Allen’s vapid, inherently disposable fare seems designed for recent Radio Disney graduates with weak stomachs and low alcohol tolerances. Sounding like Slim Shady without the misanthropy or Aubrey Graham sans media training, this suburban slicker finesses the pop plug like it’s nothing on Happy Camper. With Macklemore teaching privilege seminars down at The Learning Annex while Iggy Azalea flails like Sandra Bullock in outer space, now’s a perfect time for Hoodie Allen to slide into our DMs and remind just how cringeworthy a white rapper can truly be. Despite its glossy R&B chorus, "Roller Coaster Ride" makes for a chilling State Of The Union, with a notable reference to the departed Mike Brown. But admirably he’s also looking outward at a time of deep introspection. A family man and a hardened hustler, Boosie soldiers through his multifaceted struggles and all its attendant indignities. Coping with serious health and personal issues in the wake of his 2014 release from prison, he grapples with his pain, his pride, and the grimly imminent possibility of death head-on ('Cancer,' 'I Know They Gone Miss Me'). In My Feelings is blues in the realest sense, a literal gut-wrenching account of his woes. Boosie has cancer, to be blunt about it, and to his credit he’s one of those rare living artists truly capable of making us all feel some small share of his suffering. True to its title, the Louisiana native’s latest unloads on his listeners, delivering an emotional data dump of disbelief and rage. It’s an enviable position, but try as he might, Future can’t will himself into becoming Prince.īoosie BadAzz - In My Feelings. When you’re Prince, everybody and everything around you is conveniently replaceable. When you’re Prince, you’re increasingly adored for your old music even when your new music ceases to matter. When you’re Prince, every Revolution can be rejiggered into a New Power Generation. Even apart from the mild cuteness of the pun and the cover art, Future clearly begs for comparisons to Prince, that most singular of soloists. There’s nothing subtle about naming a tape Purple Reign. Future remains the star of his dope show, and it shows. On ‘No Charge’, he brags through his Auto-Tune plug-in about his motley crew of an entourage, plying them with prescription pills perhaps to keep their ambitions in check. In fact, nobody in Future’s circle gets the mic on Purple Reign, not even his Freeband Gang, all of whom could surely use that sort of help. One questions whether the prolific nature of his output is as wise as his preferred choice of potent potables have led him to believe.ĭespite his preferential placement on DS2 as well as their equal time bonanza What A Time To Be Alive, Drake’s presence here is limited solely to a couple of promotional drops. Setting aside firecrackers like Southside’s ‘Perkys Calling’, the tape packs a considerable number of fizzling fuses. At risk of becoming perilously predictable, Purple Reign bangs on many of the themes he’s already covered incessantly on prior releases. After a few listens, the lineage between ‘Inside The Mattress’ and the 56 Nights highlight ‘March Madness’ seems obvious, but truth be told the Actavis activist repeats himself quite a bit here. As with any good high, there’s the subsequent comedown. By the time Metro’s backwards-masked swirl of title track materializes, the desire to play the whole thing again beckons.Ĭritically, that’s about when the ecstatic effects wear off.
#Best hip hop albums of all time 2016 update#
Biggs character, presenting a semi-Faustian update of the singer’s R. For ‘Drippin’, Future transforms into a lean-sipping version of Ron Isley’s Mr. The five tracks he’s credited with here fire up the synapses, some more effectively than others (‘Hater Shit’, ‘Wicked’).
Last year, producer Metro Boomin effectively took DJ Mustard’s place at the top, and there’s still a substantial serotonin rush to be gained from his bassbin austerity program. And to that end, he continues to serve the community with his first freebie of 2016, entitled Purple Reign.Īs someone who listens to dozens and dozens of rap records every month, the initial excitement of plunging into a fresh new Future tape is both palpable and rare. From late 2014’s eye-opener Monster onward, he’s endeared himself to an expanding fanbase while becoming an ubiquitous presence in hip hop. Having ascended to psychotropic rap royalty over the heads of countless staunch stoners, Future owes a great deal to the mixtape circuit for aiding his spectacular albeit circuitous journey to hip hop’s upper echelon.
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