If you let your mind wander, there are times when it feels like you’re listening to other rappers. “Say I Won’t,” to the distracted listener, sounds like a Childish Gambino song that could have been on Camp. The southern drawl and overt talk of inequality and blackness on “Dirty Water” channels Goodie Mob, David Banner, or Big K.R.I.T. In “Welcome to America,” Lecrae outlines the troubles of the have-nots in this country, recalling Jay Z and Kanye’s “Murder to Excellence.” And the first few bars on Anomaly easily could have been Drake lyrics, in their self-discovery and “Wait, who am I?”–ness: I really can’t tell if I’m overdressed or I’m underdressed If I’m underpaid or just overstressed If I’m cynical or just over this . . . Christianity isn’t universal. Feeling odd, misunderstood, and weird very much is. That’s the true foundation of this album, and that’s why it deserves its place in the mainstream. It’s why the album prompts the most skeptical of listeners to eventually let down their guard, to stop worrying about when he’s going to start preaching at them — the biggest hurdle for any piece of art with a perceived agenda.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Sep 2014 20:26:58 +0000
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