MUSIC is the synthesis of all of Carti’s impulses both good and bad: the inspired hip-hop head and transactional businessman; the disruptive rapper of his generation and the morally bankrupt social climber; a little grandiose self-mythologizing Kanye here, a little futuristic swag-era Atlanta nostalgia there; a sip of apolitical Travis Scott blockbusters, and a shot of Future-style degeneracy. There’s also a lot of mixtape Wayne in his soul, down to the “I Am Music” slogan he ripped from the Hot Boy. On one listen, you might get the impression it’s a jampacked strip club CD hosted by Swamp Izzo, the loudmouthed DJ known for talking his talk on Atlanta street rap mixtapes of the 2010s and for his longtime residency at the adult lounge Blue Flame. On the next, it’s bloated streambait, fattened with big-time guests in service of selling concert tickets and merch.

For music that is almost exclusively about hanging out, getting laid, and poppin’ molly, there genuinely is so much going on. It’s 77 minutes of nonstop trap beat variants, EDM flourishes, half-finished and overthought songs, and Carti pulling off such a range of voice work he’s like the rap game Dana Carvey. Take “Crush,” the album’s second track, which expands on the EDC festival build-ups he got into while on tour for WLR. The synths ride without a drop for more than 30 seconds as Carti toasts to the possibility of getting to have sex—it’s both restrained and kind of silly. That moment is undercut as soon as the rattling drums kick in, and out come the played-out trifecta of Mike Dean-inspired guitars, Travis Scott catchphrases, and Kanye-brained church choir bullshit. “Evil J0rdan” has a similar problem. The wonky Cardo-produced track, a highlight of the singles Carti released at the top of 2024, is a blur of punchlines in a voice more worn down than a home-plate umpire who just called a doubleheader. But the album version is overwrought, with a long, atmospheric intro that seems like it was conceived by a PC Music poser.

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