California trio grouptherapy. is a product of a particular model of young stardom. Growing up, Tyrel J. “TJOnline” Williams and Coy “SWIM” Stewart appeared on every network and streaming service, from Disney Channel to Nickelodeon to Netflix. Around the same time, Jadagrace featured in 2009’s Terminator: Salvation, had her own TV show, and signed a major-label record deal, all before she started high school. In another era, they might’ve been forced into an ensemble by executives looking to milk the cable-TV-to-pop-star pipeline that birthed Miley Cyrus or Zendaya. Instead, the self-described artist collective first became friends on the audition circuit as kids, bonding over a love for music that pushed them away from the unforgiving and dangerous world of child acting (not that the music industry is much better). grouptherapy. began as three Black misfits making music for themselves and now they’re bringing their genre-straddling music to the world on their terms. There’s a wide-eyed fascination with every sound they dabble in; they sound like giddy theater kids after their first experience with a Tyler, the Creator or BROCKHAMPTON album.
That isn’t to say grouptherapy.’s members are lacking in skill. Their flows are malleable and energetic, but even their best songs have a summer-camp-talent-show quality to them. Take “American Psycho,” the second track on their debut album i was mature for my age, but i was still a child. Over reverb-drenched guitars and Jada’s background growls, TJ and SWIM vent about mental health issues, the corrupting power of money, and being bullied for being Black and queer. What’s supposed to be honest and raw instead feels overly earnest and chintzy. TJ’s verse in particular sounds like a rejected draft from the Saturation III sessions: “I hate niggas ’cause the niggas hate me right on back/I hate hoes ’cause they never wanna see me relax/And it’s not a ho in the sense of having a pussy/But tryna pull the pussy outta me, tryna challenge me.” mature, and its deluxe edition THE ADDENDUM, struggle to find a middle ground between treacly writing and the bubbly pop-rap they’ve made their name on.
The most notable change from earlier projects is a more expansive ear for beats. Both 2020’s there goes the neighborhood and 2022’s Truth Be Told had more uniform production aesthetics, but mature speeds through so many different styles of rap, it often feels overwhelming. Looking for bars over melancholy piano, cribbed straight from the Saba playbook? “smiles :)” has you covered. What about pastiches of Beyoncé’s “PURE/HONEY” or the deadpan hilarity of Rio Da Yung OG-style Michigan street rap? Try “Lightspeed ~>” or TJ’s closing verse on “Nasty.” There are attempts at drum’n’bass (“HOT!”), boom-bap (“Help Pt. 2”), and pluggnB (“GT.”), which strain to illustrate grouptherapy.’s versatility. It’s all serviceable, polished, and competently performed, but it often doesn’t stick; the stuff that does just leaves you wanting more of the trio’s eccentricities, as opposed to what’s currently on their playlist. Outside of critiques of consumer culture that frequently veer toward the contradictory (stating that the impulse to flex “isn’t healthy” on “Help Pt. 1” before claiming to speak “billion-dollar banter” two tracks later on “FUNKFEST”), there’s little that’s refreshing here. We’re left with formless variety, ideas with no spine fusing them together.
Still, grouptherapy.’s enthusiasm can be infectious from time to time, especially on the songs where they cut loose and just bar out. The peppy sing-raps on “thatsmycheck.” and the Memphis crunk-style chants that power the hook for “DYSBF!” help their respective songs crackle and pop (Jada’s fiery verse on “thatsmycheck.” is also one of the funniest and most amped on the album.) This energy goes further on ADDENDUM’s seven extra songs, which are generally less self-serious. Tracks like “Home Alone” and “thank u so much” are breezy and effortless, the trio’s personalities popping as they trade jokes and off-kilter flexes about not having taken the SATs. These details are way more endearing than moments like “still alive,” which sullies the delicate immersion into the group’s backstories with plodding keyboards and vocal harmonies that even Chance the Rapper would find too syrupy. grouptherapy.’s current sound isn’t sprawling in an Odd Future or Tierra Whack sense; it’s just unwieldy. With some more work, they could one day find themselves on similarly hallowed ground as their various influences. For now, they still have some growing up to do.
