2014 was a banner year for DJ Mustard. He released his debut album, 10 Summers, scored seven Top 15 hits on the rap charts—among them Big Sean’s “I Don’t Fuck With You,” Tinashe’s “2 On,” and Jeremih’s “Don’t Tell ‘Em”—and his mere presence spawned Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy,” a blatant copy of his sound and aesthetic. He became ubiquitous. In the midst of mainstream notoriety, perhaps his greatest achievement was YG’s My Krazy Life, a cohesive gangsta rap epic that he co-executive produced alongside the Compton rapper, his longtime friend. The album solidified both artists as West Coast rap revivalists, bringing new flavor to decades of SoCal and Bay Area rap tradition, and it jumpstarted Mustard’s run, which was capped by Omarion’s platinum hit “Post to Be” that November. But things went sour for Mustard in the following months: The hit-well dried up, he was sued twice—by producer Mike Free for credits on 20 of Mustard’s hits and by BMG Rights Management over the rights to “Post to Be”—and he and YG had a falling out over money, exchanging threats on social media.
This year, DJ Mustard quietly bounced back, mending bridges and retooling the sounds of his patented “ratchet music,” which has often been dismissed for its simplicity and lack of variety, into something with more range. After landing one of the biggest hits of his career with Rihanna’s “Needed Me” and joining her on her worldwide tour, he settled the lawsuit with Free and reconciled with YG, prepping a mixtape with the latter called 400 Summers. While that tape has yet to materialize, he’s returned with a new full-length album, Cold Summer, another seasonal release that brings the bangers.
The entire concept behind Mustard’s debut was that he had enough hits to run rap for 10 summers straight. But summer also embodies a vibe for Mustard, representative of his native Los Angeles. His music is well-suited for the season with isolated synth stabs, sub-rattling bass lines, and dance-friendly tempos. It’s warm, candy-painted, and radio ready. Every summer since 2013, he’s released a project—Ketchup, 10 Summers, and 10 Summers: The Mixtape Vol. 1. Cold Summer is a late entry (hence the name) that attempts to continue the custom, letting big-name guests mingle with his Pushaz Ink stand-ins. But where past projects were flexes for his brand or promotional tools for his friends and artists, this record just feels humbled and appreciative.
It’s fitting that Cold Summer opens with “Been a Long Time,” a reunion with longtime collaborators YG and Ty Dolla $ign. The lyrics reflect their bond and their come-up, with YG rapping, “Three Musketeers back together and they winning/And they getting too much money/Turn niggas rich then the crew must love me.” On the closer, “Another Summer,” which ditches solo riffs for a serene synth wash, Rick Ross seemingly speaks for Mustard with bars like “Look me in my eyes and tell me what you see/You watch the homie come up from a mustard seed/Ain’t looking for no problems, just a chance to eat/And I make mama a promise I’m a plant my feet.” In a monologue, Mustard gives the CliffsNotes version of his year, outlining his triumphs, his misfires, how happy he is to be reunited with YG and how thankful he is to be rich. Everything that happens between these two songs seems celebratory in response to these victories.
Some songs, like the Nicki Minaj and Jeremih-featuring “Don’t Hurt Me” and the unlikely Quavo and YG tag-teamer “Want Her,” are designed specifically with the old blueprint in mind—snaps, claps, “heys,” twittering hi-hats, and booming bass. But much of Cold Summer is a subtle departure from the production that led to the reductive yet understandable “DJ Mustard’s Piano” meme. On “What These Bitches Want,” full piano chords and synth strings give way to rich, G-funky production while Meek Mill and Nipsey Hussle recount street tales from their respective hoods. The Ty Dolla $ign solo joint, “Lil Baby,” is sparse with twangy licks that build around the crooner’s performance. Mustard has always shown much more competence laying R&B tracks (like “2 On,” Trey Songz’ “Na Na,” and Ty’s “Paranoid”), and the standout is “10,000 Hours,” a showcase for London singer Ella Mai that turns the Malcolm Gladwell method into a formula for perfect romance.
Cold Summer doesn’t dazzle on sheer star power the way a Khaled album can, and there isn’t anything as delightfully weird as DJ Drama’s sex-shooter collab “Camera” with Lil Uzi Vert, Mac Miller, and Post Malone, but it consistently jams; it knows what it is, and it never attempts to do too much. It isn’t quite as infectious as his debut, and it may not have the punchy, radio-friendly appeal of his freelance work, but it feels like a win.
