Murs & 9th Wonder arrive saturated and breathless on their collaborative album number four, even the chemistry they could boast on the third disc seems to be present only in residues in this product.
Ten choices, forty-two minutes, several unknown guests among which Kurupt emerges loudly (and Suga Free deserves an honorable mention). The pen of the LA rapper isn't spinning, Murs is still dealing with women and bravado, and after six years it's a topic that he cannot adequately spice up to serve it as fresh to his listeners. On the production side, the boy from North Carolina is a shadow of himself, unrecognizable, he doesn't guess a sample even by mistake: he tightens or chops in excess and when he lets the beat breathe, it's so scarce that it immediately shows the limits and defects in a clear way.
Over this overly cheap pseudo-soul set, Murs struggles to stay relevant as a rapper and spits bars light-heartedly, effortlessly, with little desire and little energy, without inspiration, every word of him falls flat. When he doesn't write about the opposite sex, the boy struggles, he almost goes into crisis: even when he stays on that subject, inevitably falls as in "Asian Girl", which gives me Hopsin vibes right from the title and which hides a misogynistic side in its attempt to curry favor with girls from another continent (why?), naming all the countries it sees on its globe, except India, Myanmar and inexplicably and sensationally Cambodia, which is left out unlike its neighboring countries.
Released by SMC and distributed by Fontana, the album is a flop. 9th Wonder & Murs are six years away from their peak, in particular the rapper's test is disastrous: there's a feeling that he would lose in a battle versus the guys on his block right now. The only note of merit is the fact that the professional reviewers have rediscovered the existence of the duo, welcoming the project positively. 4/10.
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