[CW: This article makes mention of domestic abuse.]
After years of anticipation, false promises and leaks, Playboi Carti dropped “MUSIC” on March 14, 2025. Despite a star-studded cast and intense preparation time, the album’s 30-song tracklist is all over the place, containing a variety of memorable peaks, veritable lows and bland filler.
Prior to “MUSIC,” Carti’s recordings and persona have been era-defining facets of 21st century hip-hop, a backdrop essential to unpacking his newest record. Carti’s debut album “Die Lit” followed the stylistic success of his 2017 self-titled mixtape, culminating in a sound that was equal parts ethereal and energetic. The initially divisive follow-up LP “Whole Lotta Red” has retrospectively been admired as a watershed moment, influencing a variety of underground acts that have since enjoyed mainstream success. Rappers like Destroy Lonely and Ken Carson, for instance, joined Opium, a label and rap collective created by Carti.
“Whole Lotta Red” was nothing short of declaratively ambitious and eclectic, despite my unwavering preference for its predecessors. The vampiric, gothic visual stylings and musical content firmly cemented the artistic iconography of Carti’s past half-decade. Hordes of Zoomer fans turned him into an emblem of teenage culture and 20-somethings’ arrested development. Rage, a subgenre that first received widespread attention through this LP, has since become one of the most recognizable rap sounds of the 2020s. Deliriously rapping about drugs and sex over repetitive, bass-heavy beats, Carti was exactly what he claimed to be invoking for years: a rockstar. “Opium,” in reference to the label, became shorthand for the subculture he seemingly inaugurated overnight. The “King Vamp” had rightfully crowned himself.
Even if mimicking a rocker’s ethos comes across as outmoded in some respects, Carti’s popular presence and musical legacy felt uniquely definitive. He was ostensibly doing something that mattered between 2017 and 2020, in spite of—or owing to—its overt crassness. I, for one, was hooked.
The consistency of “MUSIC” approaches “Whole Lotta Red,” but ultimately falls short of the latter’s bar. Otherwise, the album is less noteworthy in its vision, veering into uncharacteristically uninspired territory even when Carti tries on styles newer to himself. Mostly solid, but infrequently special.
The lingering disappointment perhaps owes to the opening track being the record’s most fascinating work. “POP OUT” is driven by a punctuated beat and mechanistic, grinding synths that drill through one’s headphones. The melodicism of past Carti songs holds on by a thread, but is mostly washed away in a flood of intensely discordant, enveloping sound. As with his best previous work, a memorably simplistic hook drives the track’s unyielding momentum. “CRUSH” follows through with a choral backing that is welcomed but unusually bombastic for Carti; unfortunately though, the initial adrenaline rush of “POP OUT” is never quite matched.
“COCAINE NOSE” gets close to this peak with its heavy, guitar sample-based instrumental, even if it is not as fresh in approach, resembling other tracks coming from Opium. Carti is often at his best when he revisits his past staples. For instance, “OPM BABI” fittingly rehashes the “baby voice” above skittering percussion, Swamp Izzo’s ever-present DJ tag and a buried vocal loop. The 808s overwhelm the restless combination in an enticing fashion, offering the overboard fun associated with some of Carti’s best work. Still, while newness is somewhat present, it never quite feels comprehensive.
Elsewhere, prominent inspiration shines through. Carti consistently channels the disaffected, casually-cool vocal style of fellow Atlanta native Future, especially pronounced on “KPOP,” “EVIL J0RDAN” and “DIS 1 GOT IT,” three solid tracks which are all enjoyably moody. Future himself features on “TRIM” and “CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE,” the first being notably improved by his appearance. “CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE” takes a moment to heat up, eventually reaching its main chorus backed by futuristic, laser gun-esque synth runs and blown-out low end; the track also features Travis Scott.
While Scott’s appearance on the previous track is worthwhile, he actively drags “PHILLY” into generic territory, a problem repeated on “WAKE UP F1LTHY.” Other collaborations register as haphazard, clunky inclusions done for the sake of doing so. Famed producer Metro Boomin lays down one of the album’s worst instrumentals with “RADAR,” a song led by weak MIDI horns and a limp, unimaginative progression. In a similar vein, “TOXIC” features Skepta fumbling through an aggravatingly monotonous backing.
Kendrick Lamar is among the most surprising guests on “MUSIC.” Although I enjoy the ad libs of “MOJO JOJO” and his verse above the richly dark chords of “GOOD CREDIT,” “BACKD00R” is Lamar’s crowning moment. A sultry, melodic verse from Carti leads nicely into a dual-vocal harmony between Lamar and Jhené Aiko, soaring over a sped-up, layered singing sample.
Coming off months of bashing Drake for his supposedly immoral behavior, however, Lamar’s collaboration feels particularly baffling. Carti is among the most notorious deadbeats in hip hop today, accused of missing his son’s birth for a gaming session. In 2017, he was arrested for domestic battery; in 2022, he was arrested on a felony assault charge for allegedly choking his pregnant girlfriend. The violent, reckless action he has been repeatedly accused of should make him a target worthy of the anger similarly hurled at Drake, especially since Carti fronts a legion of impressionable, young male supporters. Instead, Lamar uncritically lends himself to three tracks; the hypocrisy is now a topic of frequent discussion online.
I do not have the room to properly delve into debates surrounding the separation of art from artist. In my estimation, Carti’s casual fans are more excused for the minuscule monetary contributions of their streaming habits than someone like Lamar, who actively participated in the constructive process of “MUSIC.” With Travis Scott in tow after 10 died from a crowd crush at his 2021 Astroworld Festival, and labelmates Ken Carson and Destroy Lonely accused of abuse resembling Carti’s arrests, Opium’s punkish posturing uncomfortably blends into their slew of related allegations. Appreciating Lamar’s contributions with this contrast in mind becomes restrictively difficult. While Lamar has also proclaimed “The cat is out the bag, I am not your savior” on “Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers,” the line reads mostly like a poor, anticipatory excuse for facing any personal or creative culpability.
Unrelated to any of its controversies, “MUSIC” is often forgettable. A slew of average songs could have been left to a deluxe edition before seeing the light of day, including “FINE SHIT,” “CRANK,” “HBA” and “SOUTH ATLANTA BABY.” Considering three-fourths of these come ten songs into the tracklist, the front-to-back listening experience grows significantly impaired and belabored. Tracklisting issues extend to song placement as well; “WE NEED ALL THE VIBES” is random in both sequencing and style, culminating as a confused, boring inclusion. The choice of piano on “OVERLY” is also bad enough to earn a mention. If these are Carti’s attempts at horizon-expansion, his future is dull.
While “RATHER LIE” incorporates The Weeknd—someone I often avoid—in a surprisingly cohesive manner, and “I SEEEEEE YOU BABY BOI” races through a delightfully speedy, futuristic soundscape, these addictive gems are not enough to justify the album’s lengthiness. The repeatable, upbeat “MUNYUN” or “OLYMPIAN” with its compressed, dreamy synths should have been among commendable but second-tier work on 15 track release; instead, they shine bright among the duds.
I can still get behind parts of “MUSIC.” But, within the context of Carti’s career and the release’s buildup, I am left feeling dissatisfied with overarching decisions plaguing the LP. Its failures are worth discussing more so than its successes. While “MUSIC” contains promising signs, another long wait for new material could result in a drawn-out project running on fading rockstar fumes.