At the beginning of “The Times,” a smooth, diamond-in-the-back jam in the middle of his new album, (The) Forever Dream, Fly Anakin explodes into laughter. It seems to come out of nowhere, and leads Quelle Chris, who executive produced the record, into chuckling himself. There’s something in the room between them—an unheard joke, an ineffable energy—that we aren’t privy to. Suddenly, Mono En Stereo’s Blaxploitation-esque beat is that much more enveloping; we’re all in the Cadillac together, whipping through Anakin’s Richmond or Quelle’s Detroit, pungent smoke settling on the leather interior.
Snippets of laughter appear throughout (The) Forever Dream: Anakin chortles as his verse on “NOTTOOSHABBY” falls apart, the entire room erupts during a goofy freestyle session on “Dr. Phil (Skit),” and Lojii’s verse on “CheckOnMe” features a sample of Jadakiss’ iconic cackle. All these moments could’ve been edited out, but the decision to leave them in makes (The) Forever Dream that much more charming. These songs seem to form while we’re listening, as though their creators have invited us to kick it in the studio, emptying cigars, passing bottles, and yes-anding each joke. It’s the warmest, most welcoming record in Anakin's discography, a testament to his and Quelle’s chemistry, and the joy they both feel when making music.
Though Quelle only produces a couple of tracks, he looms large over the record. He pops up in the margins of songs, appearing to kick a loose verse or provide an off-the-cuff hook. Quelle likes to constantly reinvent himself, reshaping his voice with each album to find new contours. Anakin, on the other hand, is a tireless technician, seeking out and expelling the impurities in his approach, honing each line until it lands like a drum roll. His records sound less like different versions of each other than increasingly refined versions of the same idea: an MC whose every song inches closer to a Platonic ideal.
Like a shoulder massage, Quelle’s presence softens some of Anakin’s rigidity and gently encourages him to take new risks. For over a decade, Anakin and his Mutant Academy comrades have been issuing stoned, soulful music that sits somewhere between the golden-era revivalism of early aughts Justus League and the dense trippiness of Backwoodz Studioz. The largely in-house production on Anakin’s breakout album, 2022’s Frank, introduced the Mutants’ dreamy, loop-based psychedelia to a larger audience, alongside beats from progenitors like Madlib and Evidence. Here, Quelle brings in producers from his stable of collaborators, including Chris Keys, Child Actor, and August Fanon, all of whom specialize in the woozy, heavy-eyed vibe Anakin tends to gravitate toward. (The) Forever Dream doesn’t stray too far from his usual palette, but it expands the scope, positioning Anakin as an auteur of mellifluous, multicolored rap music.
Anakin has always had a keen ear for melodic production, but this is perhaps his most tuneful batch of songs yet. The Alchemist’s beat for “Corner Pocket” could be lifted from a Prefab Sprout song, its downward-spiraling chorused guitar line like a bar band too many drinks into its second set. Anakin’s bouncy iambic flow creates a lovely contrast with Bbymutha’s Gangsta Boo-like drawl, and when Quelle pops up with a chest-puffed, “Shouts out to me/I call the radio, send my shouts out to me,” Anakin’s immediate “My man!” ad-lib feels effortless and intuitive. There’s a comforting, familiar feeling throughout: The loungey chords that softly arpeggiate during opener “Good Clothes” build so patiently that you don’t notice the drums as they flutter in and out, and the lilting vocal sample on “CheckOnMe” sounds like a folk song you’ve heard all your life but can’t place. The only discordant moment comes from Quelle himself, whose production on “YOUGOTME!!” pits an out-of-tune piano line against a synth line full of accidentals, but even the clashing notes can’t suppress the catchy melody.
In press materials, Anakin refers to (The) Forever Dream as “mindless music,” an exercise in seeing what happens naturally, with no conceptual framework. He lets himself experiment more, relaxing his typical metronomic precision and adopting a shaggier, more footloose demeanor. You can hear him tinkering: On “CheckOnMe,” he introduces a loping, slightly behind-the-beat flow, pushing it to its zombie-walk extreme one song later on “NOTTOOSHABBY.” The looser moments set him up to snap back into his diamond-cut technique, so “Lil One” or “YOUGOTME!!” land as big payoffs. Things occasionally get a little too mellow, like on “Lord Forgives, I Hold Grudges,” where Denmark Vessey and Pink Siifu’s airy verses float around Anakin’s more grounded stanzas. Still, when sharing the mic with big personalities like Quelle or Turich Benjy (who unspools a showstopping verse on “Say Thank You”), or navigating the album’s driftiest beats, Anakin remains its unshakable center of gravity.
Though his profile has steadily increased over the past 11 years, Anakin has maintained some mystery. We know he loves weed, and we know who his heroes are, but we rarely glimpse his vulnerabilities and fears. He’s a bit more candid than usual on this album, acknowledging the stresses of long-term relationships (“My shorty gimme lip, sometimes I give it back/Most times, I smoke it off,” he raps on “Lil One”) or his apprehensions about the music industry (“Told me I could be the biggest thing if I just make the list/But I don’t see a future in this game playing politics,” he raps on “Forever Dream”), but it’s through the sense of community he builds that we learn what he truly values. Anakin brings Richmond with him wherever he goes—Mutant Academy members Big Kahuna OG, Foisey, and Sycho Sid all make appearances on the album, and Richmond legends Nickelus F and $ilkmoney show up to kick verses and talk shit. The laughter peppered throughout comes from many different people, and it appears as if Anakin was never recording alone. The real forever dream is simple: Continue to make dope shit with your friends for as long as possible. That’s the point of it all.
