Though Schoolboy Q hasn’t been quiet, it’s safe to say there may have been reasons to be after the mediocrity of Crash Talk. Though it wasn’t some albatross of an album, it left little to the imagination, as if there was some fear of losing relevancy despite how much fans and critics loved Blank Face. Fortunately, he travels back and taps into what made him Q to offer something new and refreshing that fans have been most likely waiting for, quietly, with Blue Lips. Blue Lips is a return to form, as Q focuses more on the cadence and flow of what he sets up to deliver, a tour de force, giving way to re-establishing his prose and flows. Ab-Soul did so with his album last year, Herbert, bringing back a sense of familiarity as a means to sidestep away from what wasn’t fully working—the experimentations within Crash Talk didn’t feel all-natural, trying to push through sounds that didn’t all ruminate. Blue Lips is a triumphant upgrade that sees Q feeling at home as he reminds us who he is, and that’s the artist we got with Blank Face while also letting us hear him heal.

With Blue Lips, there is bravado, sadness, and the sheer will to deliver at peak condition without any sense of distractions through predominately tight-knit constructions. Q opens the album somberly and speaks loudly within its lyrics, all before coming through with a “skrrt” from the corner and toppling tracks with seriously bombastic work that makes you come back for more and more. When Q meshes mellower, more melancholic productions/songs within the fray, adding dimensions to the lyrics to give us something more to latch as we hear his words phonetically. As a fan, I couldn’t let go, keeping it on loop without hesitation, even when it’s not all perfect. Like Crash Talk, not every feature hits, and some feel mildly unnecessary towards making the song any different. It’s mainly the case with “Pop,” where Rico Nasty does little to move the needle, and her verse at the end doesn’t leave a memorable stamp. It isn’t like the Freddie Gibbs or Ab-Soul feature, who have an established chemistry with Q, which makes their presence more aligned and smooth. They, in turn, help deliver some definitive highlights, but the absolute highlights are from Q himself.

That isn’t to discredit Rico Nasty, who has delivered phenomenal work previously and whose vocals in the chorus have more of a stamp than her verse. Her verse is swift and doesn’t add much, especially as a final marker to the song, which is a disappointment because they could have concocted something more lavish, and instead, you get this abrupt verse before Blue Lips starts to churn. It’s the opposite with other artists, who have more of a trade-off, matching verses and having some ingenuity, like how Freddie Gibbs matches Q’s luxurious arrogance on “Ohio,” which is a testament to his successes while not caring about ever coming off as tone-deaf. It has three parts, and each tackles it differently with burgeoning and differentiating productions that add weight to the song opposed to the more homogenized work of “Pop.” The same for “Ohio” can go for “Foux,” “Love Birds,” and ‘Pig Feet,” where the featured artists make themselves stand as much as Q—despite the amount of time their presence radiates—not “Movie” though, where Az Chike feels like a minimal presence due to his sound levels, slightly becoming forgettable despite being the focal point of the track, like an interlude-esque that helps transition between two different tempos.

Bolstering it too is its production; though filled with a plethora of producers (30), it has a consistent streak that makes most of what he raps resonate, especially as he maneuvers through the apropos and the in-depth reflections, one of which could make any Mac Miller fan tear up. “Blueslides” is an ode to Mac Miller, a friendship Q has held close to his heart that we’ve seen his vulnerability show when talking about it. It’s a sentiment that stays close to Q as he balances the two subjects, and more so because of the production’s fluidity. There is a lingering synergy that rarely feels lost, even when the production isn’t always on par with the intricacies of Blank Face. It’s a commodification of understanding Q’s musical roots and pushing it forth significantly, taking unique turns we wouldn’t hear otherwise. That may be a smidge hyperbolic, considering the West Coast sound is very refined, and it’s more just one element that bolsters it. However, having that kind of equilibrium bolsters everything one should love about a new Q album, especially as it gets to the tail end. It makes circling back better as the penultimate full-track, “Pig Feet,” which is this hypnotic banger that drives home what it means to ascend as a closer.

Blue Lips is fantastic, and that may come from an internalized bias that rings from standards shifting from what was the more comparatively abysmal Crash Talk. It’s another sentence that may sound more hyperbolic because it wasn’t all bad, just more of a disappointing downward spiral with little juice. It was too much of a 180 from Blank Face that you couldn’t help but get turned off. It’s like seeing the fluidity between coming from Q rapping with legendary West Coast rappers to pushing forth relevancy with Kid Cudi or 21 Savage felt oft, but as Blue Lips showed us, artists can have their moments to flounder because they will eventually come back stronger than ever. Listen to Blue Lips; it’s fantastic.