Review Summary: An impressive progression for the Harlem rapper.
The year was 2011. Thanks to social media and an abundance of free content, a new generation of hip-hop collectives emerged on the music scene. The Black Hippy and Odd Future crews began to take off on the west coast but in Harlem, N.Y., another group was making waves in the industry – the A$AP Mob. Much has changed for the 11-member clan in the past four years: its Houston-influenced leader, A$AP Rocky, reached stardom in 2013 when his debut album, “Long.Live.A$AP,” hit number one on the Billboard 200, while his sidekick A$AP Ferg cracked the top ten of the charts with his record later that year.
Tragedy struck in January, 2015, when A$AP Yams, the founder of the crew and originator of its aesthetic, passed away from an accidental drug overdose at age 26. Rocky dealt with the loss of his best friend by burrowing in a London studio with hallucinogens and a heavy heart, and the result is his most comprehensive project yet, “At.Long.Last.A$AP” (A.L.L.A.).
He recruited a varied cast to help him out, from rap heavyweights Kanye West and Lil Wayne (who delivers his best verse in years on “M’$”), to Mos Def and Rod Stewart, but what makes this album such an enjoyable listen is the presence of Rocky himself. His greatest asset as a rapper has always been his ability to effortlessly flow over wavy soundscapes but on A.L.L.A., his increased dedication to lyricism is evident from the album’s inception.
“They ask me why I don't go to church no more/Cause church is the new club and wine is the new bub,” he explains over a twangy guitar sample on album’s opener “Holy Ghost,” a scything testament against religious hypocrisy. On “L$D” – the best song that Kid Cudi never recorded – Rocky croons about his admiration of lysergic acid diethylamide over a hazy, ethereal beat. Tracks like album highlight “Pharsyde” are melancholy reminders that Rocky has seen a lot in his 26 years of life.
“Gentrification split the nation that I once was raised in/I don't recall no friendly neighbor’s face on my upraising,” he confesses over Danger Mouse’s bass-rattling production. On the drowsy interlude “Dreams,” Rocky claims to have an answer for the problems he sees in the world – “I just had an epic dream like Dr. King/Police brutality was on my TV screen/Harmony, love, drugs and peace is all we need.”
A.L.L.A. is an immaculately produced record (with co-executive assistance from A$AP Yams, Juicy J, and Danger Mouse) and it shows on the epic “Max B,” where Rocky raps over percussion that sounds like it should be blasted atop the Great Pyramid of Giza. The track is coupled with a somber chorus from the record’s secret weapon: Joe Fox, a street performer who approached Rocky in London with a guitar and a demo CD. While Rocky occasionally gets entrapped in the rap clichés of boasting about wealth and fame, A.L.L.A.’s murky aura adds an element of despair to the sound, as if to question the ultimate worth of his vanity. “I guess the new me is gon’ take some getting used to,” he ponders on the charismatic “Excuse Me”. If he continues to create albums of this quality, his assessment might be a tad modest.
