In a Venn diagram of rap styles, Detroit and Atlanta hold little middle ground. The former is a rap that's relentless and outlandish, one that spills in and out of the four-beat structure on a whim; the latter's MCs anchor themselves to melodies, patterns, and a steady trickle of hi-hats. Yet between them sits (quite literally, if his recent mixtape covers are anything to go by) a single figure, a rapper who combines radio-ready melody with relentless flow. His name is 42 Dugg -- and with his unique, drawling vocals, he manages to synthesize these styles with ease. However, while Dugg's fusion has proven apt for upstart, trigger-clutching anthems, we've rarely seen the aftermath of that story -- a void that his latest mixtape, Free Dem Boyz, attempts to fill. As its title suggests, FDB is the product of sentencing after sentencing -- its cover names 11 of Dugg's associates, with a further 27 highlighted in its collage of mug shots. In this light, his yelps become cries; his signature whistle, typically a prelude to glorious trash-talking, becomes a deflated outward breath.
This change of pace colors many of his anthems with a potent third dimension. At the top of the rankings is the positively menacing "Free Woo," which retains Dugg's snarling boasts while lacing in stories of uncertainty and betrayal. Similar narratives arrive in the equally excellent "Maybach" and "Judge Please" -- and even the fist-thumping "4 Da Gang" is closed with a bittersweet "2018 was the year my dawg died." The nearly four-minute "Alone" -- a statement piece that stands out among two-minute bangers -- is a moonlit test of grief, a career highlight that pays cutting tribute to the costs of reckless living.
Granted, some of the choices that made Dugg's outlandish anthems so vivid let his mellow reflections fall short -- his echoing vocal FX cloud the personal narratives of "Free Merey," while his drawn-out melodies drag a little on the chorus of "Please." But these are minor missteps compared to the project's true Achilles' heel: its production. Dugg's most personal record to date is flooded with looping "type" beats, budget imitations that cling to prepacked melodies and cloudy drums. The genre's tired acoustic loops are wheeled out in embarrassing fashion -- via the repetitive "Free Merey" or the one-note "Rose Gold" -- and many that surpass this template are so murky in their mixing that any potential punch is lost. Even a brief glance at last year's Young & Turnt 2 displays a sharp decline in quality: where has the hell-raising thump of "Turnt B*tch" and "Mr. Woody" gone?
If Young & Turnt 2 was a victory lap dipped in introspection, then Free Dem Boyz flips the formula: while there are moments of victory here, even the highs are built on foundations of loss. Yet, despite a few career standouts, FDB's hollowed production condemns Dugg's stories to a murky mediocrity.
© David Crone /TiVo