It all feels inclusive, trading away audience thrills for self-serving expression.
But even at its nadirs, The Album About Nothing doesn’t falter because of poor song craft. “That One Time in Houston” isn’t just one of the project’s longest track, but also one of its worst, meandering through nowhere past indulgence. Cole problem: plenty of awareness but very broad, idealistic strokes of insight. There’s a general sense of cohesion within The Album About Nothing’s palatable, woozy production, but there’s too little compelling content. “The Girls On Drugs” doesn’t use Janet Jackson‘s “Go Deep” sample to its maximum potential, but does find effectiveness within its bleak party scene (“The really insecure ones look good as s**t/ Nothing fill the void of a little pill”). There are some highlights: “The White Shoes” is a slow-tempo jam that somewhat works as a catharsis, while “The Middle Finger” is a whizzing trip to a purple-hue existence. It’s connection with The Mixtape About Nothing and More About Nothing is mostly in the title.
Although it’s better than The Gifted, The Album About Nothing too often drags. Conveying the latter was a clear focus on this effort-the go-go influences are stripped down here. The story leading up to Wale’s fourth album - The Call and the depression leading up to it - are already well-known threads. The Album About Nothing continues that tradition with its mix of good production and slack perspective, interrupted by inconsequential Jerry Seinfeld cameos. None of their recent releases were anything to write home about. Again, very unlucky, but let’s not let MMG off the hook. The Album About Nothing walked on by after all that, like a kid arriving late to the Jordans line in December. Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterflydropped, Earl Sweatshirt’s I Dont’ Like S**t, I Don’t Go Outside surprised and Action Bronson’s Mr. This time around, Wale got overshadowed for an entire month.
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