Each week, we add new music, older tracks, which are known as “Gold adds”, and tracks that might not fit our general format, but still deserve a place in rotation because they serve our mission of showing the depth, breadth, and influence of Black musical expression - These are known as “Variety adds.”

We’re sharing this to get you excited to listen and to open up the floor for feedback and suggestions. If you want to request a song, 

. If you make music and want it considered for rotation, 

 If you want to give feedback directly, reach out to me at jgreen@mpr.org.

It’s Cuffing Season this week on The Message. Tune in to hear some of Sanni’s favorite love songs and more live on The Message from 10 AM to 1 PM Monday through Thursday!

Keep all these tracks in one place with the 

 Spotify playlist. This playlist is updated weekly with all the new adds. When that playlist is cycled with new tracks, the tracks live forever on the 

 playlist. That playlist contains all of the music that we've added since the week of July 11 in chronological order of when it was added. All of the tracks available on Spotify, at least.

“It's a Big up Ting” (Utah Jazz Remix)

“It's a Jazz Thing” (Utah Jazz Remix)

Julian Green built and manages the music library for Carbon Sound and oversees content creation.  


Julian Green

All of the tracks added to rotation on Carbon Sound the week of November 7, 2022.


Natalia Toledo

New on Carbon Sound

Old on Carbon Sound

New Music on Carbon Sound - Week of November 7, 2022

He was the quiet Migo. With Quavo as the frontman and Offset as the wild card, it was Takeoff who laid the foundation upon which the best rap group of a generation was built. He was the youngest of the trio, just 18 when their breakthrough hit "Versace" blew up, but his voice was always the deepest — the baritone of an old bluesman, time-worn beyond his years. Labelmates at Atlanta's Quality Control Music had nicknamed Takeoff "the Silent Killer," frequently lost in his own zone in the studio until it was time to unleash in the booth. He had a thing for the cosmic. His only solo album, 2018's 

, sampled the broadcast of a record-breaking space jump; "I'ma ghost-ride the Wraith, I wanna look at the stars today," he rapped on the song "Casper." From the beginning, he had an air of gravitas. Senseless is the only way to describe his death early Tuesday morning, when he was 

 shot and killed outside a Houston bowling alley 

There would be no Migos without any one of its members — an uncle (Quavo), nephew (Takeoff) and cousin (Offset) who thought of themselves like brothers — but literally speaking, there would be no Migos without Takeoff. Back when Quavo was the high school quarterback and Offset was in and out of trouble in their hometown of Lawrenceville, Ga., a suburb north of Atlanta, it was Takeoff assembling a makeshift studio in the basement of his aunt's house, where all three boys lived: a sock-covered Walmart microphone, a free software program meant for making slideshows. Songs had to be recorded in perfect start-to-finish bursts, which wasn't a problem for Takeoff, hence the name. Later, while Quavo and Offset shopped their demos around Atlanta strip clubs, Takeoff — single-minded, baby-faced, without a fake ID — would be up all night, making songs to play for them when they got home.

It's clearer in hindsight how rare the Migos were. Upon crash-landing a decade ago into the twilight of the digital mixtape era, if not fully formed then pretty damn close, the trio had a sound and style that was fully, immediately its own. The style you can probably picture (

). The sound was where it got interesting, gesturing subtly back toward history (tight triplet flows echoing Bone Thugs or Three 6 Mafia, wordplay noir à la Gucci Mane or Lil Wayne, wisps of crispy late-aughts snap music) and ahead toward a glorious new era in Atlanta. Migos were famous early on for party raps with hooks that functioned like mantras, and compared with the city's more expressionistic fare, the members were sometimes painted as highly efficient but lowbrow mercenaries. Really, they were craftsmen, masters of rhythmic precision. In their own way, they were hip-hop classicists, a reminder of the format's power to elevate language that might not look like much on a page to something joyful, cool, spectacular. To that end, Takeoff, with his endlessly evolving flow, was the Migos' ultimate ambassador.

There was something beautiful in the shyest Migo's slow embrace of the spotlight. Takeoff never seemed much interested in being the guy in the front, but through his pure enjoyment of rapping, he found a reason to endure it and eventually, to own it. He was at his most charismatic and 

 going back and forth with his family, doing what they'd always done. The acclaim met Takeoff where he was; the harder he worked, the sharper his skills — it became impossible not to notice. In knowing his role, he flourished in it: He wasn't Michael Jordan, he was Dennis Rodman. He never needed to be Quavo, who fed off the attention. In embodying his greatness, he never had to step outside himself.

Just before the release of their best album, 2017's 

, I interviewed the Migos in Los Angeles. It was the last week of Barack Obama's presidency, "Bad and Boujee" was the #1 song in the country, and Quavo, Offset and Takeoff could barely sit still, bursting into giddy performances of their own songs every 20 minutes or so. To wrangle them on camera was a bit like herding cats; they'd much rather have entertained each other all day. At one point, I asked what each member of the trio brought to the equation. In their mischievous way, they let me know that was a question they had no interest in answering, instead joining one another in a rowdy chorus of ad-libs that led into another unplugged rendition of their No. 1 hit — a perfect response. But the Migos did have their own unique roles: Quavo floated out wavy auto-tuned melodies; Offset cut through beats like an adventurer with a machete. As for Takeoff, he was the group's gravitational force — he could hold it down for his partners, grounding their punchlines with blustery ad-libs, or he could flip a song on its head at will. In the typical arrangement of a Migos song, the Takeoff verse went last, for obvious reasons. In a 2018 radio interview, Quavo conceded the title of "best rapper in the group," handing it off to his three-years-younger nephew. "[Takeoff] just masterminded his craft," the leader admitted in awe. 

Two songs stand out as turning points in Migos' decade-long career; Takeoff helmed both of them. In the lull after their gate-crashing 

 mixtape (the definitive rap tape of 2013, straight down to the Trinidad James and Riff Raff features), some wrote the group off as a passing trend. Then came 2014's "Fight Night." Lots of songs at the time had a similarly springy West Coast beat, but nothing sounded half as dynamic as Takeoff did exploding into the hook — his authority was arresting. ("Broke n***** stand to the LEFT!") The performance felt like catharsis but was secretly about control, each inflection optimized for impact. "Fight Night" became the trio's biggest hit to that point; it felt like they'd broken free of a formula, arriving on the threshold of something bigger.

With 2016's "Bad and Boujee" (ironically, a 

, hence the famous lack of a verse from Takeoff) the trio proved its staying power — but it was "T-Shirt," 

's second single, that cemented its greatness. By no coincidence, it was another Takeoff showcase, a minute-long masterclass in rhythmic command. It feels practically pointless to type out the lyrics — "Young n**** poppin' with a pocket full of cottage / Whoa, kemosabe, chopper aiming at your noggin" — which are nothing compared to the way Takeoff says them, his voice its own percussion section and bass line. In a 

 Oscar-worthy, Takeoff's round face peeks out from beneath a bear pelt, iced in gold and diamonds in the tundra. They'd never been cooler.

It's possible to spend all day in a rabbit hole of great Takeoff moments. (I recommend it.) There's "

," a solid choice for best Takeoff verse ever, where he switches up his flow more times than I care to count, or the time he stole the show in a 2021 

, cracking up Offset by raising a double cup as he coolly spits, "They talking 'bout COVID — when I heard the news, I started sipping the remedy." He rapped on his solo album about his visceral early stage fright, but as his shyness dissipated, you realized he was funny, with a dry wit he'd 

Nothing captures the Takeoff experience better than the time in 2015 when he and Quavo performed some of their hits with a small 

, holding down the fort while Offset was locked up — a piece of content with great potential for corniness, which nevertheless still moves me. This was unfamiliar territory for the pair; you can almost sense some nerves. But Takeoff grounds the performance with quiet confidence, hyping his uncle with battle-cry ad-libs, keeping the whole thing in motion. And then — you can see it — he starts having fun, a smile building at the corners of his mouth as he meets the camera's gaze.   

{"type":"doc","content":[{"type":"paragraph","content":[{"text":"","type":"text"}]}]}

Meaghan Garvey

The rapper, with his endlessly evolving flow, was the Migos' ultimate ambassador. He was at his most charismatic and comfortable going back and forth with his family.


Rich Fury/Getty Images

Rich Fury/Getty Images for Global Citizen

Migos - Versace (Official Video)

Migos - Fight Night (Official Music Video)

Takeoff knew who he was

Tosin Faseemo

With their punchy deliveries and consistent engagement with the crowd, Flo Milli and Monaleo showed their full, charismatic selves to Minnesota.


Awa Mally

Flo Milli and Monaleo Empower the Crowd at the Amsterdam

NEW YORK (AP) — The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this year will induct Eminem, Dolly Parton, Lionel Richie, Carly Simon and two guys in sunglasses who have scored more No. 1s on the Billboard Hot 100 than all of those other acts combined.

Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis are the rare songwriting and producing team to get into the prestigious hall, and they hope it will lead to more artists like them being inducted.

“Songwriters are like farmers,” said Jam. “When you go to a nice restaurant, the chef is like the artist and you thank him for the meal. But where did he get the food from? Without the farmer, he doesn’t have any food to cook. And that’s the way songwriters are to me.”

The duo’s chart-topping pop hits include Janet Jackson’s “When I Think of You;” Mariah Carey’s “Thank God I Found You;” George Michael’s “Monkey;” Boyz II Men’s “On Bended Knee;” Janet and Michael Jackson’s “Scream;” and Mary J. Blige’s “No More Drama.” They have five Grammys and went into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2017.

“I don’t know if you could ever recognize songwriters enough. I mean, they are the fuel that fuels everything,” said Lewis. “There are great songwriters out there that never get the shine that they deserve.”

One song in particular might typify the Jam and Lewis range — 

 which combines a folk sample from Joni Mitchell, the hip-hop of Q-Tip and Janet Jackson’s R&B voice. “We’re kind of at a crossroads or an intersection of a lot of different music,” said Jam.

Janet Jackson - Got 'Til It's Gone (Official Music Video)

Jam and Lewis started out in competing bands and became part of Prince’s band, The Time, in Minneapolis. After parting ways with The Purple One, the duo established a recording studio and production company. Their collaboration with Janet Jackson on her monster albums “Control” and “Rhythm Nation 1814” solidified them as hitmakers.

The Rock Hall on Saturday will also induct Eurythmics, Duran Duran, Judas Priest, Harry Belafonte, Elizabeth Cotten and Pat Benatar. Jam anticipated that one act closely associated with the duo would be the one who inducts them but didn’t go into specifics, raising speculation that it will be Janet Jackson.

They credit music executive Clarence Avant and an earlier songwriting powerhouse duo, Gamble & Huff, for showing the way forward. They hope to do the same with their induction: “It’s wonderful and hopefully shines a spotlight on other people like us who do what we do that are deserving.”

They grew up listening to different genres. Jam was a pop fan, soaking in Seals and Crofts, America and Chicago. Lewis leaned more toward Parliament-Funkadelic and Earth, Wind & Fire. “Terry liked the funky bottom. I like the pretty top,” said Jam. You can hear that combo throughout their career, starting with their first hit, 

S.O.S. Band’s “Just Be Good to Me.”

They’re responsible for more than 50 Billboard No. 1 songs on the pop, R&B and dance charts for everyone from Rod Stewart and Sting to Patti LaBelle. They tailor the song to the artist and choose for themselves a non-nonsense wardrobe of black suits and sunglasses. Next year, they celebrate their partnership hitting its 50th anniversary.

“We’re kind of at a point of our careers where we don’t have anything to prove, but we still have a lot to say,” said Jam. “We just want to leave music in a better place, whether it’s through technology, whether it’s through the songs we make, whether it’s the people we influence that are making music now.”

Turn on the radio and you will likely immediately hear the influence of Jam and Lewis. Famed Swedish producer Max Martin channeled the duo while crafting hits for Britney Spears, the Backstreet Boys and NSYNC. Charlie Puth is a fan, and 

Bruno Mars gave the pair a shout-out on the Grammy stage for paving the way when he won album of the year for “24K Magic.”

Sounds Of Blackness & More Pay Tribute To Legend’s Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis | Soul Train Awards ‘19

One thing Jam and Lewis would like to see change is more recognition for the folks behind the tunes. Lewis worries that music today is often seen like a utility, a faceless service like water or electricity that’s taken for granted. Jam misses the days when a record sleeve included tons of information about the music makers, like the name of the engineer and mixer.

“The reason we’re writers and producers now is because we could look at records back in the day and instantly see who produced it and who wrote it,” said Jam.

These days, it’s hard to find credits on streaming sites and the duo think that’s a problem. “What it does is it devalues the music because it communicates the idea that music just comes out of nowhere. It doesn’t come out of nowhere. There’s people in this,” Jam said.

After decades of making music for other people, Jam and Lewis last year made their debut album as artists, 

 featuring Babyface, Toni Braxton and Mariah Carey. They plan on more such albums and hope to perform live next year, too.

The goal then — as it always has been for these men who push the sonic envelope — is to build a musical bridge in this time of divisions.

“It’s all about taking people — young, old, white, Black, straight, gay, Democrat or Republican, whatever — and for the time we’re on stage, bring all of them together,” said Jam. “If you could do that, that to me is the magic of music.”

The Associated Press

Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis are the rare songwriting and producing team to get into the prestigious hall, and they hope it will lead to more artists like them being inducted. 


Two men in sunglasses and hats pose at a music mix board..

Photo by Matt Licari/Invision/AP File

The Rock Hall of Fame opens to Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis

Joely Kelzer

There was dancing, and bobbing around, but it was hard to take your eyes off the musicians’ hands. 


Nicholas Nicome

DOMi & JD BECK show their skills at the Cedar Cultural Center

 report that Takeoff, one-third of Migos, was shot and killed in Houston, Texas.

According to TMZ, Takeoff and Quavo were playing dice when an altercation broke out and someone opened fire, shooting Takeoff. He was pronounced dead at the scene.

 reported that officers initially said they would not be releasing the victim’s identity until his family was notified and his identification was verified by the Harris County Institute of Forensic Sciences. Police did confirm the victim is a Black male in his 20′s. A representative for the group confirmed the victim was Takeoff.

Takeoff, who's real name is Kirsnik Khari Ball, was the youngest member of Migos. Quavo was his uncle, and Offset his cousin. He was 28 years old.

Migos are known for their hits like “Versace,” “Bad and Boujee,” and “Stir Fry.” Takeoff released his only solo project, 

, in 2018 and had recently released his collaboration with fellow Migos member Quavo, 

, under the name Unc & Phew in October of 2022.

The music video for “Messy” had just released on Monday afternoon.

This is a developing story. We will add more details as they are available.

The Migos rapper was shot and killed in Houston on Tuesday.


Rich Fury

Quavo & Takeoff -"Messy" (Official Video)

Takeoff Shot and Killed at 28

Derrick Gichaba

Check out Derrick Gichaba’s photos from last week’s show.


Miloe, Ricki Monique, and Riotgrrrldarko at Fine Line

Tune in to hear Sanni B. live on The Message from 10 AM to 1 PM Monday through Thursday!

“Tell Me When To Go” feat. Keak Da Sneak

“Where My Girls At?” (Honey Dijon Remix)

All of the tracks added to rotation on Carbon Sound the week of October 31, 2022.


New Music on Carbon Sound - Week of October 31, 2022

The Heat Check playlist is your source for new music from around the worlds of hip-hop and R&B with an emphasis on bubbling, undiscovered and under-the-radar acts. Who's got the hot hand? Who's on a run? It's a menagerie of notable songs curated by enthusiasts from around NPR Music.

In this week's Heat Check selects, prodigies past and present connect with OGs and friends, rappers stretch the limits of genre, and young artists breathe new life into a few unmistakable samples. Elsewhere, Griselda's first lady stakes her claim, a rising Afropop crooner finds his niche, a tired Toronto singer takes on wastemen and more. Stream the playlist 

redveil, "pg baby" (Remix) (ft. Denzel Curry)

Earlier this year, the Maryland rapper redveil emerged as a prodigious talent learning on the fly with his third self-released album, 

. Shared on his 18th birthday, part of its charm is that it feels like a bona fide album, its songs gelled together by a singular purpose, but one track in particular seemed to epitomize the album's vision and the artist's style: "pg baby," a soulful cut that laces a throwback R&B sample with carefully defined melodic raps. The song is a boyish striver's theme for keeping it pushing despite missteps because you're always representing everyone back home. But hidden somewhere within his woozy flows was a surprising world-weariness. 

redveil taps Denzel Curry for the remix, and his young OG, a rare 27-year-old elder statesman, understood the assignment. Curry knows a thing or two about being a rising teenager (he debuted in Raider Klan at 17) and thinking about home and its influence (His 2019 album, 

, was an homage to Miami Gardens), and he adds a verse that is reflective and provincial, performed with his madcap fervor: "With all the locals, fist fights had us falling out with each other / It's silly 'cause they my niggas but really, they are my brothers / In turn, they all made me tougher but rougher around the edges / But most importantly, see what's greater over the hedges," he raps, drawing a direct line between his hometown growing pains and a globetrotter payoff. — Sheldon Pearce

Armani Caesar is likely the best rapper in the Griselda stable, and on her new album, 

, it feels like she is making her case with each aggressive push into the foreground. Nowhere is this more evident than on "Ice Age," a pure display of strength and skill. "I'm on a roll while they stallin' out / I'm with the s**ts, and they know I'm that b***h / I can stand next to the hardest out, f**k is you talkin' 'bout?" she raps, sounding annoyed she even has to 

 it. The crystalline, Denny Laflare-produced beat sounds like someone attempting to play a chandelier like a xylophone, which is fitting given Caesar's overarching message: Elegance is something you embody at all times. — Sheldon Pearce 

On the three-track sampler Luhvit<3, Maurice II (known previously as Jon Bap) negotiates aesthetics in Dilla time. What results is a compelling and dizzying blend of rock, free jazz, computerized neo soul and (seriously) much, much more. After two more meandering cuts, the EP reaches its climax with "izzitwurkinfoya," an up-tempo shift that is more consistent, carrying pan-flute-like hits throughout its sparser, guitar-driven instrumentation. The song poses a rhetorical question that scans as a double entendre. Stay with me. Maurice II asks listeners if defying their gut instinct is setting them up for success. I don't know you but I'm sure it isn't. More broadly, he asks if this thing he's trying out is working. I'm pretty sure it is. — Gabby Bulgarelli

The Toronto singer-songwriter Chxrry22 is signed to the Weeknd's XO label, which is ironic because on "Wasteland," from her new EP, 

, it feels like she's venting about the character he often portrays in his songs. "Such a fuckin' wasteman / In a city full of wastemen / You treat me like I'm basic," she sings. He doesn't want her until he sees her doing better without him. Now he's back to ruin her life again. Guys like the Weeknd and Brent Faiyaz (who released an album earlier this year called 

with a lyric that feels particularly applicable here: "If I die, I'm haunting you"), have made entire careers off toxicity, playing the philanderer circling back. Here, Chxrry22 calls one out, her voice feathery but assertive when she sets the stakes: "I need a love, deep as the ocean / Pull me to shore / Show me devotion." — Sheldon Pearce 

There are many bustling rap scenes in Florida, but the singsong Orlando rapper Tyla Yaweh has existed a world apart from them sonically and aesthetically, skewing instead toward rock-inflected pop rap. It is now cliché to use rockstar as a euphemism for a certain kind of rap celebrity, and Yaweh has leaned into that iconography since he surfaced on SoundCloud in 2019, releasing a song called "Tommy Lee" and collaborating with one-man Nirvana cover band Post Malone (who also discovered him). "Sex Symbol" continues this obsession, and though it doesn't do anything particularly novel with the trope, it does push his sound into a more interesting direction. Songs like his breakthrough single, "Gemini," albeit earwormy, felt nearly weightless. These vocals are heavy and distorted, and he almost sounds like a fusion-dance product of Travis Scott and Lil Uzi Vert. As with much of Scott's work, the focus isn't on the lyrics, which are uninspired, but the crunch of the distortion itself. — Sheldon Pearce

Listening to Jim Legxacy's "dj," I'm reminded of how artists like XXXTentacion and Lil Peep would unlock new sides of hip-hop — and themselves — by wailing in the cadences of emo. Jim does something more contemporary here, singing of an old flame by narrowing into a specific detail, his voice faint and fluttery: "You used to promise me you'd teach me how to DJ." He sounds genuinely broken over that somber guitar riff, but when the drums and bassline erupt, you're immersed in the loose, communal vibes of drill and Afrobeats. It's the most unexpected concoction, but it feels more alive than anything I've heard in a while. — Mano Sundaresan

As Afropop's innovators worked to legitimize the form by carefully defining its parameters, a host of young stars have been operating in the fringes and breaking those established rules. Among these artists is the Nigerian teenager Azanti, who makes mellow, R&B-infused songs that aren't unlike those by slightly older mavericks Fireboy DML and CKay. His voice isn't quite the same formidable instrument, but he has a way of soft blending his vocals into his production to soothing effect. His new song, "late4dinner," is a perfect is example of this; as his reverbed singing gives off a gentle hum, it's almost as if it gets swept up into the current of a laid-back groove. — Sheldon Pearce

The Chicago singer, producer, and DJ Babydoll recently released an EP called 

 that is full of sweet songs of doomed romance, but no song feels more in touch with sense memory than "My Faults." It seems to linger in the emotions of the song it samples, Duffy's "Hanging On Too Long," stirring with hushed guitars and Duffy's own vocals ("It was just my false hope thinking we'd last," she sings in the distance.) Babydoll's bittersweet verses are layered on top, creating a sublime collage of two separate experiences of lost love. — Sheldon Pearce 

"One More Chance," a track from Wiki and Subjxct 5's new mixtape, 

, presents Wiki and the rapper-producer Navy Blue as not only collaborators, but as admiring friends. On the song, the two New York-based artists engage in a playful back and forth, trading compliments over a dreamy, lo-fi beat, which periodically builds to a looped choir adamantly chanting "one! more! chance!" It's the first collaboration between the two since Wiki put the production of his 2021 album, 

, entirely in Navy Blue's hands. "Patrick Morales I love you / I see you as a brother plus you taught me what morale is," Navy Blue praises. "Navy Blue was born under the fullness of the moon," Wiki hits back. It's nothing but a sweet declaration of respect and love. — Teresa Xie


The New York rapper Maiya the Don is in the midst of a viral moment with "TELFY," an ode to self-worth disguised as influencer marketing for a designer bag. Being in one's bag is a shorthand for being in a space so comfortable it inspires success, and here the bag in question is represented by a literal Telfar bag, only further reinforcing her status. Despite the usual rap showboating —her Range Rover isn't rented, she's dripped down in Prada wearing shoes by Giuseppe — the whole point of "TELFY" is that even without the brands, she'd still be that girl, an unstoppable force for cool. "This dress looks good 'cause I'm in it," she snaps. The song allows the prominent sample of Sisqo's "Thong Song" to do much of the work, affixing bigger rap drums to its base yet leaving it otherwise uncut and unadorned. But its energy is really powered by Maiya's swaggering, self-assured performance. As she rumbles through the verses, she is putting everyone in her line of sight on notice. — Sheldon Pearce


Sheldon Pearce

Gabby Bulgarelli

Mano Sundaresan

Teresa Xie

In this week's Heat Check selects, prodigies past and present connect with OGs and friends, rappers stretch the limits of genre, young artists breathe new life into unmistakable samples and more.


Ethan Kwon

redveil & Denzel Curry - pg baby (Remix) [Official Video]

Armani Caesar - Ice Age (Official Audio)

Chxrry22 - Wasteland (Official Audio)

Tyla Yaweh - Sex Symbol (Official Music Video)

Jim Legxacy - dj

late4dinner

Maiya The Don - Telfy (Official Video)

Heat Check Roundup: redveil, Armani Caesar, Wiki and more

, the 23-year-old Charlotte rapper MAVI seeks the strength to sustain. His raps pull salvation from Black spiritual traditions to offset the pernicious influence of fame. "Hope when I get into heaven God hand me a blunt / And it's some Runtz," he raps on "Reason!" later adding, "It's legal for corporal punishment if God your teacher," assigning purpose to the pain. Black folklore has a long history of meeting grief with a prayer and a smile instead of running from it, and MAVI embodies that. His album channels the folktale of High John the Conqueror, known as a symbol of the indomitable Black spirit for his ability to laugh through the biting harshness of chattel slavery and outmaneuver white masters. Second albums are often albums of scale and reflection, and here MAVI realizes that money and notoriety can't solve his problems, forcing him to reckon with them. Listeners are made privy to a transformation in progress, an artist saving himself from the depths of a darkness that we see but that he doesn't let us touch.

, coincided with the pandemic. That record now feels representative of the rapper's younger and brighter self. He planned to release another album, 

, in late 2021, but decided to shelve it. There is a kind of blessing in getting this project instead, one that feels well ahead of schedule in his artistic and emotional development. His debut was boisterous and raw, making apparent his political alignment but at the expense of personal transparency and lucidity. He is clearer in thought and intention on this record, more open and vulnerable, letting his observations guide his insights. This time the politics of Black liberation are more deeply rooted in his exploration of self.  

The album reads as a psalms of laughter, pain and introspection. It follows an artist enduring losses, spoken and unspoken. In facing solitude with a clear head ("Finally sober and it's just another layer of lonely," he raps on "Chinese Finger Trap"), MAVI lands us on a truth — he made it through, not by resilience alone, but through community care. He raps lovingly of his mom, relies on the support of his brothers, and yearns for the centering influence of friendship. He raps of his late grandmother as a lingering presence, her blessings staying with him. This all speaks to an idea at the core of the record: that real bonds are unbreakable. "But, love from fragments automatic / just Sumter magic," he raps on "High John," making clear that he arrives at this moment with his family legacy in tow. Noting his origins, MAVI places his magic, lyrical or otherwise, in proximity to his pedigree. This nod to the small town that produced his family line demonstrates how ancestry informs his ideas of connection.

Connection is something MAVI is markedly pursuing, and a romantic streak cuts through the entire album. His conversational songs about coming up short in relationships seem to induce epiphanies of self-reflection. "Still feel like a fuck up, away from rich or broke again / But money coming back quicker the easier I let go of it," he raps on "My Good Ghosts." "Wanted to yell, now these days, don't want no one to know I'm here." "3 Left Feet," brings us an older and wiser yet unsure and deeply questioning partner whose self-awareness keeps penetrating his own wishful thinking. "I want you back, but I can't give you the years," he raps. It's clear that he has devoted himself to rap, for better and worse, to take care of those he loves even if it separates him from them. But the conviction in his verses seems to indicate a worthy trade-off. "I been gave my soul away to the drum, I'ma live forever," he says on "Baking Soda."

In "High John de Conquer," a piece by Zora Neale Hurston reported for 

 in 1943, she wrote that High John's "singing-symbol was a drum-beat [...] sure to be heard when and where the work was the hardest, and the lot the most cruel. It helped the slaves endure. They knew that something better was coming." The patter of drums is also a signifier of brighter prospects in these songs. Dylvinci and Wolf Morpheus produced half of the album, with spot help from Jacob Rochester, Monte Booker and longtime collaborator ovrkast. Together, they help bring MAVI into a more expressive space. The beats are still assembled upon undergirded low-tempo production, but the album pushes past any lo-fi distinction MAVI may have inherited from collaborators like Earl Sweatshirt and MIKE. Nothing here sounds muddled or unclear, many tracks are bolstered by knocking drums and elegant backing vocals. MAVI knows how to move along the bends, and with sharpened writing he's more plainspoken. 

The album is not presented chronologically, but it takes time seriously, particularly the turning points in MAVI's maturation. While on his first tour with Jack Harlow, he got into a 

. The journey brought not only a brush with death but left the artist face-to-face with the wide-ranging toxicity of anti-Blackness in all of its forms: "On tour wowed by the scenery and what it mean to be a second-class citizen / See why they wrote the Green Book," he raps on "Last Laugh." The tour was a proving ground for MAVI, who refined his presence and honed his sense of discipline, and the accident began a string of losses the rapper ponders across the record — the death of his uncle, losing the will to pursue his degree. He grapples with all of this without sacrificing his rapping's rhetorical power. 

 takes accidental steps toward unraveling some of the mythology around MAVI, a crowned lo-fi rap prince. He very clearly channels his insecurities as a performer, lover and friend. He spends much of the album thinking out loud, working through the burdens of small-time celebrity. What remains is something more human. Even in the High John folktales, the Old Massa figure often came out on top. "The curious thing about this is, that there are no bitter tragic tales at all," Neale Hurston wrote. There was always laughter, win or lose — as she put it, "a sort of recognition that life is not one-sided." It's that experience MAVI seems to gain throughout this coming-of-age saga: "Found out welts make wit," he shares to open "Last Laugh," inadvertently showing the cost of his own acuity and humor.  

Clarissa Brooks

The Charlotte rapper's new album, Laughing so Hard, it Hurts, is more direct in thought and intention than his debut, more open and vulnerable, letting his observations guide his insights.


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