The Weekly Coos

Throughout her career, Rapsody never disappointed me. That’s more of a testament to her craft and overall onus toward musical focus when compared to others. Rapsody wants to weave more of an overarching narrative from beginning to end, akin to an open and closed book, like with her last album’s focus on the famous and powerful black women who have influenced Rapsody—it continues to her new album, Please Don’t Cry, which feels more of an artistic diary getting opened to allow us a view of what has been going through Rapsody’s mind, whether she’s addressing word around the media and streets, assuming things about her person and not allowing Rapsody to be herself, which stylistically is more tomboyish, or those who speculate on her sexuality or personal life. This is only a piece of what Rapsody raps about, and how she sets it up adds more depth and intrigue to the album. It opens with a skit where Rapsody meets her conscience (Phylicia Rashad) in a Hair Salon and unpacks as she lets loose, which is a potent way to approach it as there is a heavy association with comfortability, even if the album strays from it with fantastic production, even in its stumbles.

Predominately silent for five years in releases, Rapsody had fans starved, especially after appearances here and there like the track with Remy Ma, “Remy Rap,” and some singles. I know I was; however, I knew her return would give us something that reflects the quality one expects of her. Unfortunately, Please Don’t Cry is mildly inconsistent; it suffers from a slower third act and a slight loss of traction as Rapsody weaves non-musical conversations within the songs without relaying whether she is still in that salon. Additionally, two tracks feel slightly displaced within the confines of the album, “Niko’s Interlude” and  “Raw,” featuring Lil Wayne” which is a double down of “Back In My Bag,” another braggadocio track, though more about money and respect instead of a side lyrical exercise. The latter feels more in tune with the elements Rapsody adapts to telling her story, feeling more in line with Eve—as the tracks progress on Please Don’t Cry, she allows these walls to open and embody something more without falling into comfortability; she’s more engaged with her emotions and accepting/overcoming mental hurdles that come with the game. It’s more artistic and expansive; Rapsody is digging deeper into a bag that gives her strength to relay all these emotions, conflictions, and more.

What carries the album, more so than the lyrics, is the production, which I noted, and the melodic constructions of the choruses, as Rapsody blends different sounds into the production and gives it an individualized sense of being, like with the dancehall rhythms in “Never Enough,” or the free-flowing and fun “Black Popstar.” There are no recurring producers from the last album, aside from Eric G, but Rapsody opts for producers to push the limits of her style and in that, she assimilates, like the trap stylings of “Back In My Bag” or incorporates some synths and electronica coatings on “Diary of a Mad Bitch.” “3:AM” has more of a sultry soul/R&B tinge that flows with the strength of Erykah Badu’s chorus as Rapsody raps about sexual themes; as these songs morph and help relay the words, Rapsody’s flows allow it to be more bellicose and directional as if you’re playing her conscience and allowing her to talk to you. BLK ODYSSY is one producer who has his hands on more tracks. Still, Rapsody chooses produces who can bolster what she is trying to deliver, like having Epikh Pro and Major Seven produce these trap beats or BLK ODYSSY’s expansive nature giving us some reggae/dancehall influence on “Never Enough” and “He Shot Me.”

Unfortunately, how the album’s concept flows, it loses its tightness as it maneuvers through interpersonal conversations that feel lost within the confines of it all, especially when you realize she isn’t always at the salon. Though Rapsody opens with this focus as a talk with her conscience, she doesn’t stay focused on it, which is more of a detriment as Rapsody rarely returns to this talk, walking out and rapping these intricate and reflective thoughts as she weaves two different elements: the concept and the more prototypical rap album flow. By that, I mean the tracks come with clean transitions between them, and it makes the listening aspect more of a rewarding experience, even as a step back from the perfection that was Eve in 2019. It’s more of a harmonious flow that, if trimmed via certain choices or incorporated more, the conceptual turn may have been more profound like Eve. While Eve was tighter, the pacing was crisp; here, Rapsody is in and out, trying to use hair as a metaphor for growth, which is brilliant considering the stigma within the Black Community. It makes me wish she did more with it instead of opening it and flooding you with all these thoughts.

There is nothing wrong with the slight rant drops coming from such an insane sequence of fantastic tracks, but with vocal bits that aren’t apt, like that of Charlemagne Tha God on “Look What You’ve Done.” These minor instances, along with the two misnomers in “Niko’s Interlude” and “Raw;” the songs aren’t bad but don’t feel like they truly belong when flowing with the rest. It’s easy for me to understand the stagnant focus on the concept, especially as Rapsody compiles a lot into the fray, and continues to stay as vulnerable as ever. It becomes a slight afterthought, while other elements can take you away, like the slowly-paced third act, where the final three songs become those that stay with you longer, especially after a modestly forgettable verse by Baby Tate. Please Don’t Cry is a step back, but giving us Rapsody at the top of her game as it keeps me engaged. It’s one that I may go back to and love more, but it’s still something worth listening to.