Yeat is back. Seven months after the energetic A Dangerous Summer, the California native returns with ADL. Shortened from the phrases “A Dangerous Lyfe” and “A Dangerous Love,” ADL sees Yeat pushing himself into new places artistically after two years of teasing its release. ADL is a tale of two Yeats: the one that links up with Don Toliver and BNYX, and the one that sings and collaborates with Elton John and Kylie Jenner. Of course, there is much in this double album that will satisfy his long-time fans but what new is there for the uninitiated?
In a recent interview with the revered Zane Lowe, a rare for the typically tight-lipped artist, Yeat confesses finding his previous music to be low effort: “slop” to be precise. The sentiment comes from a newfound focus on his health and journey with sobriety as well as a new style of production. A known workaholic, Yeat would release music all the time (15 albums, EPs, and mixtapes at the time of our last Yeat update but what we did not know was he wasn’t in the habit of editing his work—let alone saving old songs. He said it was the embarrassment of being asked by Drake’s crew to send over files and admitting that he couldn’t which pushed him to update his methods. Now, he saves his work and even returns later to edit songs. Defending his previous method, Zane Lowe assumed it was simply an act of capturing a moment, but calling the end result slop, after being candid about his drug abuse, goes to show that Yeat is not proud of how he got to where he is now. While possibly unintentional, he retreads similar sentiment from Post Malone years ago before Post’s pivot away from hip-hop as his primary genre.
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The interview is important in framing his approach to the album. Yeat was uncharacteristically open about his upbringing and revealing his desire to bring more “realness” to his music, delineating this album as more substantial than “slop.” ADL does see attempts to bring forth introspection, more-so in the second disc than the first. “Went Wrong” with the genre-blurring 070 Shake is a good example, with Yeat crooning about a love that went south. Moments later, “My Time” with Swizz Beats offers a lively soundscape but somber lyrics glorifying drug use. A catchy and intentional source of dissonance, these two are highlights on the album. The penultimate track invites recent collaborator Joji onto the track-list with “Back Home” to reflect on the two’s avoidant-attachment styles (can’t believe I just wrote that). The atmospheric, cerebral production is a standout moment on the album but the lyrics fail the music, with a single verse from each each artist and a repetitive hook from the lead. The album closer “Up From Here” contains a line where Yeat states that he is “the only one out of his generation changing music” though, yes he is changing up visual aesthetic regularly, there are enough elements of his established musical style present in the twenty other tracks on the album that build an argument that he hasn’t cooked up something fresh at all.
All over the album, there are moments where Yeat promises to explore something new but fails to meet expectations or simply presents something we’ve heard before. “Face the Flame” is a song that begins with a vocal section from Grimes that would not go out of place on Yeat’s future-looking album 2093, before returning to the hedonism Yeat has taught us to expect from him—bells and all. Youngboy Never Broke Again is also featured on the track and maintains the energy. Somehow, Elton John makes an appearance on the next song “Lose Control.” Again, a singer opens the song, before Yeat takes over and sings, getting his emotions across effectively, but seriously lacking the vocal control to inspire repeat listens. For longtime fans, the fourth track “Griddlë” with Don Toliver could not come soon enough. Filled with silly lyrics like “Ima serve you lil bitch, Ima call you McGriddle” and “I mix OJ with that kush”, it is a reminder of who Yeat has built himself up to be and really it is the production from frequent collaborator BNYX that saves the track. It ekes out a head-bobbing energy from the vocalists that has been missed thus far. Strangely, BNYX returns for the next track “What I Want” but doesn’t produce something of note. Yeat’s lyrics and performance are just as nondescript. What becomes clear as the tracks fly by is a mismatch between intention and execution. Two-part thematic, contrasting, double-albums are nothing new to rap in the 2020s but it is hard to find an underlying theme here. If Yeat was intending to construct a narrative of wanting to break new ground but failing to break free from his old vices, there has to be a clearer lyrical and sonic journey.
Track nine, “Let King Tonka Talk,” features King Kylie—yes, that Kylie—and it sums up the album perfectly. Yeat raps about the club and the women who frequent it, who are quick to jump to long-term relationships but Yeat is having nothing of it. So many sex-obsessed lyrics follow before Yeat likens a woman with a “brand new BBL” to Kylie Jenner. Then, summoned by he who “feels like a god,” King Kylie herself shows up for a few lines that amount to “they could never.” How much she could have given us, we will never know because there was barely an idea present for her to work with. And so Yeat continues on, continuing to give lyrics that cannot be copied onto this website, and continuing to bark up the same tree he always has.
