly placed. On “Deeper Than Rap,” his raps and his ad-libs border on discordant. They clash awkwardly, but in Nudy’s case, that’s where the magic lies. When he interrupts himself and creates these explosive layers of sound, the intoxicating mania of his music is heightened. “Deeper Than Rap” is Nudy unfastening himself from the beat and fleeing anything that tries to contain him.  

While these conversations with himself are what make it seem like he’s endlessly feeding off his own energy, the moments when he derives inspiration from external sources shouldn’t be overlooked. Nudy’s exhilarating when unhinged, but his eccentric beat selection tends to pull him into new territory. 20Rocket – who has production credits on six of Anyways’ tracks – furnishes Nudy with the tinny tip-toeing of “No Comprende.” It impels Nudy to tackle it with a more restrained and choppy flow, which offers a welcome reprieve from the breathless vortexes that consume much of the project. He also remains tethered to the instrumental on “I Won’t Flex,” where he wheezes his bars to mimic the flashes of a synth. 

When he isn’t tailoring his delivery to the beat, his vocals can reflect his intended message. “A Nudy Story” is when the rapper sheds all the boasts and the threats to finally provide some background on what hardened him. Amidst divulging of family drama and other trauma, he croons on the hook in a cadence that evokes both resignation and hope. “Burnin’ demon in a Demon, I ain’t say that I was perfect / God done blessed me with this money, I guess He feel like I was worth it.” “A Nudy Story” is the only digression from his usual themes. Even on the closing track “Do It With The…”, whose wistful atmosphere sounds conducive to an introspective journey, Nudy resorts to discussing money and murder. 

Considering how long Nudy has been a respected figure in Atlanta’s underground, every new release from him begs the question of whether he is on the verge of a breakout. Slim’erre, the collaborative project he put out with Pi’erre Bourne last year definitely brought more attention his way, boosted by high-profile guests and Pi’erre’s affiliation with Playboi Carti. However, there’s no need for us to speculate about potential hits on Anyways when that doesn’t even seem to be Nudy’s main concern. He’s still entrenched in the streets. If there’s any overarching takeaway from Anyways, it’s that Nudy’s bullshit detector is infallible. As he bellows on “No Comprende,” “I could smell it from a mile away, you work with them cops.” If Young Nudy continues to keep it real and keep the right people around him, he’ll be just fine. 

Never underestimate the power of the odd couple. Whether used in the name of sitcom hijinks, to bridge the gap between genres, or to patch over emerging generational rifts, no shortage of magic can manifest when previously unaligned powers find themselves on a collision course. Sharing little more than a penchant for turning modern-day hip-hop on its axis, the magnetic chemistry that radiated from Denzel Curry and Kenny Beats during the former’s visit to The Cave has been harnessed and extrapolated in phenomenal ways on UNLOCKED. Much like he has with an assortment of artists including Key! Rico Nasty and Vince Staples, Kenny has tapped into Denzel’s distinct brand of South Florida hip-hop and merged their sounds accordingly. Arriving through a deceptive fog of fake beef and strategic posts, the finished product is a team-up of seismic proportions that recalls a new-age Preemo & Royce, Gibbs & Madlib or, with its appropriation of samples from all obscure corners of instrumentation and infomercials, Madvillainy itself.

Launched in conjunction with a short film that displayed the pair’s untapped comedic range, the duo satirized the issue of leaks and the all-too-real plight of making “$4 from 2 million streams” before being plunged into a world of cyber-psychedelia. Vivid, disorienting and prone to lightning-quick transitions, this stop-motion, anime, and Adult Swim-indebted visual is the perfect accompaniment for a project practically hemorrhaging with creativity. Opening in disorienting fashion as a narrator rhymes off antiquated rhetoric about an unspecified mental condition and “a negative phase,” the arrival of “Take_it_Back_v2” quickly makes it known that the titular unlocking isn’t a reference to any technology, but rather the limitless ingenuity of their brains.

Setting off in the realm of menacing, retro-futuristic boom-bap, the track establishes some of the key traits that’ll recur throughout the EP’s duration. Flitting from feeling manic to meticulously constructed on a dime, Denzel dual-wields odes to Bubba Sparxx and Rosa Parks in a way that only he could, all while embracing enough vocal manipulation to become a one-man posse cut. Exemplified from the moment that he veers between a dirty-south inspired, Screwed Up Click bark to a piercing high-pitched holler, Denzel’s willingness to be guided by Kenny’s unconventional borders are proof that they’re relishing the act of bouncing off one another.

Frazer Harrison/Getty Images, FilmMagic/Getty Images

On Zel’s part, he’s rhyming in a way that feels instinctual and immediate. Just as he did during the construction of 2019’s ZUU, it seems that Curry is adhering to his new teammates’ personal mantra of “don’t overthink shit” and allowing the poeticisms to present themselves without any agony. Taking an interdisciplinary approach to his references, Denzel juggles nods to Star Wars, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and GTA V in the space of three bars on “Lay_Up.m4a” before rebuffing the point A to point B nature of traditional music industry models: “Why I gotta go on tour to show that I’m goin’ through stages?” Presenting a thrilling checkpoint between the old and new, Denzel takes the aggression that’s been running through his veins since the days of 32 Zel/Planet Shrooms and uses it to elevate the abrasive “DIET_.” Sounding like the genetically mutated missing link between DMX and Zillakami, the gradually increasing tension between verse and chorus displays both parties’ range in stark clarity.

Meanwhile, Kenny’s prolific run over the past few years carries on without compromising on quality or scope. If anything, a common thread between much of UNLOCKED’s production would be the use of woozy textures and the inevitable return to lucidness by way of thudding percussion. What sets Kenny apart as such a compelling beatmaker is his nonchalance when it comes to disrupting the listener with a funk bassline here or a squalling industrial clatter there. A boundaryless approach that was likely adapted from his time within the hyperactive world of EDM as one half of Loudpvck, Kenny’s growing stature as one of hip-hop’s most entrusted producers has only emboldened him further. With only minimal assistance from Denzel, the fascinating sonic world of “Track07” makes a strong case for Kenny heeding the example of LA beat scene pioneers such as Flying Lotus, Ras G or Samiyam and producing a standalone body of work of his own.  

Concluding with the blistering, bass-heavy assault of “Cosmic.M4A”, the narration’s final concession of “we did everything in the world to exterminate them but, ha, no apparent luck” is fitting when you consider how both Denzel and Kenny have balked at mainstream-mandated expectations or conduct wherever possible. Despite its 18-minute runtime, this project doesn’t feel disposable. Whether it’s Zeltron’s impeccable wordplay or the adventurousness of Kenny’s instrumentals, there’s plenty to be entranced by and unpack in greater detail. They aren’t reinventing the wheel and had no aspirations of doing so. Instead, UNLOCKED caps off another quietly prolific off-season for Denzel amid giving Kenny room to showcase his work ethic and near-maniacal creativity. Far more than a joyless display of virtuosity from two of the best in their fields, what makes UNLOCKED so compelling is the inescapable sense of fun that comes hardwired into it.

On Meet The Woo 2, Pop Smoke’s official debut album, he sticks to his comfort zone. But there is growth to be found — both musically and personally. The 20-year-old Brooklyn phenom delivered an equally glossy and gutter debut with Meet The Woo. Successfully merging together the sounds of UK drill (influenced by the genre’s Chicago roots) and London’s penchant for electronic music, the rapper’s menacingly deep voice delivered a sobering reality. He relentlessly turns an opp into a duppy and barely wastes a breath mentioning the color of his Balmain jeans. His recklessness and haunted realities were masked as viral bangers like “Welcome To The Party” and “Dior” that would propel him as New York City’s next up.

The Brooklyn drill scene wouldn’t exist without the efforts of Bobby Shrmuda. But even as artists like 22Gz and Sheff G spearheaded the sound in Brooklyn, it’s artists like Pop Smoke and Fivio Foreign that banked on the opportunity of the international crossing as UK drill began to gain both prominence and notoriety at the same time. Meet The Woo 2 expands even further on the sonic mission as 808Melo reclaims the driver seat on the project, directing the frenetic marriage of grime, drill, and trap in the same direction. Following the dominant intro on “Invincible,” Pop Smoke and Quavo bring out the heavy artillery on “Shake The Room.” For the most part, the song’s vibe can be summed up by Pop Smoke’s go-to bar: “Henny, no chaser.” There’s enough ferocity on his part that it’s hard not to imagine one beating their chest after slugging down hip-hop’s favorite brown. With Melo on the beat, Pop Smoke manages to bring out an ounce of inspiration out of Quavo who has seemingly mailed in every single collaboration he’s done since Culture. It’s an important collaboration, too, since Quavo is the only A-List name attached to the project. Pop Smoke makes the most with his hometown contemporaries but the addition of Quavo marks one of the few major co-signs on wax, aside from a Travis Scott collab in December.

It’s easy to forget Pop Smoke is only 20-years-old due to his guttural vocals but there are moments throughout the project that remind everyone that he’s still new to this professional world. Weeks after his arrest over a stolen Rolls-Royce, it’s Steven Victor– Pusha T’s manager and head of the newly launched Victor Victor label Pop Smoke is signed to– that has been teaching the Brooklyn rapper how to maneuver through board rooms and courtrooms. On “Get Back,” Pop Smoke lets off clips for ad-libs as he details a crime-filled lifestyle. “N***as tryna lock me up and give me a bid, huh?/ I’m like n***a, f*ck the pigs/ The judge like, ‘Why you actin’ like a dick?’/ I said, ‘I’m movin’ like I’m Steven Vic.’” 

Scott Dudelson/Getty Images

Meet The Woo 2 doesn’t necessarily combat the criticism that Pop Smoke lacks versatility. He plays into his strengths more than anything else. The distinct raspiness in his voice is where the money is. Even though it’s suited for the intensity of the UK drill-infused production, there are still moments where he proves it can expand past that. Songs like “Christopher Walking” build on some of the melodic-driven delivery from “Brother Man,” committing further to the sing-rap variation; though occasional Quavo/Travis Scott-like adlibs make the gruffness more palatable, it’s more for texture’s sake. Even if Pop Smoke sounds wildly out of place when he details romance, songs like “She Got A Thing” perfectly suit the female demographic without sounding like a stretch. With Axl’s smooth but gritty production complimenting the raspiness, Pop Smoke teeters into the harmonies to detail love under dim strip club lights: “Climb on top, do a split/ She wanna do it on my dick/ Sit on my Amiris, I told her look out for the stick… Woo, she gon’ do it for these bands/ She make it clap like how I do both of my hands.”

Perhaps the idea of mainstream appeal isn’t Pop Smoke’s aim quite yet but his unique sound is one that won’t be replicated authentically. His sound stems from a regional creative uprising in Chicago before producers in the UK innovated it. Even with aspirations for global acclaim, at the end of the day, Pop Smoke’s Meet The Woo 2 brings it all back to the mecca of hip-hop.

On the opening track of Music To Be Murdered By, Eminem addresses one of hip-hop’s conundrums. That of longevity. It’s album number eleven and many words have been written. Words written by Eminem himself, scrawled on a notebook page in meticulous fashion. Words penned by music journalists left unpacking his messages and analyzing his place within the greater cultural context. Words packed with vitriol over his latest darkly comedic reference to whatever tragedy happens to fit the rhyme scheme. Enough words to fill several tomes in fact. In that sense: Slim Shady will always be one of the music industry’s most evocative stars. Even though many have openly turned their back, voicing their displeasure with words, words, words.  

It’s appropriate. Given Eminem’s own mastery of the English language and all, a quality he has expressed great pride in. On his latest, Em might very well be operating at his linguistic best. The flows he concocts on songs like “Godzilla,” “I Will,” or “Unaccomodating” are some of the most impressive from the standpoint of pure craftsmanship. Not to mention his ability to pull double, nay triple entendres out of thin air; don’t even ask him how. From a–double-edged sword though his phrase has become– technical standpoint, Eminem has transcended from man to supercomputer. As preceding album Kamikaze made clear, Eminem has allowed his own “Rap God” dominance to be among his primary sources for thematic inspiration. 

Upon first listening to Music To Be Murdered By, shades of two of Eminem’s more recent albums were immediately evoked. Where Relapse played out like a love letter to the horror genre this one seeks inspiration in suspense. Alfred Hitchock opens an eerie instrumental from the reunited Dr. Dre and Dawaun Parker but this time the stage directions read different. In lieu of conjuring nightmarish accent-laden snuff fantasies, Eminem begins in a reflective state. The venomous “Premonition” is a slow burn lamentation stemming from the disconnect between his fans and his critics, who for all intents and purposes have become antagonistic forces. “But Rolling Stone stars, I get two and a half outta five and I’ll laugh out loud,” he raps, drawing a parallel with LL Cool J. “Cause that’s what they gave BAD back in the day / which actually made me not feel as bad now, ’cause If it happened to James it could happen to Shady.” 

While many praised Eminem’s willingness to work with outside producers like Tay Keith & Ronny J, there’s irreplicable magic when he unites with Dr. Dre. Seemingly the only producer capable of capturing the perfect dark banger, Dre emerged from his overseer’s role to provide four instrumentals to Slim’s cause. Sonically is where the Relapse comparisons end. In a surprising turn Music To Be Murdered By shares many similarities with Revival. Albeit, a Revival blessed by better execution and a renewed sense of confidence. The journey plays out in similar fashion: a healthy mix of bar-heavy tracks, social commentary, and moments of romantic introspection. Only this time he’s rapping like he did on Kamikaze, albeit grounded by Revival’s focused concepts. The combination makes for a slew of compelling moments, many of which arrive during the project’s second half. 

Where the first half feels somewhat inconsistent– barring a seamless transition from “Premonition” to the Young M.A. assisted “Unaccomodating–the second half is home to some of Em’s best music in years. What begins as another love song on “Never Love Again” slowly unfolds into a layered and nuanced take on addiction, rendered brilliantly by Em’s metaphorical linguistics and Dre’s eerie descent into synthesizer-induced madness. “Little Engine” picks up where Revival’s “Offended” left off, with Eminem giving into his zaniest urges over infectiously arranged percussion. Arguable highlight “Lock It Up” finds two Aftermath alumni taking to another blessing from the Doc as Anderson .Paak and Slim Shady float over the ghostly haze. “Now my Shady babies are all stillborns, meaning abortions that live cause they were still born,” spits Em, his macabre imagery on point. “I can heal ’em with Neosporin.”  

Though perhaps inadvertently sowing discord within the Slaughterhouse camp, the ends justified the means on the penultimate “I Will.” Facing a Buddenless void Em fits the fourth spot admirably, delivering the most razor-sharp and self-assured verse on the album. Over a beat laced by both himself and old pal Luis Resto, Slim unleashes scheme after scheme while lining the purist-friendly track with cleverly rendered references to hip-hop legends. A similar spirit exists on “Yah Yah,” itself bolstered by the presence of Black Thought, Royce Da 5’9” (who also lands a few production credits), and Q-Tip. Sadly the peaks are counterweighted by a handful of valleys not entirely glaring in execution but jarring given the Hitchcockian motif. For that reason the impact of Music To Be Murdered By can feel slightly diluted, especially when he’s retreading familiar ground; it’s unlikely that any murders will occur whilst the dulcet tones of Skylar Gray soar anthemesque. Nor over the hazy strip-club bender “Those Kinda Nights,” a playful reflection of “the D12 days” that raises an important question: might this song have been more effective had Biz, Kuniva, Swifty, and Denaun came through for old times sake?

For better or worse the dad-joke bars remain a recurring staple. Though the man is a dad and reserves the right to joke accordingly many have grown weary of puns as a general rule. Chalk it up to personal taste; those who have been with Eminem through “Big Weenie” might be more forgiving in that department than those who discovered him through a Don Toliver collaboration. Select few though they may be. For longtime fans, Music To Be Murdered By is triumphant at times, a validation of artistic vision where one wasn’t needed to begin with. For casual listeners or active dislikers it might harbor the same criticisms that have been voiced about previous releases: pacing, tone, eyebrow-raising lyricism. Where one might wince at Em’s insane verbal dexterity on the crowd-pleasing Juice WRLD banger “Godzilla,” another may be rendered awestruck. That crucial distinction between “he’s a legend” and “he’s a legend but” will remain.