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No Stylist in Bloomington, MN
Current price: $27.99
No Stylist in Bloomington, MN
Current price: $27.99
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Rather than sue artists that run a little too close to his style, rapper
Playboi Carti
has instead began to monetize them; his
Opium
label is a collection of the derisively named ¿Carti clones,¿ each offering their own take on the bolshie, scattered style that made him famous. The latest of these clones to pick up steam is Atlanta-based
Destroy Lonely
, a rapper with little identifying information except the viral success of his singles. Given this mysterious branding, fans may have hoped his first
tape would begin to define the rapper's sound, but unfortunately,
No Stylist
leaves no impression at all.
With 19 tracks, the project is a series of boast-centered anthems, anchoring
Lone
's Auto-Tune-heavy verses to minimal versions of the subgenre's iconic "rage beats". Frequent collaborator
Clayco
offers typical productions throughout the track's closing run -- the scratchy ¿Veteran,¿ the airy ¿Crystlcstles¿ -- while the
Cxdy
/
Chef9thegod
combo provide particularly impressive instrumentals ¿No Stylist¿ and ¿Turnin' Up,¿ the latter a camera-flash masterwork of bouncing synths. There's nothing particularly original here, but these productions serve their purpose, providing gloomier counterparts to the genre's typically explosive ethos.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of
's performances. The rapper is utterly amorphous, delivering cliché after cliché as he wheels out some of the genre's most insipid lyrics. While his contemporaries are hardly wordsmiths,
's freestyle-like bars lack any defining quality at all: it's impossible to rally for a chorus of ¿I just spent my money on guns, clothes and drugs (x2),¿ to sing along to ¿Yeah, pressure/Yeah, and I'm smoking on pressure.¿ Even the glitzy standout ¿Turnin' Up¿ loses its spark due to
's patchy chorus: ¿Oh yeah, she just let me hit/Yeah, then she f*** my brothers/Yeah, and we in this b****.¿ Topics are not anchored to times, places, or people, but emerge from a vague ocean of stereotypes, leaving the whole affair feeling inconsequential. If you fed 1,000 trap verses into an AI and asked it to produce a verse of its own, you might spot a bar or two here.
The resulting project isn't devoid of quality, but it is devoid of feeling. A sharper pen game and some personal tales might give the project some much-needed personality, but for now, it does little to differentiate
. ~ TiVo Staff
Playboi Carti
has instead began to monetize them; his
Opium
label is a collection of the derisively named ¿Carti clones,¿ each offering their own take on the bolshie, scattered style that made him famous. The latest of these clones to pick up steam is Atlanta-based
Destroy Lonely
, a rapper with little identifying information except the viral success of his singles. Given this mysterious branding, fans may have hoped his first
tape would begin to define the rapper's sound, but unfortunately,
No Stylist
leaves no impression at all.
With 19 tracks, the project is a series of boast-centered anthems, anchoring
Lone
's Auto-Tune-heavy verses to minimal versions of the subgenre's iconic "rage beats". Frequent collaborator
Clayco
offers typical productions throughout the track's closing run -- the scratchy ¿Veteran,¿ the airy ¿Crystlcstles¿ -- while the
Cxdy
/
Chef9thegod
combo provide particularly impressive instrumentals ¿No Stylist¿ and ¿Turnin' Up,¿ the latter a camera-flash masterwork of bouncing synths. There's nothing particularly original here, but these productions serve their purpose, providing gloomier counterparts to the genre's typically explosive ethos.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of
's performances. The rapper is utterly amorphous, delivering cliché after cliché as he wheels out some of the genre's most insipid lyrics. While his contemporaries are hardly wordsmiths,
's freestyle-like bars lack any defining quality at all: it's impossible to rally for a chorus of ¿I just spent my money on guns, clothes and drugs (x2),¿ to sing along to ¿Yeah, pressure/Yeah, and I'm smoking on pressure.¿ Even the glitzy standout ¿Turnin' Up¿ loses its spark due to
's patchy chorus: ¿Oh yeah, she just let me hit/Yeah, then she f*** my brothers/Yeah, and we in this b****.¿ Topics are not anchored to times, places, or people, but emerge from a vague ocean of stereotypes, leaving the whole affair feeling inconsequential. If you fed 1,000 trap verses into an AI and asked it to produce a verse of its own, you might spot a bar or two here.
The resulting project isn't devoid of quality, but it is devoid of feeling. A sharper pen game and some personal tales might give the project some much-needed personality, but for now, it does little to differentiate
. ~ TiVo Staff
Rather than sue artists that run a little too close to his style, rapper
Playboi Carti
has instead began to monetize them; his
Opium
label is a collection of the derisively named ¿Carti clones,¿ each offering their own take on the bolshie, scattered style that made him famous. The latest of these clones to pick up steam is Atlanta-based
Destroy Lonely
, a rapper with little identifying information except the viral success of his singles. Given this mysterious branding, fans may have hoped his first
tape would begin to define the rapper's sound, but unfortunately,
No Stylist
leaves no impression at all.
With 19 tracks, the project is a series of boast-centered anthems, anchoring
Lone
's Auto-Tune-heavy verses to minimal versions of the subgenre's iconic "rage beats". Frequent collaborator
Clayco
offers typical productions throughout the track's closing run -- the scratchy ¿Veteran,¿ the airy ¿Crystlcstles¿ -- while the
Cxdy
/
Chef9thegod
combo provide particularly impressive instrumentals ¿No Stylist¿ and ¿Turnin' Up,¿ the latter a camera-flash masterwork of bouncing synths. There's nothing particularly original here, but these productions serve their purpose, providing gloomier counterparts to the genre's typically explosive ethos.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of
's performances. The rapper is utterly amorphous, delivering cliché after cliché as he wheels out some of the genre's most insipid lyrics. While his contemporaries are hardly wordsmiths,
's freestyle-like bars lack any defining quality at all: it's impossible to rally for a chorus of ¿I just spent my money on guns, clothes and drugs (x2),¿ to sing along to ¿Yeah, pressure/Yeah, and I'm smoking on pressure.¿ Even the glitzy standout ¿Turnin' Up¿ loses its spark due to
's patchy chorus: ¿Oh yeah, she just let me hit/Yeah, then she f*** my brothers/Yeah, and we in this b****.¿ Topics are not anchored to times, places, or people, but emerge from a vague ocean of stereotypes, leaving the whole affair feeling inconsequential. If you fed 1,000 trap verses into an AI and asked it to produce a verse of its own, you might spot a bar or two here.
The resulting project isn't devoid of quality, but it is devoid of feeling. A sharper pen game and some personal tales might give the project some much-needed personality, but for now, it does little to differentiate
. ~ TiVo Staff
Playboi Carti
has instead began to monetize them; his
Opium
label is a collection of the derisively named ¿Carti clones,¿ each offering their own take on the bolshie, scattered style that made him famous. The latest of these clones to pick up steam is Atlanta-based
Destroy Lonely
, a rapper with little identifying information except the viral success of his singles. Given this mysterious branding, fans may have hoped his first
tape would begin to define the rapper's sound, but unfortunately,
No Stylist
leaves no impression at all.
With 19 tracks, the project is a series of boast-centered anthems, anchoring
Lone
's Auto-Tune-heavy verses to minimal versions of the subgenre's iconic "rage beats". Frequent collaborator
Clayco
offers typical productions throughout the track's closing run -- the scratchy ¿Veteran,¿ the airy ¿Crystlcstles¿ -- while the
Cxdy
/
Chef9thegod
combo provide particularly impressive instrumentals ¿No Stylist¿ and ¿Turnin' Up,¿ the latter a camera-flash masterwork of bouncing synths. There's nothing particularly original here, but these productions serve their purpose, providing gloomier counterparts to the genre's typically explosive ethos.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of
's performances. The rapper is utterly amorphous, delivering cliché after cliché as he wheels out some of the genre's most insipid lyrics. While his contemporaries are hardly wordsmiths,
's freestyle-like bars lack any defining quality at all: it's impossible to rally for a chorus of ¿I just spent my money on guns, clothes and drugs (x2),¿ to sing along to ¿Yeah, pressure/Yeah, and I'm smoking on pressure.¿ Even the glitzy standout ¿Turnin' Up¿ loses its spark due to
's patchy chorus: ¿Oh yeah, she just let me hit/Yeah, then she f*** my brothers/Yeah, and we in this b****.¿ Topics are not anchored to times, places, or people, but emerge from a vague ocean of stereotypes, leaving the whole affair feeling inconsequential. If you fed 1,000 trap verses into an AI and asked it to produce a verse of its own, you might spot a bar or two here.
The resulting project isn't devoid of quality, but it is devoid of feeling. A sharper pen game and some personal tales might give the project some much-needed personality, but for now, it does little to differentiate
. ~ TiVo Staff
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