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A little over a year ago, Kid Cudi released one of the worst albums of all-time. Speeding Bullet 2 Heaven was mocked mercilessly from both critics and fans alike. And unlike 2016's debacle, Corey Feldman's Angelic 2 The Core, Cudi once had a promising music career worth investing in. In fact, Man On The Moon I still sits comfortably in my top 100 albums of all-time, lending credence towards Cudi's former glory. His latest piece was an all too visual spiral of 'The Chosen One's' self-obsession, failing to look beyond his own incapabilities, ushering in a genre shift so out of his element it took a desperate plea from Beavis And Butthead to reel him back in. In many a sense, Speeding Bullet very clearly signaled rock bottom. Cudi physically couldn't go any lower without seriously diving into self-parody and mockery, so it was safe to assume his next affair, excluding the equally laughable title Passion, Pain, and Demon Slayin,' would at least be better. The question remaining; how much better? Foolish to set your sights on the MOTM series, Passion feels more aptly comparable to Satellite Flight, molding Cudi's singing and rapping careers the only way he knows best; awkwardly.
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Thematically speaking, Passion attempts a reform by returning to the MOTM age where Cudi's albums were divided into passages. The titles, like 'Niveaux de I'Amour' and 'It's Bright And Heaven Is Warm,' reek of Cudi's bumptious mannerisms, diving deep into a perceived ocean of thought that's really a shallow pool. That phrase represents a bulk of Passion's lyrical content quite well, as the emotional euphemisms riddling the album amount to virtually nothing. Tracks like 'Swim In The Light,' 'All In,' or 'Cosmic Warrior' aren't exclusive to Passion, as this content has found its way into every Cudi album beforehand, however, its sheer magnitude smolders Passion into rocky rubble. How you manage to write 19 tracks echoing similar thoughts, desires, and sentiments within a year, choosing to release them all concurrently, is beyond me. If fighting inner-demons with the poetic maturity of an english student currently averaging a C is your thing, then by all means, appreciate Cudi's obsession with the hurt and hope. If it weren't for 'Surfin's' drastic sonic shift, the evolution of Passion would be null, despite Cudi clearly undergoing a transformative crisis. The album would've improved in spades had there been distinct advancements in Cudi's interior, and the music's exterior. Instead we're left with a largely singular sound for 86-minutes.
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Based on the tracks listed above, Passion isn't a lost cause. In many respects, it's actually reinvigorating if you're looking in the right places. The LP's biggest problem arises in Cudi's lackluster quality control, something that's haunted him since Indicud. It's not the 19 tracks itself that's the problem, but the fact that such a speedy turnaround after such a jarring sonic shift has caused some straggling pieces that really shouldn't be here. No artist that I've become accustomed to has been able to make 20 good songs in one year, and Cudi is no different. I say it time and time again with albums, but had Passion been selectively trimmed of its hefty excess, this review would read differently. Ten songs, a dozen at most, and we're witnessing a return that truly warrants the attention. Instead, we're gifted with a bloated exercise in self-discipline, having to endure poor lyrical dialogues, spotty internal complexions, and superfluous production that, while good at times, is unnecessarily narrowed in on one cosmic aesthetic. Qualms aside, Passion, Pain, And Demon Slayin' finds the Cudi we know, love, and sometimes hate, returning to our collective consciousness.
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