Review Summary: Basic, basic, basic, basic.
Denizens of
Rodeo and the hype surrounding the ‘
My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy of trap’ will likely remember “Oh My Dis Side” as Travis Scott’s crowning, collaborative achievement; a track driven by a subtle, prolonged beat switch and a rap dynamic with Quavo, each exchanging ad-libs and quotables with ease similar to the whole of Migos. As each played the other’s hype man, emphasing their own best qualities and cutting dead lines for efficiency and listenability, an outline was paved for Quavo to seek a solo career, and for Travis Scott to write his so-called ‘trapsterpieces.’ And so the promise has fizzled, where a handful of connections has led the two to
Huncho Jack, Jack Huncho, a competent collobarative tape that nevertheless proves that Quavo should stick to Migos and Travis to curating his own albums.
If the above missive hasn’t convinced you or clued you in, I’ll spell it out succinctly: nothing on this album is as good as “Oh My Dis Side.” In fact, few of these verses rise above memorable, and are often awash in ‘Straight Up’s,’ ‘Huncho’s,’ and an array of ‘Yah’s’ and ‘Woah’s’ you’ll have already heard on “Kelly Price,” “Pick Up the Phone,” “Strip it Down,” “Know No Better,” and just about any song either appear on. With minor exceptions, the production is a flood of feedback and washed-out vocals that make headphone listening a minor chore to perform. And the billed guests, who are literally just everyone else in Migos, don’t really add much, which is as much an indictment of Offset, whose 2017 has far surpassed Quavo’s in quantity and quality. But (and this is a pretty considerable aside), none of that is reason not to listen to
Huncho Jack, Jack Huncho, which is probably one of the more listenable toss-off’s this side of
Watch the Throne. Compare it to
Super Slimey, which exhibited Future and Young Thug cruising on auto-pilot whilst Offset schooled them on the virtues of his Patek, and Travis and Quavo at least sound like they’re having fun, each ‘It’s Lit’ earned because, honestly, it’s lit. And honestly, though nothing really rises above the generic joy of “Motorcycle Patches,” songs like “Dubai Sh
i” at least go some ways towards exhibiting a modicum of effort put into this. It’s not much, but it gives
Huncho Jack, Jack Huncho that smidgen of replayablity that 2017’s literal landfill of Datpiff-quality collaborative mixtapes do not.
Look, on a very basic level, Huncho Jack isn’t bad, and any criticisms of it are essentially nitpicks. For one, I doubt Quavo gives a f
uck, and I sincerely doubt Scott is going to be discussing the narrative arc behind the collaboration for longer than a minute. That’s pretty much the basis of these collaborations. They’re fun for the moment and disposable after the fact. Any criticisms of the compositions or the ambitions of the tape thereonin are pointless, because honestly, nobody cares. Huncho Jack sounds good in the clubs, Huncho Jack sounds good in your ears; however unfortunate, it’s of no particular consequence or explanation that there’s nothing comparable to “3500” (or “Bad and Boujee,” for that matter”) to be found.
