Joey Bada$$ – 2000: Review

Whether thematically or through an expansion of congruent or parallel tales in sequel albums, we’ve seen them match the quality of their predecessor at times, but not at the consistent peak of the original. We’re talking the Blackouts, Blueprint 2, Man on The Moon 2, Marshall Mathers LP 2, and Only Built For The Cuban Linx Pt. 2, to name a few, but we have had rare contrasting improvements, like with Tha Carter II, but ultimately, sequels are way too common. So, when a new one is released, the hype scale skews up and down depending, and there is no in-between. Joey Bada$$ joins the lot with his latest album, 2000, an update to his debut 1999 mixtape that bridges the two with lyrical content and production style, and your hype scale should heighten. Like 1999, 2000 has an excess of boom bap and jazz rap. 2000 reminds us that Joey can command a smokey jazz lounge with crisp flows and emotionally draining lyricism.

When P. Diddy utters these words rhythmically, “Can you say New York City?/Now as we proceed/To give you what you need(Bad Boy),” you get the ting that you’re in for something extraordinary. Though it isn’t the right word to define most choruses on the album, Joey Bada$$ at least reaffirms Diddy’s words, specifically calling him the baddest. Equipped with spectacular co-productions from Statik Selektah, Chuck Strangers, Kirk Knight, and Erick the Architect, amongst others, Joey comes with smokey flows and poignant lyricism, offering a breakdown of his person in front and behind the microphone. From expressing his career doubts throughout or a continuous bounce of confidence like in “Where I Belong,” Joey acquiesces with fluidity as we picture his emotions in these larger-than-life scenes within the verse. Doubling down on “One Of Us,” there is smooth progression between tracks, maneuvering our emotional reflection. 

Unfortunately, Joey still hasn’t grown much when writing choruses. That isn’t to say he’s an albatross, but it’s stagnated, and at times, mundane 1-2-3-4-5 old school choruses don’t have that same pizzaz. It makes individual songs have some that come across like speed humps on a residential road like the potent “Eulogy.” Joey Bada$$’s weakness for writing captivating choruses stays near the front, especially on some highlights: “Cruise Control” and “Brand New 911.” It doesn’t get pushed aside, but its verses and production are enough to keep you returning. The crisp and smooth boom bap–soul hybrid beat from Mike-Will-Made-It, Marz, and Cardiak on “Cruise Control”  focuses on the nuances of the genre, using pianos subtly beneath the percussion, guiding it through the confines of slight decentness. Joey has the right approach for the melody, but it isn’t that interesting. It’s another track that adds affirmation to Joey’s coolness when exuberating confidence that ends with Nas giving us a short speech about Joey’s character, grind, and talent. 

“Brand New 911” has more of a nothing burger of a chorus–fortunately, it isn’t one of those asking for a highlight, and we get lost in the whim of vocal gun noises and slick verses from Joey Bada$$ and Westside Gunn. Like Gunn, most features acquiesce with Joey’s boom bap/Jazz centrism, further giving us highlights to replay, like “One Of Us,” with the Larry June or JID on the aforementioned “Wanna Be Loved.” They properly balance with Joey’s solo tracks that there wasn’t a moment that left me feeling like they didn’t fit. However, that’s more due to the quality of work focused on, unlike Chris Brown, who comes as his haphazard self, offering nothing but an underwhelming verse in an otherwise underwhelming track. But in essence, 2000 is more of a reflection of his career, specifically in growth, as we hear him tackle varied reflection points, like that high feeling of achieving success on “Make Me Feel.” 

See, Joey Bada$$ dropped 1999 and got talked about as this old soul bringing a modern flavor to a style that wasn’t as prominent as the 90s, especially with his quintessentially driven flows. He had swagger and ways of weaving smooth, hypnotic fluidity through multi-syllabic bars, and I remember hitting me when I heard him go toe-to-toe with Capital Steez on “Survivor Tactics.” The growth of Joey Bada$$ has been gripping and pertinent amongst others in the New York scene of the 2010s like groups Pro Era, Flatbush Zombies, Underachievers, Phony Ppl, and more. His growth since Capital Steez’s suicide and his manager’s death; it’s been a rough ride for Joey. Though it wasn’t pertinent, the subtle darkness loomed at the sounds never got brighter with immediate releases from Joey. I remember how Summer Knights reflected darker overtones, and Joey reflects how everything’s been since. We heard it throughout 2000, but significantly on “Survivor’s Guilt.”

Ending with “Survivor’s Guilt,” we hear the emotional weight Joey Badass bared throughout the years, despite having proper clarification to defend particular actions. Like how he flies a bit high and mighty and still can’t offer sound reasonings for having someone like Chris Brown on a track–friendship isn’t the best defense, and it minimally dilutes its gravitas, especially with how poignant “Survivor’s Guilt” is. Though, as a whole, 2000 has a lot that merits multiple listens, specifically with the first half–that alone will offer a rewarding experience with hearing contrasting and parallel allusions between 1999 and 2000.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10.

The Many FACES Of Mac Miller

When Faces came out in 2014, the ethereal levels Mac Miller imposes on himself has given the title a more direct meaning — opposed to forcing his hand with what works, though it’s been somewhat similar since Macadellic. Watching Movies saw Mac Miller juxtaposing his aspirations with themes that embrace the broken humanity inside, despite coming off brash a few times. Unlike Watching Movies, Mac incorporates lines from Bill Murray, Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, and others as a means to personify his different faces. Unfortunately, these samples won’t see the light of day on the DSP releases since clearing them could get expensive in the long run. But as I’ve spent the last week and a half revisiting the project, a few things ran through my mind — most importantly, how Faces is in some ways a personification of the many facets of Mac Miller’s artistry.

Faces is unlike a lot of Mac Miller projects — it diverges from a tight focus to having loose cohesion with slightly varying production styles. On Faces, you hear Mac Miller, along with co-producers like Thundercat and randomblackdude (Earl Sweatshirt), delivering an array of dreamy, bombastic, jazzy, and psychedelic overtones. And from the percussion-heavy “Malibu” to the smooth cadence of “55,” an interlude orchestrated by Mac and Thundercat, the mixtape would, indirectly, foreshadow the different directions Mac took. “Insomniak” left an impression upon revisiting as it mirrors the flows and production of GO:OD AM, while songs like “Grand Finale” and “Colors and Shapes” feel more aligned with his last two albums.

Like the projects that follow, features and producers are an embodiment of the style Mac Miller approached. In GO:OD AM, Mac Miller delivers smooth, witty, and matured raps over percussion-heavy productions — sans the Lil B interlude. Faces gave fans feature artists feeling loose like most mixtapes and their raw aesthetics. GO:OD AM is tighter by having a cohesive direction in sound. From Frank Dukes to DJ Dahi, the producers have a keen sense of style for percussion — whether it is a solo production or work amongst a few, it takes you through the wringer as Mac Miller flexes. We’ve heard him in pieces, open up about his childhood and adolescence, sometimes bordering on drug abuse and mental health issues, like on “I Know Who I Am (Killin’ Time).” And it continued on Faces

Before the release of GO:OD AM, I was one of many that questioned a lot from listening to Faces. Most of which came from Mac Miller’s inherent drug use and the jaw-dropping moment in “Grand Finale,” where Mac mentions how his habits have worsened, that he’s surprised to be alive. In GO:OD AM, Mac Miller took a different sense of direction, focusing on his successes, family, and future as the music takes a closer look at the immediate world around him as he went from 0-100 real quick in notoriety. GO:OD AM focuses on Mac’s next move, predominately on his and his families well being — it becomes tongue-in-cheek with concepts and titles that speak more than words suggest. With songs like “Brand Name” and “100 Grand Kids,” Mac plays around with his future, knowing he has secured a promising start to the bag. “Insomniak” and “Diablo” mirror what would be the production of this follow-up the year after. “Diablo” has these dark piano keys that subtly control the perceived percussion levels as Mac smoothly raps over it — the production on “Weekend” delivers nuances to the piano keys on “Diablo.”

It would allow him to change face again as he’d release The Divine Feminine.

The Divine Feminine isn’t grounded in typical Mac Miller fashion, with the most non-esoteric song being “Dang!” It sees Mac Miller embracing a form of hip-hop that is hard to create — the concept album. The Divine Feminine embraces a different style where Mac breaks down his walls again, giving fans a conscious understanding of his idea of love as he battles the trials and tribulations of the past. Like GO:OD AM, it continues to show the many faces of Mac Miller — this time incorporating different producers, prevalent to weaving soul and jazz samples on productions to add an extra level of oomph to the music. You hear Mac playing around with these soundscapes on Faces, whether it’s from finding the right way to incorporate “55” and “Angel Dust” within the big picture.

I go more in-depth with The Divine Feminine in my retrospective review, which you can read here.

Swimming and Circles closes a sudden chapter in Mac Miller’s life. It’s a duality between an artist giving a-semi-last go at rap before swimming to a world/genre he once thought about pursuing — singer/songwriter, as he was a homegrown multi-instrumentalist. It wasn’t until The Divine Feminine that we heard Mac Miller singing and pouring his soul out, and it would continue on Swimming, where the melancholy shrouded any sense of realized light in his eye. Mac Miller takes the production and subverts expectations by delivering a blend of genuine hip-hop and other nuances, like the spacey-funk-inspired “Self Care” and the subtle flows of “Small Worlds.” And it comes full-circle on Circles, a sudden 180 from hip-hop as he sings and performs with sadness and despair. Circles saw Mac collaborating with multi-instrumentalist and film-scorer Jon Brion as he weaved together this masterful piece of music. The relative nuances in some of the songs of Faces mirror where we are with Circles — “Grand Finale” and “Good News” in particular, reflect how we feel as fans today, as it expresses two moods: denial and acceptance.

As we’ve turned the corner at another year without Mac Miller, the family and the world embrace the music, and each other, as we collectively remember the legacy he left. Faces make sure of that — especially Rick Ross on “Insomniak,” who lets Mac know about their kinship as artists. If you haven’t listened to Faces, I implore you to do so as it contains some of Mac’s best work as a rapper.

The Divine Feminine: Looking Back at Mac Miller’s Opus 5 Years Later.

There aren’t many rappers who immediately jump to me to listen to their work within minutes of release — Kanye, Common, and Mac Miller, are, and were, some of the very few I have a watchful ear. Like I’ve mentioned previously, I’m someone who holds superlatives at a low — save for the few — some astound me from the length since original release or the feeling of time in-between. For Mac Miller, The Divine Feminine is the latter. The five years since haven’t felt like five years. I remember when I first heard The Divine Feminine — immediately, I galavanted about proclaiming this as Mac’s opus as an artist. To this day, I still firmly believe it, despite knowing that Mac had something better lying dormant in the crevices of his mind that we will never get to hear.

Mac Miller has always been a gifted musician; however, after Watching Movies With The Sound Off, Mac Miller would shift almost all the production to others. For an artist, it is sometimes hard to create unison between sound motifs when using different producers as their input is varied on their strengths. And Mac is privy to this, as he didn’t dabble with production until later in his career. He has been able to create cohesive and intricate music, as his focus remained on sonic motifs — Macadellic had psychedelic overtones, K.I.D.S had boom-bap made by weed smokers, and The Divine Feminine has whimsical piano keys. It speaks to the vulnerability, as it is a standard for love ballads, which in turn mirrors the vulnerability we hear from his singing.

Mac Miller is a standard falsetto without much range in pitch, with his voice only going deeper. But like his storytelling skills, Mac lets his voice express vulnerability since it allows for more emotional range than rapping. Whether we are listening to his darkened thoughts, clogged in the back of his mind like on “Grand Finale” off his Faces, or remedy an argument like on “We” off The Divine Feminine, we’re left in awe by how personable he can be. Mac isn’t new to singing, but he put it on the back burner since it wasn’t one of his strengths.

Unlike Mac Miller’s projects at the time, ambition for him came in the form of song construction since he maintained leveled hip-hop patterns throughout the first half of the decade. Good A:M saw Mac being more experimental with production, song construction, and overall concept. It’s his first fully-fleshed out concept album, as he looks at a modern relationship, specifically, that of two people whose love burns more than the outer layers suggest. 

The Divine Feminine has simple and complex situations that may occur in relationships with depth and relatability. With a clear mindset, Mac relays over his mistakes and the virtues of patience and love through songs like “Congratulations,” “My Favorite Part,” and “Soulmate,”  where Mac finds himself feeling engulfed by many thoughts that fluster his mind. “Congratulations” represents the sentiment from memories that back her divine nature, according to Mac. “Soulmate” sees Mac quantifying the meaning of the word over these triumphant horns on the production, representing the angelic glow he places on his significant other.

“My Favorite Part” was many fan’s introductions to a song where Mac Miller is solely singing. He’s sung hooks and eloquent covers live, which he did on tours — something I was fortunate enough to witness. And on the surface level of “My Favorite Part,” it doesn’t read duet, considering their musical history — and ballsy considering Ariana’s talent. But that flies out the window as soon as the song hits. Following the path of minimalism, in comparison to songs from others of similar nature, they beautifully complement each other, and it has to do with their chemistry. 

“My Favorite Part” is a smooth jazz ballad that exemplifies his deep falsetto, which beautifully compliments the lounge nature of the production. It’s calm and endearing, and you feel the spark between the two. It leaves you entranced with the groovy bass lines to maintain center stage with the percussion. Like the production, “Cinderella” stands out as the best song on The Divine Feminine. It’s a beautiful rap ballad with Ty Dolla Sign, speaking on his idealization and love for Ariana Grande — it is the only song about her on the album. “Cinderella” is split in two — the first part is about Mac’s patience with her, despite other woman’s advances; the second part explains how she made him feel after their first collaboration.

With The Divine Feminine, Mac Miller found something rooted within and explored it with the utmost detail, despite a few songs failing to reach the high point others hit. There are songs like “Skin” and “Planet God Damn,” where the former is the one that isn’t good and the latter, which is enjoyable if you’re into crass and dirty rap. Its placement feels slightly forced, as Mac makes this song specifically about sex, similar to “Skin,” which goes from an endearing love fable to implementing crude lyrics. From there, it starts to lose some importance within the overall concept.

However, what surrounds these songs are some of Mac Miller’s most focused work. Swimming and Circles levied the personable nature, which has given Mac ease with writing intricate rhymes and keeping a consistency. Despite being personal, The Divine Feminine digs into a different sector to deliver common perspectives in a slightly uncanny fashion. Mac takes life experiences; specifically, with past partners, as he reflects growth through different themes, like the meaning of a soulmate and the moods that snap amid an argument. On “Stay,” Mac takes an alternate route to the subject — he pleads to his significant other to stay so he can remedy the situation, as opposed to immediately trying to subvert her trust back with promises that he’ll get better.

Now, it isn’t uncanny for rappers to make love songs, but Mac Miller shifted the concept on its head as he finds new ways to deliver potent material. So, instead of making rudimentary raps about their dates, looks, and flexing riches, Mac is keeping simple by focusing on what makes him happy and trying to maintain stability in this aspect of life. This innate focus has allowed Mac to see the bigger picture when crafting his albums, especially The Divine Feminine. I hold this album in high regard because Mac isn’t just focusing on himself. We see him seeing other perspectives, aghast when they act the opposite, and feeling warmth the more he spends time with his divine feminine. 

In hindsight, The Divine Feminine is Mac Miller’s best work. He takes the wheel and allows his worldview to impact the various moods, whether personal or slightly oblique. But is it perfect? No, but it isn’t far from it. It set the first step for Mac to continue elevating his music with a purpose, and as a fan at the time, it was all one could ask since music heads still had some waning hesitancy. Mac himself was also slowly pushing away from the Frat/Stoner raps of his past and trying to elevate his music to newer levels. He creates depth, even when some songs carry standard situational story structures. The Divine Feminine turned 5, September 16, 2021, and it feels like it’s been 10. The world misses you, Mac.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10.