Review Summary: Life in between the racing stripes
Shante Franklin, aka Curren$y, aka Spitta Andretti, is often credited for his couch-surfing, reflective tales of weed-fuelled absentmindedness. Beneath it all lies a relatable sort of charisma, and even when he’s being condescending with his exultation on “Vibrations”, he sounds like he’s doing you a world of favours. Alongside The Alchemist, Spitta presents a sort of sequel to 2011’s
Covert Coup. Their newest collaboration sounds like two seasoned vets with a handle on their priorities, but still enchanted - above all, professional, but still indulgent when it matters, shaking off the day's trauma with a couple whiffs. Despite that, the rapper is never really desensitized; on “Disappearing Ink” (featuring prior collaborator Styles P), he criticizes the illusory behaviour of other rappers "
looking like clowns all say they tryna be different / reflection so deceptive, there’s too much smoke and mirrors,” and the irony is palpable.
The Carrollton Heist has the scarring and introspection of a smouldering warzone, but still feels endlessly at ease.
The Alchemist’s output has been notoriously hit-or-miss as of late, but his work on
Carrollton is nuanced, fluid, and atmospheric. “Black Rally Stripes” is an album highlight, with a feather-soft pulse underlain with chimes and infectious bass. Tracks like “Disappearing Ink” capture a unique neo-noir imagery (think L’Orange and Jeremiah Jae’s
The Night Took Us In Like Family, but more droed out). “500 Pounds of Gas” has a similar flavour, with sinister boom bap and a nostalgic synth line. “93 AMG” is more cloudy, and Spitta lazily mocks, “
you ain’t never seen a heist in your life / recognize what you gettin,” before receding without spilling the details. Much like
Covert Coup, most tracks on
Carrollton run brief, and many fade out before implanting an MO. Curren$y’s hookless composition is refreshing, and the shorter runtimes lend to some replay value, but the atmosphere calls for more pacing to really settle into Spitta’s orbit. Lil Wayne’s bars on “Fat Albert” are an unexpected highlight, with a reminiscent flow and memorable lines aplenty. Closer “Smoking in the Rain” is the ideal windup, with its ruminating laden with brooding saxes. Much of
The Carrollton Heist plays like a series of notes on a paper pad, written as a sort of companion piece to something more grand in narrative, lending a detailed insight despite being a bit meandering. Kinda like
Reservoir Dogs, the aftermath can be more revealing than the main event.
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