The inspirational Netflix documentary about YoungBoy Never Broke Again would probably go something like this: He was a teenager constantly getting screwed by the legal system and therefore made an outcast by the music industry, yet in spite of that he became one of the biggest rappers in the world; while that tale might be somewhat true, its simplicity smooths out all the rough edges. The bleak reality is that his popularity didn’t arise simply because the music is good, which it often is, but it was also fueled by fan obsession with authenticity and realism.
Earlier this March, the FBI swooped in on the 21-year-old Baton Rouge rap star and indicted him on weapons and drug charges. It may sound like nothing new, but it was, especially since his attorneys alleged this was a targeted message sent by the FBI, which doesn’t sound out of character for the infamous hip-hop cops. His first album in nearly a year, Sincerely, Kentrell, comes while he’s still in jail, arriving with minimal promotion (there were even rumors that YouTube, the platform where his music took off, refused to support his album). This all only intensifies a well crafted, but ethically questionable branding embraced by his team and Atlantic Records: He is a rebel who is scratching and clawing to have his voice heard while the powers that be try to silence him.
It’s hard to consider Kentrell without this baggage. He has blurred the lines between his rap persona and lived reality, which makes it an uncomfortable, but sometimes remarkable listen. He coldly raps about jail and violence as if it’s fate. On “Forgiato,” he aggressively says, “Since a kid, in and out the chains, swear they don’t know my pain/I don’t know who tryin’ to get me at work one night, I ain’t sleep with my shank.” Meanwhile, he’s constantly attempting to push those dark thoughts to the side, usually distracting himself with unhealthy relationships and drug abuse: “You don’t like all these different drugs I’m on,” he coos on “All I Need” to a girlfriend who is fed up with his unpredictable behavior. “But I won’t leave them alone if you leave me alone.” It’s desperate, manipulative, and chilling.
In a way though, Kentrell isn’t that much different from any other YoungBoy project. There’s a blueprint to this and he sticks with it, which also means that it carries the same flaws as his previous work. Once again, the occasionally forgettable production contains too many ’90s R&B ballad pianos and cheap acoustic guitars. It’s not as if these types of beats can’t be done well, but the ones he picks sound like familiar versions of instrumentals done better by other producers. Take “Life Support,” it’s essentially a Zaytoven beat but without any of the improvisation or personality that makes a mixtape like Beast Mode so distinct. The twinkling “Rich Shit” sounds like a Wheezy-type beat in the worst way, and “Level I Want to Reach”’s piano riff is so basic that it’s frustrating. Even if the beats on YoungBoy mixtapes are mostly an afterthought, is it really too much to wish for more inspired choices like “White Teeth,” which has a bounce to the drums that resembles early Mannie Fresh?
As a writer, he has a bad habit of telling us how to feel instead of making us feel it. His emotions come across more genuine through strains in his melody or sudden flurries of howling than when he just says the words “pain” or “hurt.” This occurs when he stops sweetly singing halfway through “My Killa” for a sudden hot-tempered flare up, or in the way he belts, “I’m not on no drugs right now, it’s the truth,” like he’s crying out for help on “Nevada.” These moments elevate his songwriting as well as distinguish him from the wave of Southern rappers sing-rapping about their pain, trauma, and struggle.
Nitpicking about spots where the production or songwriting could be punched up feels trivial when mulling over music this raw and intimate. He’s baring his soul again and again, and here I am, saying that the pianos should be more interesting. (They should be!) This conflict is what has made the popularity of YoungBoy’s music feel so confusing to those who don’t pay him much attention. Though the album’s quality may vary from song to song, it all adds up to a startling glimpse of a larger-than-life figure whose tragic shadow extends over everything he touches.
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YoungBoy Never Broke Again: Sincerely, Kentrell | Review - Pitchfork
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