By: Joshua Atlas
Is it okay to be disappointed by an album when you know it’s great? It’s a question I frequently ask when my old favorites drop these days. Those stars I idolized in high school used to shine so brightly, but when I look into the sky these days, they just don’t catch my eye. It doesn’t mean it’s bad. Maybe I’ve grown. Maybe they’ve grown. The prime example for me is Earl Sweatshirt, an artist I treated like a god in my youth, but as an adult, I tend to shy away from his alter.
When I was 16, his third album, Some Rap Songs, was released a couple of days after my birthday. I wanted to be different and found a lot of pride in music that was not super digestible. My brother introduced me to Earl some months prior with his most popular song, “Chum”. His emo lyrics and deadpan delivery sucked in a young me. I probably thought it was the realest thing I had ever heard. Some Rap Songs easily became one of my favorite albums. Its short run time made it very replayable (It’s my most replayed album of all time). The hazy beats constructed by haunted samples were unlike anything I had heard in hip-hop. I still know every word to most of these songs. It’s easy since they’re all so short. I siphoned the life out of every minute and craved more. I was lucky enough that Earl would drop an EP, Feet of Clay, in 2019. Earl usually released music every 3 years, so I was more than hyped. It dropped, and I liked it and all, but it wasn’t the revolution that I was hoping for. “East” was a funny song with that stupid accordion sample and a complete lack of any type of emotion in Earl’s voice, but where was the deep spiritual moment of “Azucar” like on Some Rap Songs?
It’s 2024 now, and with each Earl release, I’ve become a little further of a fan of his music and more of a fan of the man himself. Earl’s music no longer focuses as much as it once did on his anxiety and depression. It’s more introspective and paints the truth that he’s found peace in his life. I look up to Earl in a different way than I did when I was a teen, and as a fan, I’m happy that throughout his struggles, he seems to have found happiness in his daily life. He drops a lot these days, and it’s all quality stuff. I just can’t seem to find enjoyment out of it. His wordplay and beats are as tight as ever, but something about it bores me, and I can’t put my finger on it. If anything has brought me back to his music, it’s when he switches it up, like on 2023’s “Making the Band” produced by Evilgiane of SURF GANG or his feature on Jean Dawson’s “Bad Fruit*”.
Earl isn’t the only artist I’ve felt this way about. Coincidentally, his Odd Future companion, Tyler The Creator, is probably the other most significant artist I think of in a similar manner. To be fair, I loved a good chunk of 2024’s Chromakopia, but some songs sound so similar to his past work that I could not care less about them. The quality of both their recent drops is great, but something about it doesn’t click. Honestly, this has made me pretty sad. A sense of dread overtakes me when the artists I used to love just don’t do it for me anymore. I think the truth in all of this is that time is changing, and my ears don’t hear like they once did.
In the same way that Earl has matured, so have I. When I look across the vast playlist that encompasses every album I have downloaded onto my phone, one thing is certain. Several artists sparked that same feeling since Some Rap Songs dropped in 2018. Although I may feel guilty sometimes for not enjoying an artist that used to mean the world to me, I will always respect what they meant at the moment and look forward to a world where music continues to shock me.
