POMPEII // UTILITY is a Disappointment

Let’s be clear: I didn’t want to do this. I wanted to be a fan. I wanted to appraise this record, glazing and riding like the most dedicated Cristiano Ronaldo stan. MIKE is one of the greatest rappers ever, a master of probing the interior and actualizing thoughts you didn’t know you felt, and Earl is one of those dudes that’s lived a thousand lifetimes, a former enfant terrible who grew up and became the father of a generation of great underground rappers, ranging from Duwap Kaine and 454 to Mavi and Sideshow. And what does their long awaited collaboration show for it…a dud.

I’ll couch it by saying it’s not bad per se. Well-crafted, at times irresistible raps from the duo. “It’s the horror part of the film / and I wanna get outta the field” shrugs Earl on the highlight “AOK”, a rare hook on the bloated album. But that’s just it, rare. So much of this runtime feels labored, as if a label was pressuring them to make more tracks to pad streaming royalties; and yet they’re independent, so what is the point?

My predilection here is to blame Surf Gang for such stolid beats. It’s the same 808s, the same ambient backing tracks—for such a critical darling where is the invention? MIKE and Earl surely could’ve produced better on their own, they have before. It makes their raps so much less potent, in a way I’ve never felt from them. On all their previous projects I’ve feel inspired, devoted, seen. Here, it’s almost if they’re going through the motions a la major label rappers who just put out a record to count their change. Where is the vision?

I especially feel bad for the features. Anysia Kim gives a solemn, wistful coo to “NOT 4TW”, Niontay brings trademark pomp to “F.E.A.R.”, and Surf Gang associate Lerado Khalil locks into a mesmerizing flow on “Locusts”. Yet MIKE and Earl can’t sustain their own weight. Complaining about mumbling in rapping is so passe but it’s pertinent here, as both deliver rhymes in a labored, almost browned out way. Compare and contrast this with the triumphance of “TOURMALINE” or “Artist of the Century”, and you’ll feel gutted at the sense of inadequacy.

POMPEII // UTILITY, as an uber-MIKE stan, seems destined to linger as a kind of hangnail vestibule of his discography, a “hey that collaboration certainly happened and was not very good” curiosity of a Mount Rushmore-level rapper. But in a way, it’s a bittersweet. We’ve not had such a hyped album by two seminal sweethearts of the music industry be such a letdown in some time now. Am I reaching for a silver lining? Yeah probably.