“Everybody” hates Logic’s new album

%E2%80%9CEverybody%E2%80%9D+hates+Logic%E2%80%99s+new+album

Logic finds himself acting as a repetitive and incoherent pseudo-intellectual who raps about the problems of his biraciality while also falling prey to a victim complex and faux existentialism, finding amateurism where other rappers would find maturity and development in their careers.

The horror begins with “Hallelujah.” Seemingly harmless at first, the vocal loops and soulful rhythmic keys slowly-but-surely morph into subpar Soundcloud rap. The listener is forced to wait for what seems like an eternity for the first verse to begin. This foreshadows the daunting task the listener has ahead of them: completing the album. “Hallelujah” stands as a failed attempt at conscious rap which rather leads to confusion.

Title track “Everybody” evokes Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright” from the very first second of pseudo-gospel backing vocals, and even with his lines on running from the “popo.” The resemblance between the two tracks would be enough to elicit a lawsuit if it were not for Logic’s scattered thoughts and lack of focus, with his “bars” descending into chaotic turmoil. Logic then switches to borrowing from another contemporary, who also happens to be of a higher tier: J. Cole. Logic “takes influences” from Cole’s “G.O.M.D.”, with references to “house n****s” and male choral arrangements, phrases which are copied near exact. “Everybody” is the closest and farthest Logic reaches to conscious rap, which is sadly only possible by leaning on the superior work of others.

“Waiting Room” continues with a prolonged afterlife skit in which an average man named Atom is killed and sent to a place he cannot comprehend. This is made complete with a cliché God character with the voice of Neil Degrasse Tyson guiding Atom through afterlife and reincarnation. While the listener may be initially hooked by the ‘deep’ concepts and the unprecedented level of introspection and lyrical depth not found anywhere else on the album, a quick Google search reveals that it is nothing more than an edited version of Andy Weir’s “The Egg” — which is proof that Logic simply recycles the genius of others rather than actually creating something unique of his own. The track is nothing more than a cheap imitation of another’s work to mask his own glaring flaws, leading back to the album’s mixtape-like plasticity.

“America” is perhaps the best track on the album, which isn’t saying much. A track that seems to be an attempt at redemption is unfortunately not propelled by Logic’s own talent, but by the rappers featured on the song. The renowned producer No I.D., raps for the first time in nearly 20 years. Legendary MCs like Black Thought and Chuck D provide the backbone on Logic’s own song. This makes the listener question what the rapper even brings to the piece. The answer is sadly nothing more than a bombastic hook. “America” can be thought of as a modern-day “Renegade.” Unfortunately for Logic, he was killed more than once on this track. Incoherent hypebeast yelling is set in contrast to a funky bassline stolen from the 70’s, giving an even more sickly malformed tone to the song.

The final track, “AfricAryaN” certainly wants to sound important — but misses the mark with preachy, repetitive ideas. Although the story of a racially-mixed rapper seems intriguing, Logic’s heavy-handed craftsmanship fails to match the intensity and seriousness of the issue he lectures about. The track fights for redemption, however, as J. Cole enters in a lo-fi beat change and smooth flow. Early in the verse, he raps from Logic’s perspective and offers the amateur artist advice, saying, “F***the black and white s***. Be who you are, identify as a star.” And unfortunately for Logic, Cole is better able to convey what he attempted to do throughout the whole album in just 3 minutes.

The album’s repetitive nature and scattered thoughts make it a tough listen. From start to finish, the rapping is subpar at best and fails to meet the creative standard set by artists in the industry. Falling short of releasing club bangers and also failing at conscious rap, the listener is left wondering “What can Logic do?” The answer is as simplistic as Logic’s approach to the complex racial and sociopolitical conflicts he attempts to address on this album: convoluted nonsense.