Kid Cudi's an undeniably popular rapper. Though his 2009 debut Man on the Moon and its slightly better sequel weren't exactly critical darlings, he’s been a reliable Soundscan dent-maker and the type of figure that easily inspires 379-page threads on message board and hype thermometer KanyeToThe. And even if Cudi rarely lines it all up, his ability's evident: The music's production, which is for the most part self-generated, is usually interesting, and his fuck-the-world posturing resonates with a certain angsty personality type. When he finds the right balance-- Man on the Moon II’s “Ghost!” is the best example-- it can add up to an effective cocktail of blurred anguish. Three years after the overstuffed Man on the Moon II and several outside dalliances-- the rock/rap sideproject WZRD, a small role in HBO’s cancelled "Entourage" spin-off "How to Make it in America"-- Cudi’s back with Indicud, which aims for a little bit of everything: It's an 18-song collection that features guests from the indie rock world (HAIM, Father John Misty) as well as new-school demigods Kendrick Lamar and A$AP Rocky. And Michael Bolton.
Factoring in all of that, Indicud has the sheen of a cinematic blockbuster. At 70 minutes, it certainly has cinematic length, too: "Guess I'm just a star of my movie," Cudi thinks aloud on "Mad Solar". Unfortunately, it also has no substance. From the first notes of the melodramatic opening instrumental "The Resurrection of Scott Mescudi", it's pretty easy to size up where Cudi's head is at these days, thanks to serrated, booming production underscored by a heartbeat-like drum lurch. It's ominous but hollow stuff. Ever prone to grandiose proclamations, Cudi wastes no time on Indicud; "You know I'm unfuckwittable!" he belts, his chest fully puffed. He's certainly putting his money where his mouth is, but to ill effect; though A$AP Rocky and Kendrick drop by, they do just enough to collect the paycheck and hit the door. Old heads RZA and Too $hort roll through and check in and out just as unremarkably. Nothing sticks. From the outset, he's more concerned with the soundscape shrapnel left over from WZRD than he is with synthesizers, a tool with which he's more effective.
For someone who's attained such a following, Cudi is remarkably unlikeable. Confessions like "Just What I Am"'s "In my spare time, punching walls, fucking up my hand/ I know that shit sound super cray, but if you had my life you’d understand" come off as humblebrags about just how tough it is to be famous. He seethes about being G.O.O.D. Music's "black sheep" and calls haters "pussies." Outside of the occasional nugget of calm-- the HAIM and Hit-Boy collab "Red Eye", maybe-- Indicud is one long, increasingly grating vent. And if rage isn't your thing, don't worry about sifting through Indicud's softer side, capped by the nine-minute slog "Afterwards (Bring Yo' Friends)". Fashioned as a late-night dance-party jam, it's built around sensationally off-putting come-hithers by soft rock titan Michael Bolton as well as Cudi's woozy synths kicking up dirt in the name of "atmosphere."
Long gone are the days of the spongy "Pursuit of Happiness" as well as the Trojan Horse that initially brought Kid Cudi through our gates, "Day 'n' Nite". "I look for peace, but see, I don't attain," he chanted on that song. Now, he's officially off Kanye West's G.O.O.D. Music imprint-- it's amicable, Cudi insists, and he'll carry on with his own label, Wicked Awesome. Still, he looks for war in Indicud; he can't find anyone to fight, but he rages anyway.
