If every hot rapper of the last five years was tossed into a cauldron and stirred together until they were only mildly recognizable, the end product would probably be Roddy Ricch. The 21-year-old Compton-raised crooner can’t decide if he wants to make moody and raw piano-driven street tales like his breakout single “Die Young,” motivational high school basketball warm-up anthems like “Every Season,” or polished and sunny Young Thug-inspired pop songs like his Mustard-produced “Ballin’.” Please Excuse Me for Being Antisocial is not the slogan of an Etsy boutique that prints the phrase on Gildan hoodies and caps with adjustable strapbacks, but the title of his debut. The name has nothing to do with his music; it’s just an attempt to manufacture an identity or maybe inspire a few Instagram captions.
But say this for Roddy: No matter the trend he’s chasing, he usually wrings a solid song from it. Please Excuse Me for Being Antisocial begins in the most cliche way possible—with a “Dreams and Nightmares”-style intro. As soon as the first somber piano key hits and Roddy starts wailing and reflecting on his upbringing, we know exactly where the track is headed, but he hits the marks well, including the intense beat switch, the motivational flex bars, the details about how he overcame the obstacles and secured the bag. It works. So does“Big Stepper,” when he, of course, meditates on the past over an acoustic guitar-sampling instrumental. His storytelling is rote, but gets over on the warmth of the melody.
There’s not a flow Roddy Ricch isn’t comfortable borrowing. On “Start Wit Me,” Roddy fills in for Lil Baby as Gunna’s partner in listing fashion brands, a low stakes song that just fills Gunna’s weekly appearance on a major label rap album quota—there’s no way Gunna is keeping track of his features at this point. “High Fashion,” his second collaboration of the year with Mustard, is a Young Thug rip so egregious that it probably could have been generated by an AI, but he sings his heart out, and the beat that puts a bright West Coast spin on ’90s R&B.
The few instances where Roddy breaks free from imitation provide standouts. On “War Baby,” Roddy seamlessly harmonizes with a gospel choir like the chameleon he is. And on “The Box,” over a hard-hitting beat that sounds like a teapot is boiling in the background, he finds a new delivery and pitch nearly every 10 seconds. The track is the best example of Roddy’s versatility, which has been both a blessing and a curse. Most rappers would sell their soul for his ability to shape his melody to latch onto any relevant sound, but everything here feels so safe. Roddy’s too good a songwriter to settle for being so vapid.
