Aesop Rock: Black Hole Superette

The nice thing about an Aesop Rock album is that you know what you’re gonna get. The man is not, now almost 30 years into a prolific career, going to put out an acoustic guitar record. Or lean into trap. Or whatever the latest hip-hop trend happens to be. No, the dude is gonna spit. Words on words on words. In his almost creaky, yet metallic, voxus maximus. So recognizable he is that even if he did put out a shoegaze math rock album, I would still recognize his voice and his style. It’s that engrained in me. And him.

I’m wondering, though, if I’ve grown old or tired or… maybe he has. Though it’s not as if his music has lost anything per se, but I just don’t get the same charge I used to out of it. Granted the first track, “Secret Knock,” starts off with a bang. Shit just hits. But then it just kind of settles in and the words tumble and the drum beats are cool and even some of the jazz-y touches like on “So Be It” aren’t a negative, but I miss some of the fire. It’s actually the Open Mike Eagle background on that tune that softens it in a way I don’t love (even though I’m typically a fan of Open Mike). But then my brain kind of swims along as the words wash over, until Aesop Rock pulls me back in with a fun hook or a an odd kind of jazzy spoken-word jam like “John Something.” Which is basically a love letter to his childhood viewing of the documentary When We Were Kings. It’s a unique track and one that I will definitely remember just because of how cool it is.

At 18 tracks, in a time where ADHD is high across all of society, I think he did overshoot just a bit. Granted, I know producing this many tracks and not needing to fit them on a cassette or a CD is probably too tempting. As is this very loose concept about late nights at a bodega. Maybe? But at some juncture it’s just too much of the same. And, yes, I get that I don’t have to listen to every track. The magic of the modern era and all. But even my ears can tire from the assault after a bit and need a palate cleanser of some sort. It also exposes Rock’s (or Aesop’s?) limitation in terms of his patter. His flow. Granted, it’s better than just about 100% of the stuff I hear, but there is some definite repetition that is more obvious when you have this many tracks to plow through. Too much of a good thing can still be a not-as-great thing. It is good to hear conscious hip-hop pioneer and backpack rap champion, Lupe Fiasco, make a guest appearance on “Charlie Horse.” Ultimately, it’s another strong entry in Aesop’s discography, but just not as consistently engaging as some in the past. It’s an editing thing. It’s a me getting older thing. It’s a him getting older thing. The world moves on, and so do I.