What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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As someone whose been following MIKE's career since 2017's fantastic May God Bless Your Hustle, the current state of tautology he's found himself in is nothing short of disappointing. While MIKE may have originated the sound, promoted handedly by Standing On The Corner's jazzier parallels, Earl Sweatshirt's prominent Some Rap Songs essentially cornered MIKE into this syrupy, stuck-in-the-mud style of Lo-Fi Hip-Hop if he's to maintain relevance. And so he has. Weight Of The World, like last year's Tears Of Joy, finds MIKE circling around the drain of indecisiveness, reflecting on past transgressions through a bleary, heavily-damaged viewfinder. The songs are nothing more than snippets, like diary entries for unexceptional days or sketchbook drawings soon abandoned. At this point, with his cadence, tone, and lyrics calibrated to precision, MIKE's ensemble of production units is what keeps his potential afloat. Tracks like 'coat of many colors' and 'what's home 1/2' bear the weight with faded textures and lost generations of Soul samples while MIKE dawdles with his muzzled annunciation and disinterested charisma.
As far as comparisons to his past work goes, Weight Of The World falls somewhere in between the 2018 tandem of Black Soap and Renaissance Man. Dreary, confused, content clutching to a niche aesthetic. This is no War In My Pen, that's for sure. 'Weight Of The Word*' and 'Allstar' are the only above-average cuts on here.
D+
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In many ways, Tangram seems detached from reality. It is decisively un-2020, with Hip-Hop that's equal parts fleeting and indolent, overwhelmed by patient passages of drawn-out Sound Collage that stand in stark contrast to the hyper-active, Glitch-infused shelling of today's scattershot compositions. It's unconcerned with the Internet age's information overload, or meme culture that denounces solemnity. It's inaccessible, not because it's unpleasing to the ears, but because time is a costly commodity for many, with patience being a virtue. This does, however, present some criticism in terms of pay-off. Material Girl's aesthetic roots itself in repose, ultimately lumbering along with no formal evolvement to speak of ('No Runner'). Even the times in which progression occurs, namely 'Funeral Parade Of Roses,' there's no instantaneous reward. Tangram is a slow grind and should be treated as such. It's what makes the album's best moment - the opening minute of 'Swoon,' with its discordant and rhapsodic string arrangement - a prophetic relegation of sorts. The extended Outkast sample ('Pink & Blue'), layering more romantic strings into the facade, only solidifies my opinion of 'Swoon' being the best.
As is known, there are samples galore on Tangram. The variety and mixture is pleasant. J Dilla emerges on 'Flood,' while Carl Stone's humid wind chimes on 'Banteay Srey '91' can be heard midway through 'Funeral Parade Of Roses.' Then there's the direct influences, like Burial's drums on 'No Runner' or Boards Of Canada's idiosyncratic vocal cutting on 'Platypus.' Even closer 'On My Way Out,' which doesn't feature a guest rapper so it's presumably Material Girl's own words, bears resemblance to Lil Ugly Mane's downtrodden abjection. Overall, while the influences of Tangram are a bit too overt, Material Girl's self-exile from modern norms helps the curiosity build and burrow.
B-
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