How many times have we heard “Buck, buck, buck, buck booyakasha!” lurking in the background, or foreground, of Logic’s albums? The iconic sample of KRS-One’s “Mad Crew” has been a mainstay in Logic’s compositions for the last six years, dating back to “925” on 2013s Young Sinatra: Welcome to Forever.
The reemergence of that sample on the fifth track of Logic’s most recent offering, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, is a confession in itself, owning up to the repetitive and cyclical nature of his album releases. Having successfully divided himself into “Album Logic” and “Mixtape Logic,” the Maryland rapper has established himself as a mere caricature drawn in the image of his musical contemporaries.
Logic has worn his influences on his sleeve for the better part of his career. His debut studio album, Under Pressure, was met with comparisons to Kendrick Lamar’s Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City, while his 2015 follow-up, The Incredible True Story, was likened to the grand orchestrations of Kanye West. With each passing year, Logic has entangled himself further in his web of inspirations, unraveling only long enough to portray himself as a caricature.
Thus, Confessions isn’t a Logic album. It’s an Eminem album, or an Outkast album, or a YG or J. Cole or Childish Gambino album (he name drops all of these artists, and more!). Logic interjects in the 16-track outing long enough to remind listeners of his biracial genitalia or to drop some fortune cookie piece of self help knowledge—really, ever since he took a stand in support of mental health on “1-800-273-8255” Logic has been at the forefront of his own suicide awareness campaign—but is otherwise mute on the nearly hour-long album.
“‘Bobby, Bobby, Bobby you so busy, so shameless,’” Logic raps on “Still Ballin.” And it’s true, Confessions comes about six weeks after Logic release a novel, Supermarket, and its accompanying album. Despite keeping busy, Logic’s album has nothing to show for his active lifestyle. He’d rather read off Twitter mentions from his haters (he does this on the album’s eponymous intro track).
The album is satirical in the sense that everybody should know that Logic isn’t glorifying drugs or sex or guns, but the lack of substantive lyrics suggest the opposite. While Confessions is sonically interesting—the album bounces between modern, bass heavy cuts and more reflective, sample friendly grooves—its lacking narrative leaves Logic to jump from track to track without any concrete ideas. He tries to assuage those concerns by incorporating his oft-referenced father throughout the project, though Dad’s constant retelling of Logic’s origins (See: his loins) do little to repair this circus of an album.
Logic deserves a vacation. After serving up five studio albums in as many years, not to mention two mixtapes and a soundtrack, he’s drifted away from even trying to illustrate big ideas as he attempted between Under Pressure, The Incredible True Story, and Everybody. It’s time he unplugged, turned off and copped out, at least long enough to figure out who Bobby really is.