Though a shift from Scaring The Hoes, a collaboration between Danny Brown and JPEGMAFIA, and his work from the first half of the 2010s, Brown’s continuation into this world of jazz, melancholy, and introspection has paved new avenues. Granted, as a fan would be, getting this hyperactive and druggie-pilled commentary over uniquely methodical production is something you might yearn for because he got features from a fantastic palette of genres. His new album, Quaranta, cheekily titled 40 in Italian, speaks to those who, similarly, feel to the now, which he would describe as “his experiences with pain, isolation, and hitting rock bottom”—it’s like a bookend where he’s sifting through pages of past journals or written songs and seeing the growth he has gone through, particularly as he bettered himself from Alcohol and Drug addiction. It’s why we see him still himself, with slight erraticism, but more tenured and mature. In an interview with Rolling Stone Magazine, he noted,“…it was almost like, if I died, this is what I have to say.” It accomplishes to spell what Brown speaks, and in doing so, one gets an album that comes from the root of his soul, giving us a bit of it all.

Danny Brown doesn’t mince words as he cuts to the chase and walks up to us with a microphone, pen, and pad to deliver some profound writing that expresses his personal emotional complexities—whether through talking about addiction or understanding how his music said one thing, while the beat elevated it tonally differently, like how “Wonderbread” off Old brings this more uprooted avant-garde jazz-rap with a lavish emphasis on the flute. However, in the song, Danny Brown recounts the death of a drug user, witnessed as he got sent to pick up some food at the store—that trauma, the effects later on in his life, and more are potent elements that get embraced by the album, yet it isn’t all direct. In “Ain’t My Concern,” Danny Brown keens on the state of hip-hop today, intricately relaying this notion of trends and how specific anecdotes within it (whether sound or content) gain notoriety and others like Brown keep themselves authentic. Equally within that realm, Danny Brown is looking beyond the personal, as much flowing through his mind and staying separated from the fray, knowing the loyalty had to retain a sense of sense through different soundscapes.

From the cut, Quaranta isn’t spearheading one tone, and much of it comes from its production, which develops a sense of a direction for Danny Brown to shift from Rap-Identity Politics on “Dark Sword Angel” to lamenting on his youth being young, black, and poor on “Y.B.P.” featuring Detroit rapper Bruiser Wolf who sounds like a mix between E-40 and Suga Free—that’s beside the point as Bruiser comes in with this elegant nod/verse to the Detroit streets. The cadence in his flow feels nuanced to the melodicism of past Hip-Hop with more of a fluid bravado, allowing the lyrical flow to come naturally and offer a contrasting tone to Danny Brown. Most of these songs retain that natural rhythm, but it doesn’t mean that’s equally gripping each, specifically when Danny Brown aims for these different perspectives. Though, of all the songs to feel as down towards is “Tantor,” which is that back to classic Danny Brown with the enigmatic percussion and proud brass section keeping a loop potent through the different patterns beneath; unfortunately, as Danny Brown tries to balance to sides of the aisle between realism and satire, it doesn’t make the album accelerate with fluidity. It’s a good song that didn’t work when looking at it front to back. 

Much of the production comes from Kassa Overall, along with Chris Keys, Quelle Chris, and The Alchemist, Paul White, amongst others, and from them, it’s quite a few minimalistic productions that offer a clear vision through the tunnel so we can see and hear what Danny Brown wants to deliver; some examples: “Bass Jam” is this groovy and purposely hollow and streamlined bass lines layered over each other ominously, adding to the live instrumentations nostalgia Brown reflects on with it. “Down With It” and “Celibate” have this cadence within the minimalistic world, playing to the subtleties of jazz as it blends with the moving drum patterns, specifically the intricate array of horns. Sometimes, it gets more positively eclectic, like with “Hanami,” which combines more layers of brass with more righteous drum patterns to add to its more melancholic vibe; “Jenn’s Terrific Vacation,” featuring Kassa Overall is chaotic good, giving form to something more fluid and excellent, as opposed to the “Tantor,” where it’s content makes it feel more like it doesn’t belong within the contextual flow. Like “Tantor,” “Jenn’s Terrific Vacation” is enigmatic, mirroring the two “Ain’t My Concern” and “Dark Sword Angel,” except slightly more chaotic, which adds to the loudness gentrification has on an area—something we’ve all witnessed.

Throughout Quaranta, Danny Brown brings some nuance to it. It’s a well-rounded flow of greatness that seems to continue feeling like a given for Danny Brown’s solo work in album form. I was a major fan of the album, though it may not be one return to because of the subject matter, but that isn’t a detriment as it just means the album is more centered on a mood and can’t just be something played casually like “Detroit vs Everybody.” Give Quaranta a shot; it has some juice that delivers while letting you hear his identity beautifully.