Released August 7, 2020
6.5 / 10
Favorites
Roots (feat JID, Charlie Wilson), Compensating (feat. Young Thug), Pressure In My Palms (feat. slowthai, Vince Staples), Riri, Fetus (feat. Injury Reserve)
Least favorites
Can't Decide, Mama, My Reality
Portland's very own Aminé drops his second LP, whose title appropriately alludes to the liminal space of uncertainty in which the world resides in these turbulent times. Aminé plays with several flavors of hiphop across the record, from boom-bap to hyphy without missing to check the inevitable trap beats check box. More than that, the singer-rapper significantly dabbles in R&B and soul, choosing to take a couple pages out of yesterday's hiphop playbooks to expand his musical palate. The music serves as a canvas for personal scribbles and notes delivered along paced productions marked by patient percussions and regular pauses. Aminé certainly takes his time, at times coming across as acutely blasé, but he always brings the music back to his experience and lessons learned in the two years since his last project. The gaze inward doesn't always pay off but "Limbo" is deserving of your attention for its brightest spots.
Like several of his peers, Aminé notices the contradictions that arise from all the mixed messages and double standards black men are living with in the USA. He calls out hypocrisy when it comes to how black people are treated in the eyes of the law - exacerbated by current political leadership and judiciary appointments. He raps "when it's us, n*ggas gettin' years, maybe ten and up / Soccer moms do the same, but government don't give a fuck" in Burden. The song is the occasion for him to simultaneously address mental health issues that are undeniably tangled with the gap between outside and inside perceptions of blackness. His delivery is soulful and crispy, sporadically backed by finger-plucked guitar and continuously supported by a funky bass line. Woodland was made for a friend who got incarcerated, a tale of his come-up and being wary of people around him now that he's "made it" to a mainstream stage. The subject matter is as classic to a rap tune as love ballads are to R&B but Aminé sustains the listener's attention with speed and crisp enunciation along a flute loop and a hard-hitting beat. Becky gets right to the point, opening with the line: "Mama said, 'Don't ever bring a white girl home to me'". Named after the popularized slang term for young white women who are clueless about most racial and social issues, the song doesn't take the humorous route beyond its title. Aminé recalls an adolescent relationship with a white girl and uses the account to shed light on very real racial issues the US is far from solving. He deplores "the looks that we get in the restaurants" and addresses both families' discomfort with the relationship ("I'm fed up with your fam, you fed up with my fam"). The factual turns to frustration, culminating in the line: "I'm fed up with a world that I know I can't change". The way his vocals are pitched on the verse provides a fresh take on the R&B-hiphop blending that permeates the latter half of the record, augmented with glowing drums and shimmering subtle synths. The track's ending is a bit puzzling: the litany of "la la la"s didn't feel needed to score the winning touchdown. Instead it passes the ball to the other team and surrenders the point. Fetus comes right after, dedicated to the kid Aminé doesn't have yet and featuring Injury Reserve's late Stepa J. Groggs. The men are hoping and praying for the safety and prosperity of their kids in a country whose systems don't have their best interest at heart. The scene is set by a screeching loop, a rough beat and busy grainy musical environment that create the impression of moving as a cog in some huge relentless mechanical apparatus - the like to be imagined by Ghibli's genius Miyazaki. Delivery feels heartfelt, filled with tender lyrics and promises - "To my future daughter or son / The streams from this album gon' pay for your college fund".
"Limbo" is also for Aminé's love life as he describes it throughout the album. Uncertainty and distrust mire connections, starting with Can't Decide. In the track, Aminé questions if his relationship is good for him and finds himself at the cusp of calling things off. It's the first trip down R&B lane, on top of a breezy beat and a latin-inspired guitar sequence. The music is not on par with preceding tracks; it doesn't sound very mature both lyrically and instrumentally. The sing-song rapping is in desperate need of some salt and pepper for flavoring - a skip. Compensating is a more successful take on Aminé's shortcomings as he tries to make things right - albeit clumsily. He spends considerable energy addressing the wrongs he's done but mixes in taking responsibility for them and strangely guilting the other party. It sounds a bit rich to come up with "It's hard to admit that I've made my bed / But you know I'ma always wish you the best". If you messed up, why would you be expected to wish anything but the best on the person you inflicted the pain on? Young Thug's verse is a wormhole of nothingness lyrically and his slurring sounds slightly out of place - it isn't the best placement on the album. It's easily forgivable nonetheless, with such a hard bass line and immaculate production throughout. Riri's premise is entirely different, this time finding Aminé struggling to get rid of a woman that "broke [his] heart three times". Lyrics are juvenile in places - "One was okay / two wasn't cool / But that three was no way" mmkay - and it's little more than a clear-cut simple break-up song. It has listeners bopping heads and benefits from Joyce Wright's angelic vocals that come in and break the coming monotony before it becomes problematic. Riri leads into Easy, a generic R&B tune on how "love don't come easy". Summer Walker's silky tone is a pleasure to hear at first but somehow their collaborative effort doesn't land as well as I'd hoped. Their respective voices mesh in and out of the musical fabric a bit too frantically, coming together and breaking apart so frequently it's not easy to enjoy either. Summer Walker could also use a Pepsi or something stronger, she sounds like she's one verse away from falling asleep in the studio. The song does have intriguing funk undertones but it never really takes off - a bit of a snooze.
Aminé's interest in extending his music to more genre-bending territories is also heard through lyrical content. Pop culture nods permeate the record, through adroit puns and lyrical gems that you wouldn't expect from "Limbo". In Shimmy, Aminé flexes both skill and wealth. Along the way, he throws fun shade in Fergie's direction, recalling her horrendous rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner at an NBA All-Start game back in 2018 ("You through you made you an anthem, but you just sang you a Fergie") and even weighs in on airlines' disputable reputations ("Just 'cause you bought that vintage Margiela / Don't change your flight from Spirit to Delta"). Album highlight Pressure In My Palms is about those moments when you feel tried for your life, when the wrong look or word can send you over the edge. The track acts like a cathartic experience, letting frustration out once and for all because, as Jak Night points out in the song's outro "That's, that's broke n*gga shit to have hate in your heart / I know very untalented people with a lot of live in their heart who are doing great". Pop culture moments are having a day here as well, from Britney's infamous public meltdown ("This is Britney Spears when she was bald"), meme-turned cartoon protagonist Arthur ("I got more pressure in my palms than Arthur"), Fergie's (again!) unfortunate 2005 stage incident ("this like when Fergie peed her pants"), Steve Harvey crowning the wrong contestant as the winner of Miss Universe ("If Steve Harvey say my name wrong, I'll catch a sentencin'"), Winona Ryder's shoplifting conviction ("Winona up in Saks Fifth") to Kanye's VMA interruption ("I do yo ass the same way that Ye did Taylor") and Janet Jackson's blacklisting following her Superbowl performance ("Or how they did Janet"). Beyond all the fun winks, every single person on the track performs extraordinarily well. The chorus features stellar distorted vocals, letting the beat in at the exact right time and ending on a little sticky loop. The little drops of background vocal samples from the chorus that creep up during the verses are gold too. slowthai nearly steals the show but his contribution was kept very short so he doesn't have time to turn all heads on him - best believe he would have, had he been giving a longer spot. Bree Runway breaks the track down to beautiful crystal keys supporting her clear vocals. She also gives a backing hand with soft hight-pitched vocal loops on the final verse. A contender for best track of the year.
Aminé also uses the opportunity to acknowledge and show gratitude to those that helped him get to a place where reality and fantasy interlock whenever he can. He takes the time to pay homage to Kobe Bryant in several tracks, most straightforwardly in the Kobe interlude with Jak Knight's help. He enlists JID and Charlie Wilson in an intricate track on heritage, built around a clever metaphor on the importance of being rooted to be nurtured and grow. It has its weak lyrical moments ("I'm not a succulent or sucker, baby girl" is one of the eye-rolling lines, as is "Never been nowhere, but these n*ggas, they love to trip") but the lush music makes it easy to look past those. Instrumentals create a jungle of rumbling sounds, harp-like cascades and rich harmonies. Based on a similar premise to 2Pac's "Dear Mama", Mama shows appreciation for his mother. Led by keys, it's a cool-down song. Execution is poor, with inexplicable choices like the spoken word chorus and the cheesy entrance into the pre-chorus - reminiscent of Chance The Rapper's "The Big Day"'s lackluster. I'm sure his mom appreciates the track, but the gesture is not enough to justify the track's placement within "Limbo". The record ends with a track on living your dreams. It's Aminé's last chance to play with tone and pauses, to bongo percussions. The track is packed with ideas but its moving parts are wobbly at best. Joyce Wright's vocals are distorted beyond repair - why? She sounded so good on Riri! The final leg of the track is glorious, with an unexpected appearance by Daniel Caesar and a backing choir but the moment is short-lived, as the album is abruptly stopped in its tracks. Just like this review.
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