The Weekly Coos

Since Mick Jenkins released The Water(s), his career has been on a steady upclimb, gliding through with synergetic virtuosity that sometimes makes you wonder why he has never seen the next stratosphere. But in the long run, that may be for the best as his status never dwindled, retaining a heavy fan base that relishes in the conceptual tenacity beholden the directions of his albums, making a return more rewarding. His latest album, The Patience, sees Jenkins continuing to break apart reality and give listeners the low down on how it is. As Jenkins would note via press release: “I see this as a period of time in one’s journey, no matter the length, where the unseen things must take place; The muscles must tear and repair, the understanding of a concept coming to you in a moment completely devoid of artistic intention. Through these moments, I’ve found myself being the most frustrated with patience,” paving the way for the emotional density guiding The Patience. Unfortunately, the album flies by swiftly with pacing that reflects that frustration, but some songs leave you wanting more.

From the moment it starts, Mick Jenkins takes control of the wheel, reinstating his place in his drive. As he would rap on “Michelin Star,” “Ain’t under no spell, I know you smell what a nigga cookin, I’m hungry as hell/These niggas gon’ bear witness a Michelin star, could see it this far/Back when a nigga was line cookin’, I’m sous chefin’ these days/Proof-readin’ these plates with a fine-tooth comb, won’t find a line crooked” and that hunger is explored and delivered exponentially. His weaving of stories with intricate themes beneath conceptually rich content like escapism on the enigmatic “Smoke Break-Dance” featuring JID. The song uses smoking weed to cope with the world around them – as the producer for the music video noted, “The song made me think about the different vices or ‘highs’ we use to escape reality. But they can be double-edged swords as well,” which reflects how it can end up controlling you in the long run. The emotional depth of the writing stays strong through many songs on the album, and it’s Jenkins’ delivery and writing that keep that central focus at bay. 

With the way The Patience got constructed, it feels like there isn’t much that’s bothering Mick Jenkins, as the album reflects how it’s modestly running thin with him. It’s as if what’s bothering him is more of the same, and what he’s viewing is more of a reflection of what he’s been through or has seen relative patterns of. Though his last album, Elephant In The Room, was slightly more universal with its themes – whether open to the world or personable – in it, he spoke on race with “Things You Could Die For If Doing While Black” or questioning the connectivity between Hip-Hop and gang relations throughout the years on “Is, This Cigarettes?,”, especially with the countless deaths we’ve heard about. That slight continuation on The Patience has more personal nuance as we listen to him reflect further on similar themes with equally potent veracity. We hear him flexing, but staying humbled, trying to enact this hunger he expresses throughout, even when the content speaks to different themes.

“2004” shows Jenkins’ lack of patience for those around him who can’t see he’s the same but more mature – “007” has Jenkins noting how he’s living and eating like the GOATs, yet he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt and create this character that isn’t him by attaching himself to name brands – “Guapanese” speaks on the homogenized content that has been guiding these new rappers without much depth; in this case, it’s the money, where it’s just an expression of worth instead of having something meaningful to say. Even when Mick Jenkins takes side steps and falls back into flexing and flaunting, as he does on “Farm to Table,” it doesn’t carry much of a faux-pa sense of being where Mick Jenkins doesn’t need to name-drop luxury, humbling himself and living. Vic Mensa’s contrasting verse becomes mum and forgettable, almost leaving this song lost within the confines of its near-perfect run. It’s the only feature that doesn’t shine as Freddie Gibbs, J.I.D., and Benny the Butcher, the latter of which has a great verse, but the song feels shortsighted with its length. Benny the Butcher, like Vic Mensa, contrasts the depth of Mick Jenkins’, but Benny The Butcher understood the assignment more, and the fun flow sample at the end mirroring that of “I’m Upset” was a proper touch.

Through it all, we hear Mick Jenkins rapping and consistently expressing notions of confidence, resilience, and hunger to be himself and retain a sense of popularity without shilling out to rap about what people want to hear daily – more danceable braggadocio ignorance and less reflective, and more creatively driven through the conceptual fortitude within the song structures. One that stood out amongst the rest was “Roy G. Biv,” which uses the layout from a rhyme to learn the colors of the rainbow in order as a way to maneuver his verses and chorus – it’s these kinds of elements that allow Mick Jenkins to stand out from others who may be more linear with their approach. It’s why I gravitated to Jenkins since The Water(s); it’s his tenacity to paint the canvas till there are no empty spaces and beautifully create these new pieces of art that intertwine and deliver upon what Jenkins wants to convey without excess wrought metaphorical complexities.

However, despite potential intention with the pacing and length, The Patience doesn’t fully accomplish the means, where it makes you feel a little unsatisfied that there wasn’t more to add to the table. But as it all rounds out with some quality production, this new album by Mick Jenkins is worth the listen and attention, especially with his sick rhymes. I thoroughly enjoyed this album despite my reservations, I implore you to give it a spin since it’s not every day we get these kinds of rap songs.