Laid-back-complex rap in the Das Racist spirit, with eclectic production that goes from Dilla nostalgia to rockism circa The Coup. Sweatshirt's rhyming is disarmingly imprecise, with personality and voice showing through while he stumbles backwards into rhymes of bracing intricacy.
The second half is the problem, making even the modest 45 minutes sound understuffed, the album-curtain dropping to reveal a mixtape. Guild is completely incomprehensible, underproduced into unintelligibility, and the production gets hazier and lazier from there, driving home the idea that Sweatshirt had about half an album's worth of decent songs and then dumped on some filler. That's par for the hip hop course, but I'm spoiled by records that keep my interest all the way through 3.5/5
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