Though the rapper takes questionable creative risks on his fifth album, he’s still capable of bringing scenes to life with a wide eye and a sharp pen.
It’s no secret that Big K.R.I.T. is something of a rap anachronist. His music—transfixed on the dichotomy between the trunk-rattling anthems and soulful grooves that dominated Southern rap from the mid-’90s to early 2000s—has persisted both for its otherness and overall quality. Songs like 2010’s “Just Touched Down” and 2014’s “Soul Food” served as tributes to 8Ball & MJG and Goodie Mob, respectively—and weren’t in fashion at the time they came out. But K.R.I.T. wasn’t so much wearing his influences on his letterman sleeve as he was creating his own patchwork from the same materials.
The Mississippi rapper’s fifth studio album, Digital Roses Don’t Die, feels like the biggest curveball of his career, even for an artist used to going against the grain. Between his 2017 double album 4eva Is a Mighty Long Time and 2020’s K.R.I.T. Iz Here, K.R.I.T. achieved a delicate balance of brash and introspective cuts, which has since been abandoned. Instead of subwoofer-shredding bass, Roses subscribes to the sleek funk style of bands like Sly and the Family Stone and Parliament-Funkadelic—sounds that his Dungeon Family progenitors would spend hours digging through crates to replicate. Roses aims for a similar love-soaked retrofuturism as albums like OutKast’s Stankonia, Mac Miller’s The Divine Feminine, and Silk Sonic’s An Evening with Silk Sonic. And though K.R.I.T.’s risktaking is commendable, the results flounder between earnest ballads and cover band hokeyness.
Roses’s imbalance is a shame because its direction feels like a logical extension for K.R.I.T. His past love songs are as seamless as the fusion of his pet sounds, pulsing with the rush of first love or the gravity of an argument as the narrative demands. Roses is more expansive in scope, encapsulating a four-act love story from first contact to breakup, sectioned off by the four elements: the early passion of fire; the foundation of earth; the familiarity and rhythm of water; and the turbulence of wind, as he explained during a livestreamed album listening event.
K.R.I.T. is still capable of bringing scenes to life with a wide eye and a sharp pen, and certain moments showcase the warm sincerity of his earlier work. “Southside of the Moon” is a playful take on the age-old love story to hip-hop (“I’m from 300, she from 106 & Park/BET Uncut, I used to see her in the dark”), told over producer DJ Camper’s minimal 808s, snaps, bass notes, and hums. That song and “Rhode Clean” evoke vintage K.R.I.T., effortless rap-R&B hybrids that cruise by like gently refurbished muscle cars. On “Generational - Weighed Down,” he fears passing his alcoholism and bad decisions onto his future children and second-guesses the relationship he spends the first half of the album building. “Even if we are faithful,” he coos to his nameless lover, “Sometimes love flames out.”
But moments with genuine heart and drive are too often spoiled by overeager schmaltz. The raps on Roses are fleeting compared to previous projects, and while K.R.I.T. has proven many times that he can carry a tune, the album suffers when he shifts gears completely. “Cum Out to Play” is supposed to be a velvet-sheeted sex jam for the ages—K.R.I.T. has even admitted that he purposefully produced the song at 69 bpm—but it’s little more than Isley Brothers karaoke. Ditto the post-breakup bar crawl of “Wet Lashes & Shot Glasses” and “Show U Right,” which aims for roller-rink jam status—complete with talkboxed vocals on the hook—but lands in generic ’70s-movie-soundtrack territory. This clash of time periods sometimes manifests in unintentionally hilarious ways, like a shoehorned 8Ball & MJG reference on “Show U Right” or K.R.I.T.’s insistence on including rap adlibs over the decidedly mellow hooks of “Boring” and “So Cool.” For the first time in his career, K.R.I.T. is trying too hard, inserting puzzle pieces where they don’t quite fit.
As forced as the album sounds, K.R.I.T.’s commitment shines through the muck. He truly enjoys the music he’s recreating, and on standouts like “So Cool” and “Generational - Weighed Down,” that love is infectious. But the interpolated soul beats that have been his calling card for the last decade and change have more personality than much of the staid bandstand work on display across Roses. The album’s four interludes end with slightly different variations of the titular phrase, each one drifting further from the preserved romance of the original: “Take a picture, but keep it original/’cause who needs filters when digital roses don’t die?” K.R.I.T.’s love for the music that made him was never in question, but it would benefit him to find a new way to show his love for the old school.
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