Vince Staples’s creative output since 2019 has been fantastic, from grade-A albums to a hilarious self-titled show, and performances on Abbott Elementary and movies, one can’t say that they’ve been underwhelmed by the amount of effort he brings to the surface. His last two albums have been some of my favorite Hip-Hop projects this decade so far; it’s unfortunate that his latest one, Dark Times, is a slight step back from what we’ve gotten before, and that’s coming from the production side of things as Vince Staples still delivers some altruistically potent and riveting reflections that aren’t all introspective but keeps the light focused at Staples more logically driven and open mind, like when he spoke about the construct of the industry instead of indulging the Drake vs. Kendrick beef—it keeps the focus of the music refreshing even if it can be slightly homogenous in atmosphere and tone. Though it isn’t fully a detriment, it doesn’t offer much room for growth beyond the walls set up by Staples. It’s unfortunate, as one would expect diversity from his last album via Def Jam, but the reflections push it from being so.
Vince Staples is a constant force that elevates the playing field when delivering his bars, especially as he keeps himself balanced between the complex and direct. Unfortunately, the production isn’t all that interesting from beginning to end, and much of that can be attributed to more of its gloomy production that doesn’t sway too far into being any different and becoming minimally tiring at times. As solid the quality of its beats, it’s more that the sounds aren’t trying to have any flair as we heard on previous albums, it’s more nuanced to the current stasis of boom-bap and sobering West Coast mixes, feeling more humbling to a core, like as Staples has matured from being flashy and relishing in his career throughout the years by humbling his mind. It’s refreshing how he approaches each song, especially the track-to-track transitions, like when it goes from his introspective talk with god on “Shame On The Devil” to “Étouffée” where he flips the tones of that introspection into a low-key hit without feeling much of a stagnant change. Vince Staples maneuvers the story structures to give us more of a hardened sense of his reality and life, as he does with “Government Cheese,” “Little Homies,” and “Étouffée.”
“Étouffée” is a major standout, from the lyricism to how it uses and morphs the productions to reflect what’s in his mind like fans talking and constantly whining for Big Fish era Vince Staples again. In an odd sense, that want and need of old Vince is mildly delivered as Vince taps into his routes of the West Coast with the production, even incorporating sounds we’ve heard in previous records, like the synths from “Blue Suede” on “Government Cheese,” which brings forth more of that gloom, a contrast to the groovier “Little Homies.” It’s a reminder that it’s still there while applying himself to be more focused and less experimental. That gloom is an entrenching force that adds purpose within the concept, specifically as it feels out waters to offer a poignant element of the theme, relationships, and not all in a romantic way. Vince Staples goes through the album reflecting on relationships as he looks on from a birds-eye view, as told through the opening track, an atmospheric and ambient production that feels more like listening to nature swaying with the flow of the wind, birds chirping, leaves rustling, and more. What makes it stand out is the loop the album goes in to offer such perspectives, especially as one looks onward.
Though the album is 10 tracks of actual songs by Vince Staples, the slight conceptual turn with the other tracks keeps it from falling into something that may have needed to be more straightforward. At the heart of this is an excerpt from a television interview between Nikki Giovanni and James Baldwin, and the notions behind one’s self-expression reflect the when as much as the why, and in hiding that unease, one can be complacent, like love at a young age. On “Justin,” Vince Staples gives us one of his more personal stories, where he speaks about this person he loved whom he met in Qatar, and how their path felt misled as she eventually introduces Vince to her boyfriend. It’s a blow to Staples, and seeing him get more worn down, instead of writing a love letter to music in “Nothing Matters,” an ode to his Def Jam years on “Freeman” or showing light amidst the darkness in “Government Cheese,” brings us closer and closer; it becomes a slight disappointment that the production doesn’t match that complexity. It does leave room for further exploration keeping it tight to the constant flow.
Dark Times may be the lesser of the last three albums, but it isn’t much so that I’d be decrying a falloff. Instead, Vince Staples is lamenting, weaving the tapestry of his life as we go through a mature journey with him. It’s like looking into the darkness to see the light of what can be, especially cause surroundings are inherited. It makes the stories slightly harrowing as you listen to how Vince can balance it all, from retaining homies through affiliations and growing as a creator, whether through visual media like movies and television or more albums. As a fan, I’ll always be waiting for what comes next, and for now, I will be bumping some “Étouffée” all summer long.
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