For The Record

In case anyone was wondering, the litmus test for giving an artist free reign to spit outright venomous obscenities that pass unexamined by the critical eye is being really, really clever -- a 16-year-old Earl Sweatshirt proved as much back in 2010 on his semi-eponymous debut mixtape. One has to wonder about the psychological ramifications of catapulting a teenage psyche to fame on the basis of rhymes boasting acidic, violent imagery and sociopathic fantasies. Couple that with the insurmountable pressure to satisfy a cosmic standard thrust upon this (inaccurately) so-called ‘prodigal son’ of notorious rap collective Odd Future by rap critics and fans alike and you get Doris, Earl’s first proper LP and major label debut.

His initial response on “Pre”—a monotonous, self-assured death threat to his detractors laid thick atop a skulking, sinister beat—seems convincing enough. The three years between releases, rife with blunts, petty crime and a brief stint in a Samoan therapeutic retreat for your more-angsty-than-average teenager, have hardened Earl’s already vapid soul. Or so it seemed.

Some ten seconds is all that’s needed for friend and frequent Odd Future collaborator Vince Staples to pierce through the egotistical façade on “Burgundy,” a grandiose jazz-infused track produced by famed duo The Neptunes. From the vantage of his insensitive fans, he mockingly calls Earl out on his insecurities and frustrations: “Why you so depressed and sad all the time like a little b****?/What’s the problem man?/…Don’t nobody care about how you feel/We want raps…”

Earl concedes with a brutally honest verse documenting the struggles that plague his attempt to produce an Illmatic-caliber follow up on someone else’s command—too little time, money and fame to afford the prioritization of his ailing grandmother above his work, all exacerbated by a nagging fear of complete failure.

And so the true Earl Sweatshirt is revealed: a confused, mentally-fragmented 19-year-old splintered from the conflicting forces of high aspirations backed by raw talent and a negatively-slanted self-awareness instilling personal doubt.
Such inner turmoil is reflected in the ambivalent structure of Doris. One moment, he’s the arrogant Earl of yore who gets twisted kicks from spewing goofy THC-induced raps about Fruit Loops and cheap shots aimed at Sarah Palin’s youngest child; the next, he’s a vulnerable kid lamenting the childhood absence of his father—the South African former poet-laureate Keorapetse Kgositsile. ‘Hesitant’ and ‘indecisive’ best characterize Earl on Doris, and unfortunately he doesn’t get anywhere by the album’s conclusion: “So, searching for a way to state it right/Young, black, and jaded, vision hazy strolling through the night.”

Though he may not have figured out exactly how to convey his burdens, Earl certainly says them alright — every single track attests to Earl’s prodigious command over language, one clearly unmatched by any rapper so far this year. A poet more so than a storyteller, his bars are potent with highly complex arrangements and dazzlingly-sly wordplay. On the standout “Hive,” a grumbling and gritty bass line creeps along parallel to Earl’s master-crafted allusions, internal rhymes and enjambed sentences. “Whoa” features what could only be described as perfect prosody on par with an early-2000s Eminem. Five, six, seven listens are still not enough to thoroughly parse the density of Earl’s verses.

His production skills have matured substantially as well. While his constructive presence was virtually nonexistent on his first effort, Earl’s prominent hands in the assembly of Doris pay off. He particularly shines alongside Frank Ocean on “Sunday,” the collaborative sequel to 2012’s “Super Rich Kids”, in which a sunny synth riff confirms that his shadows do eventually disappear when the day breaks. Thanks to the aid of RZA’s genius, “Molasses” pulses through the murky atmosphere fostered by its preceding tracks.

This isn’t to say that Doris is without flaw. Some tracks fall flat — “Guild” drifts along sluggishly while Earl and guest Mac Miller struggle to keep on its tempo and the removal of Domo Genesis from “20 Wave Tracks” probably wouldn’t hurt. In fact, sometimes one forgets that this is an Earl album instead of a new Odd Future release when his many contributors outlast and occasionally outshine the feature. As Earl continues to develop as an artist, his consistency will come to reflect his pure skill.

Honestly though, these complaints are minimal in context of the entire work. Clocking in at a short 44 minutes — although somehow seeming about 20 longer — Doris is easily one of the best albums of the summer, especially in the wake of Hova and Kanye’s rather unfortunate disappointments. But don’t expect to get hyped on this record — his demeanor can be contagious, and it’s best to listen alone and inside when it does.