Review Summary: After a long wait, Vic fails to impress. Again.
I’ve never really paid attention to Vic Mensa, but upon hearing he had a new song with Saul Williams I was immediately intrigued. Vic, someone I had thought as a sell-out for breakout single, “U Mad”, collaborating with poet and hip-hop innovator Saul Williams? Surely not. Called “Wings”, the track blew me away with Vic’s powerful narrative about his drug addictions, complete with a soaring Pharrell Williams beat that matched the dynamics of the vocal delivery perfectly. For once, I was excited about a Vic Mensa release.
On first hearing the album in full, opening track “Say I Didn’t” continued my newfound liking of Vic. A groovy, laid-back, and infectious track, celebrating Vic’s journey to rap stardom while also paying his dues to those at home. However, my joy soon ceased, as save for a few tracks, the rest of the album turned out to be a turbulent mess, drifting between mediocre and downright terrible. “Rollin’ Like a Stoner”, a track delving into Vic’s chemical affections, serves as the albums first proper nosedive. Here Vic portrays his hedonistic lifestyle to create a self-destructive rockstar image, akin to the likes of Danny Brown. However, unlike Danny whose grotesque and wacky tales instil this aesthetic perfectly, Vic instead pours out some autotuned drivel of random binges, with the finished product sounding like it could fit comfortably on a Wiz Khalifa tape. Forgettable track “Gorgeous” sees Vic blandly singing about some girl he desires over a clumsy synthline, further worsened by a boring chorus. The project full on crashes once ballad, “Coffee and Cigarettes”, reaches the listeners ear. Here, Vic decides it appropriate to woefully croon over a lame and messy instrumental, reaching a new level of cringe with his lyrics, especially on the hook.
Luckily for Vic, his storytelling ability redeems himself somewhat, ensuring the album lives up to its name. Whether it be tales from his childhood (“Memories on 47th Street), or to do with his drug addictions (“Wings”), Vic frequently details events in his life with sincere honesty and vividness, requiring no effort from the listener to imagine themselves there. Perhaps the best of these autobiographical moments comes on “Heaven on Earth”, a heartfelt tribute to his deceased friend, “Killa Cam”. Rapping over a snaking bassline and haunting keys, Vic tells the story of how, and why Cam died, through the perspective of Vic himself, Cam in heaven, and the alleged shooter. What makes this track even more powerful, is Vic's incorporation of Cam’s story into how such deaths are a product of the harsh environment that is Southside Chicago. On “Homewrecker”, Vic explicitly details a violent breakup resulting from his infidelity, with his trademark loose flow nicely complimenting the soft, wailing, guitar driven instrumental provided by 90’s rock legends, Weezer. However, I couldn’t help but think that Vic sounded like an asshole on this track, calling her crazy, and homewrecker, despite his unfaithfulness being the driving factor of what ensued.
Closing tracks “The Fire Next Time” and “We Could Be Free” did nothing to abolish my feeling of disappointment, both sounding like components recycled from elsewhere on the record. However, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this album turned out the way it did, considering Vic hasn’t released anything substantial since his fun, bouncy, and organic sounding debut mixtape, Innanetape. Still, fans will likely enjoy Vic’s transition from his youthful beginnings to grim storyteller, but, if he wants to expand his fanbase, he’ll have to work more on the actual music to ensure it matches his capability as a lyricist. And please Vic, no more ballads.
