Album Review: Bobby Tarantino III by Logic
Congratulations Logic: Here’s your participation trophy for this mixtape.
Taken from Phil’s defunct blog, The Wax Report, an extensive review of the most important albums, covering everything from production to lyricism and overall cohesiveness.
“Rapping just to rap, what the fuck happened to that?” Logic raps on “Untitled,” the closing track of his new supposed commercial mixtape. And if that was his goal, then he should be awarded a certificate of participation in all honors. Whatever Logic does on Bobby Tarantino III to call it rap would certainly not be a lie. But beyond that? The man built a career-end arc last year with great effect, made a round conclusion with No Pressure, and was ready to devote himself to his family, and three-quarters of a year later, we have this on the plate. This mixtape, no, an album is so lifeless and meaningless one wonders if diaper changes and housework were really so bad for Bobby.
Bobby Tarantino III is marked by a pronounced lack of ideas. Or the ideas are not missing; objectively, there are even many ideas, but they are all only bad, and in addition to their badness, still relatively unbaked. How do I manage, he must have wondered, to work over thirteen tracks as confidently and in as many ways as possible past my strengths? Each song is dedicated in its own uninspired way to the task of reproducing the style of another rapper.
“Vaccine” has obviously been instrumentally based on the Astroworld collaboration “Carousel” by Travis Scott and Frank Ocean. The cosmic atmosphere of the synthesizers, the striking vocal riff, the general mood. Unfortunately, Logic has as much psychedelic credibility as Ed Sheeran on children's television, and the song ultimately sounds empty, dry, and sober.
In general, this album often feels as if you are seeing the rehearsal of a piece in which no actor really acts in costume, mask, or character. When he makes his best attempt to be Kid Cudi on “Get Up” and, from vocal color to hum to textual premise, he shows up everything that makes the Moonman so special, he feels strange on the sad guitar loop. He doesn't have the vocal color and the gravitas for such a song, but above all, he knows, and we know that it's bullshit. This song is as authentic as his attempt to sound on “My Way” when Trippie Redd sang a Fetty Wap cover.
It understands someone anyway where Logic has this idea of being one of the big, atmospheric rappers who are good at embodying melancholy and psychedelic and singing a lot. So many songs here sound like the first steps of a moderately talented Soundcloud rapper. And that’s obviously not Logic. He is this sweet, passionate rap nerd who convinces himself with over-ambitious concepts, fast rap, and over-candidate technology demonstrations. That may not be as chic as Travis Scott or Kid Cudi, but that's what he is. He is obviously too cheerful, too sober, and too focused for two-thirds of the concepts of this record.
The fact that at least a slight upswing happens in the end is due to the fact that he gets a little grip on himself and raps patterns that are more in his element. The quick flex on “See You, Space Cowboy” will find his following, and even if his forced reference to Kanye’s The College Dropout is not reflected in the over-polished glitter beat of “God Might Judge,” he makes up for it with a Mint Condition sample. and few of his best flows of the record, even if it sounds like a diet version of Drake’s “Nice for What.” However, the flows would have to do a heroic job if they want to make this record worth listening to because if we already find out that the sound and the concept go through the bench into the void, we can also agree that the lyrics are murks.
To a large extent, this album sounds like a lousy freestyle. “Came back to the scene, came back with a team/Like rap ain’t a thing, I'ma do anything/I’ma rap, I’ma sing, yeah, I’m back, I’m the king/Came back from the trap to supply all the fiends,” he raps on “Vaccine:” I am the Young Sinatra, do it my way/I do a one-eighty on the highway/I got a couple cars in my driveway/I got a broad couples in my driveway” on “My Way” and a Hulk Hogan-haired Fred Durst suddenly gets warm around his heart.
Man, what a waste of a release spot. You retire with a big aura, return barely a year later, and make an album that follows precisely the deepest points of your own career. Bobby Tarantino III is confusing, awkward, absolutely not adequate, and above all, almost entirely pointless. If you like Logic as a rapper, you will be upset that you absolutely do not rap in your element here. If you like the rappers on which you are oriented, you will not be happy with this pencil sketch of their sounds. Logic rapped to rap. All right. Then let’s hope that the inevitable next album sets a little higher goals.
Poor (★☆☆☆☆)
Favorite Track(s): “God Might Judge”