At the bleeding edge of the 2020s’ rage rap movement is the Opium collective—the Atlanta-based cabal of brooding rappers and producers led by Playboi Carti who favor powerful distortion, belligerent energy, Satanic imagery, and gratuitous angst. If the scene’s high-water mark was Carti’s pandemic-era paradigm shift, 2020’s *Whole Lotta Red*, just behind it was Ken Carson’s third album, 2023’s *A Great Chaos*, whose maximalist squall delivered on the title’s promise while fitting into the long lineage of blustery Atlanta rap. “I’m the lord of chaos! I’m the lord of the mosh!” Carson declares to open *More Chaos*, his fourth album and *A Great Chaos*’s feverishly anticipated follow-up. If its predecessor cranked the mayhem and distortion to 11, here the 25-year-old rapper/rock star turns the knobs to 12, running vintage ATL trap through the 2025 deep fryer. Tried-and-true motifs appear by way of abstract singsong blurts and yelps: Rick and Balenci, goth women, rock star shit. Anyway, it’s not about the lyrics—it’s about catharsis.
Is there anything Jane Remover *can’t* do? The 21-year-old rapper, singer, and producer’s surprise-released third album, *Revengeseekerz*, arrives just a few months after their striking and contemplative album *Ghostholding* under their Venturing alias. If that album dove deep into the tangled guitars and complex emotions of Midwestern emo, then *Revengeseekerz* finds Jane Remover fully leaving behind the gauzy anti-rock of 2023’s *Census Designated* and blasting off into the realm of rage music. It’s impossible to hear the bitcrushed synths of “Dreamflasher” and the lurching trap beats of “Experimental Skin” without conjuring images of current rage titans like Yeat and Playboi Carti. But nothing is ever that simple in Jane Remover’s world, as their dizzying and flashy approach to production means that even the catchiest *Revengeseekerz* material is densely packed with sonic bells and whistles. Amid a plethora of sonic gestures tilted towards the neon crags of modern rap, Jane Remover still finds the space to execute a few shocking left turns across these 12 tracks. Danny Brown lends his always elastic voice to the endless-ladder electroclash of “Psychoboost,” while “Professional Vengeance” bounces like a pop-punk Super Mario across a landscape of video-game lasers and pummeling bass. *Revengeseekerz* is the strongest statement yet from a true prodigy at the height of their powers.
As much as his Griselda affiliation connects him with a Buffalo, NY state of mind, Boldy James remains a Detroit rapper through and through. Coming amid a fast-and-furious run of new releases from the prodigious spitter, *Hommage* rightfully centers him in his hometown both physically and sonically. With the help of Antt Beatz, producer behind favorites by 42 Dugg and Icewear Vezzo, he shares his astutely local vision of the city on cuts like “Concrete Connie” and “Super Mario.” Even the track titles themselves reflect the rapper’s clever brand of lyricism, as cuts like the exultant “Brick James” and “Himothy Mcveigh” contain his all-but-patented blend of narco knowledge drops and street king statements. As expected, the guest list is rightfully restricted to residents, with Baby Money giving nothing but straight talk on the booming “Off the Richter” and BandGang Lonnie Bands trading tight verses off with Boldy on the melancholic “Met Me.”
It was a big deal when #KushandOrangeJuice became the No. 1 trending topic on Twitter upon the release of the eighth Wiz Khalifa mixtape in April 2010, back when “hashtags” and “trending topics” were cutting-edge promotional tools. Back then, it was practically unheard of for a rapper with no major-label deal to be making such big waves (he’d left his former label, Warner Bros., in 2009). But there was something comforting about the red-eyed Pittsburgh rapper’s laidback mode of rapping about the staples of college dorm-room chatter: weed, women, cars, parties… Did we mention weed? Today, *Kush & Orange Juice* is considered a “blog era” classic—a throwback to a chiller, simpler time. Almost exactly 15 years later, its sequel arrives like a visit from a friend from long ago who’s grown up and gotten richer, but otherwise mostly stayed the same. The 23 terminally chill tracks of *Kush + Orange Juice 2* feature more of the Taylor Gang touchstones you know and love: jet-ski races, beach picnics, fat joints, drop-tops, crab rolls, hot-boxing Ferrari F8s. He’s joined by a loaded roster of guests who haven’t changed much in the past decade and change, either: Curren$y, Smoke DZA, Chevy Woods, Terrace Martin. “I been doing the same thing since I was 19,” Khalifa crows on “I Might Be,” which might be tragic were those things not so timelessly appealing. Throughout the tape, a radio DJ (broadcasting on a station known as W-E-E-D) offers salient advice: “Don’t stay in the house, man. Jump in the car. Ride around with the homies and the homegirls, and put on some of that Wiz Khalifa, y’all.”
Kevin Gates dropped *I’m Him* some five years after “I Don’t Get Tired,” the breakout hit that transformed him from mixtape upstart to mainstream rap rule-breaker. Beyond the controversies and improprieties that added a tabloid-ready gloss to his career, the Baton Rouge artist stood out on that second proper album for his inventive, oft-energetic takes on the trap era’s street-hustle mindset. Now, another half-decade later, freshly independent and pushing 40, he reveals both the rewards and the toll of that lifestyle on this concise sequel. In line with hip-hop’s ongoing mental health journey in rhyme, opener “Therapy Sessions” dives deep into a psyche so fraught with trauma that it would send most so-called pain rappers into hiding. “Same Way” finds him operating as a master of that particular subgenre, calculating loss amid the wins as a form of cautionary tale for the listener. Via the duality of “Big Bruddah (Don’t Be Mad),” he recounts betrayals and slights endured in the trenches while also flaunting his wealth and the intricate means through which he’s acquired it. Still, he can’t help but come off as triumphant on “Brasi the Eagle,” evoking his infamous mobster moniker to emphasize that his successes surpass his suffering. Gates’ characteristically unfiltered approach serves him well here. Whether truth-telling on the grimy motivational “Manifest” or casually pulling the baddest of baddies on the explicit “No Pressure,” that outlandish streak resurfaces enough times that it rewards his day-one listenership. Those long-term fans know that he’s remained true to form all these years, though anyone needing a reminder can reference “Block Away” and “Kiss the Ring” for clarity.
Will Smith has heard the chatter. So much of it, in fact, that the armchair punditry he apes on his *Based on a True Story* opener, “Int. Barbershop - Day,” sounds like it could be a field recording from any number of Black American gathering spaces. “Who the fuck Will Smith think he is?/And that boy damn crazy how he raising them kids,” goes a particularly cartoony quip. But that’s the beauty of Smith’s creative practice. Whether as star of television’s groundbreaking *The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air*, hunky lead of rom-coms like *Hitch*, and even action flicks like the *Bad Boys* franchise, Smith has never had a problem poking fun at himself. But keep playing…and he’ll get serious quick. Which is exactly what happens on *Based on a True Story*, Smith’s first body of work following 2022’s infamous Chris Rock/Oscars altercation and his first full-length album since 2005’s *Lost and Found*. Once he gets the jokes out of the way, Smith is out to remind us that he can still rap, and maybe more importantly, that he’s one of the greatest entertainers of all time. The album is Smith doing him to the fullest extent of his abilities, reveling in a storied legacy of acting and rapping (“You Lookin’ For Me?,” “Bulletproof,” “Tantrum”), while affirming his faith and the respect he has for his status as a role model (“Beautiful Scars,” “Make It Look Easy,” “You Can Make It”). It’s no light lift, but as he states on “Work of Art,” he’s built for it: “Ima king no denying this/Every limit, I’m defying it/Everybody wanna be a lion/Until it’s time to do lion shit,” he raps. Say what you want about Will Smith—you probably already have—but if you let him tell the story, there’s gonna be a little bit of boasting and a whole of gratitude. And that’s as close to the truth as we’re gonna get.**
The cover of Jessie Reyez’s third album features a questionnaire she answered as an eighth grader, and in a section titled favorite hobbies, she writes, “Rapping/singing/dancing.” In a sense, *PAID IN MEMORIES* makes good on those interests. She recruits hip-hop icons like Lil Wayne and Big Sean, alongside peers such as Lil Yachty, to help formulate some of these rap-leaning ideas. Despite the prevalence of these moments, though, she still offers up plenty of alt-pop songs for fans of her first two efforts: 2020’s *BEFORE LOVE CAME TO KILLS US* and 2022’s *YESSIE*. “PSILOCYBIN & DAISIES” flips the guitar riff from The Smashing Pumpkins’ “1979” and turns it into a hard-charging pop cut. Elsewhere, she displays her versatility with the downtempo neo-soul of “TORONTO SHORDIE” and the reggaetón-inspired groove of “PALO SANTO,” creating an album that pays tribute to all her passions.
New York may currently be dominated by any number of sexy drillers, but a real and abiding love for rap’s prior native iterations runs citywide. Listening to Lord Sko, a young MC eagerly updating a classic sound, one can’t help but hear how his *PIFF* could reverberate well beyond the five boroughs. With material support and on-record co-signs by the likes of Statik Selektah, he tackles topics and themes as integral to his home’s hip-hop traditions as any, from sporting Polo and smoking blunts to chatting up shorties and betting on the Knicks. Lest anyone think this is some purely nostalgic play, Sko’s lexicon goes considerably beyond what the boom-bap glory days contained. Over beats by the highly contemporary likes of Tony Seltzer, Mike Shabb, and Wino Willy, he sounds like the underground that nurtures him, shouting out local spots like The Astor Club on the woozy “Problem Child” and casually flexing over the dreamlike vibes of “Robinhood.” This explains how he can move in the same rooms as Conway the Machine and Grand Puba on “Camel Eyes” and “Girbaud Talk,” respectively.
Canadian rapper Raz Fresco has often drawn upon fashion for inspiration, evidenced by projects like *Deluxe Hilfiger Regalia* and *Gorgeous Polo Sportsmen*. A sequel to the latter of those albums, *Stadium Lo Champions* nods to the coveted Polo Ralph Lauren collection from 1992 as it properly reunites him with Toronto producer Futurewave. Together, they make a sonically stylish pair, lacing rugged yet lush boom-bap-indebted instrumentals with intricately layered and dexterously delivered rhymes. While Fresco’s catalog includes solid work with the likes of DJ Muggs and Nicholas Craven, he sounds particularly on point when locked in with this kindred hip-hop spirit for tracks like “Mind Light” and the sublimely beat-free “Tesla Tower Power.” Another of the rapper’s repeat collaborators, Daniel Son, steps into the ring for “Steve Austin,” while grimy Massachusetts spitters Estee Nack and al.divino take pride in the hustle on the international exchange “Alpaca.”
