Mick Jenkins has spent his career holding a mirror to America and delving into the furthest corners of his soul. The loquacious Chicago rapper is fiercely ambitious when it comes to the album as an art form. We’re talking about a man who tried to define the meaning of love on The Healing Component, walk the path of Gil Scott-Heron on the intensely personal Pieces of a Man, and submerge himself into the conceptual depths of The Water(s). On his latest album, Elephant in the Room, Jenkins ditches the epic scope and thematic cohesion of those projects for something shorter and more scattered. By and large, he sticks to what has worked in the past: soft beats, jerky raps, intimate writing, and big-picture examination.
As ever with Jenkins, some of the most notable cuts are the societal critiques. “Thing You Could Die for If Doing While Black” is startling in its forthrightness. Jenkins drops his complex cadences and, in a low-toned voice, lists basic activities that can put him in danger with authorities. His lyrics range from mild offenses, like speeding and casual weed smoking, to the simple act of existing: “Might wanna go for a jog/Might wanna sleep in my car/Might wanna sleep in my bed.” The beat is built from despondent electric piano chords and, later, a bluesy guitar riff that sounds like something out of a noir cop thriller, adding another ripple to this probe on police violence.
On “Reflection,” Jenkins discusses his relationship with his father and his lingering feelings of abandonment: “He 6'2", I’m 6'5", he used to make me feel small/ I used to think he was strong, now I know he just weak.” It taps into the same hurt and resentment that Tyler, the Creator portrayed on the more hostile “Answer” back in 2013, and it reaffirms Jenkins as one of rap’s most interesting portrayers of great, but common, pain.
Not every concept is as strong. “D.U.I.” confusingly repurposes the titular abbreviation to critique the role of influencers. In the lyrics, Jenkins airs grievances toward those who want to take advantage of his fame for their own ends. The writing doesn’t land and he sounds more mildly pissed off than righteously furious. It was an idea best left in his notebook.
Jenkins still sounds most content when he simply raps about girls and stuff: Produced by lophiile, “Gucci Tried to Tell Me”—presumably a reference to Gucci Mane’s Noisy Raps interview—is jazz rap in the lineage of Slum Village, and Jenkins fills the lyrics with sweet nothings: “I’m no Randy Moss, but I'll catch your feels one day.” And with its clicky percussion and double-bass bumps, “Truffles” is in the lineage of older cuts such as “Pressed for Time (Crossed My Mind),” offering further evidence of Jenkins’ penchant for beats sparse on elements but unusual in their sense of rhythm. These highlights cohere into another solid project, but at this stage in Jenkins’ career, adding some new parts to his formula feels pertinent. Getting into a groove is cool, but staying in that groove for too long can become a detriment.
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