Don't Come To My House Sharing Your Location - EP by Michael Christmas, Chris Crack & Girl Talk reviewed by pitchfork — 6.7/10 | Wavelength | Wavelength
The producer and rappers join for a collaborative EP that coasts on natural chemistry, goofy jokes, and subtle accompaniment.
Girl Talk has always seemed interested in a sort of alchemy from behind the boards. The Pittsburgh-raised producer’s ability to splice samples at the speed of firing elections created his own hyperactive dance-music substance, turning him into a sort of Oppenheimer figure of the 2010s mash-up DJ scene. A similar mind for synthesis exists within Michael Christmas and Chris Crack, the pair of MCs that joined together to complete Girl Talk’s latest project, Don’t Come to My House Sharing Your Location. Comedy and dry wit are part of both the Boston and Chicago rappers’ bags, providing a cover for sensitivity and occasional darkness to sneak in; Crack with his unrelenting, reckless bars and Christmas with a more tempered, soothing approach.
Don’t Come to My House is a fun, low-stakes exercise in making three boisterous artistic personalities fit together. Girl Talk’s spontaneity gives way to bouncy, sample-based grooves that raise the quality floor rather than excite, allowing Christmas and Crack to skate freely with hilarious raps as if they’re trying to one up each other with every syllable. While the potential is capped by the simplicity of the six-song project, there’s a clear chemistry between the three that gives the tape a natural brightness that’s worth the quarter of an hour it takes to play.
Building a straight-laced version of his production style without losing his signature sense of chaos has been Girl Talk’s M.O. when he ventures into mainstream hip-hop: The pulsating energy of 2022’s Full Court Press, his collaboration with Wiz Khalifa, Big K.R.I.T., and Smoke DZA, felt full of life, and his more recent one-offs—Freeway’s 2024 “Suicide (Remix)” and Sauce Walka’s 2025 “Real Life”—register as though he’s trying to recreate booming Hustle & Flow beats from first principles. The dial is slightly turned down on Don’t Come to My House. The beats are simpler and lighter, often anchored by a singular soul sample adorned by booming basslines and hi-hats, letting Christmas and Crack romp around in brief spurts. “Garfield Hated Mondays But Didn’t Have a Job” could fill the atmosphere of a psychedelic roller-rink in Atlanta, allowing Christmas to croon on the bridge doing his best DeBarge impression. The cheekily named standout “Dr. Umar Radio Station on GTA6” takes a 1982 Atlantic Starr classic and ups the BPM ever so slightly, turning the swaying jam into a livelier groove fit for both rappers’ cadence, both jumping in the production’s negative space. The trade-off is that the beats won’t end up being very memorable in Girl Talk’s catalogue, and repeated listens can feel like you’re stuck in an oppressively optimistic 2013 house party.
But the pared down production puts Christmas and Crack in the spotlight, where they trade side-splitting raps without sacrificing technical capability. Goofiness dictates the best moments from Christmas, who feels like the driving force of the project’s playful energy: He lets homonyms run wild on “Dr. Umar Radio Station,” spitting, “Nigga pop Duke Deuce, make ’em dance Duke Deuce/Make ’em dance like Chris, make ’em dance like Bris/At the bris, fucked up, take a piss, Manischewitz twist.” Then on the next track, he’ll admit that he was doing drugs for lunch in school, before likening his youth fundraiser candy selling to the crack era in the ’80s. Crack almost plays the straight man in the duo (his absurdist bursts come on the hooks and asides, like when he sings, “Watch how the hell you be talkin’ to me,” like he’s on stage at karaoke). He’s at his best when he’s able to stretch out, letting biographical details and existential shit talking fuse together, like in the lengthy showing on “My Phone Don’t Work on Payday,” but the lack of space afforded to both keeps you from fully appreciating Crack’s intellectual flow.
Even with the limiting factors of length and structure, Don’t Come to My House works mostly because Girl Talk understands Christmas and Crack’s idiosyncrasies, and he pulls the lever on his production to make both fit. Take the closer “Bury Me With Apollo Twin,” where Crack’s delivery is backed by a triumphant electronic symphony, then subtly a few production elements are dropped to turn down the temperature for Christmas’ more understated drawl. A similar decision colors “Vending Machine Charcuterie Board,” on which a serene vocal sample is chopped up into staccato pieces to provide a counterweight to Christmas’ lounging flow. It seems that Girl Talk has long figured out that the barrage of Top 40 chaos is for a different crowd, a different taste—instead, he aims for a sort of stasis when entering rap’s ecosystem, approaching a sense of familiarity and leveling the playing field for whoever steps to the mic.
