...And Then You Shoot Your Cousin

It crash-lands, abruptly ending an album that, depending on the amount of time spent with it, will seem either fragmentary and hollow or fathoms deep--either a trifle or among the group's most remarkable work.

And Then You Shoot Your Cousin is as brilliantly strong as Undun, with a multi-faceted story that slowly unravels.

While the album showcases the band's equilibrium and by now unquestioned versatility, it does mean that amidst the intended dissonance and vocal cameos, Black Thought's verses are not as prominent.

It’s a curious turn, but one that finds them as oddly whimsical and satisfying as ever.

[A] sturdy, panoramic critique of modern rap mores. [Aug 2014, p.92]

It’s a headier album, but one rife with significance.

Black Thought remains a spectacular rapper, decades into a career with plenty of invitations to burn out. He hasn't slackened an inch. His flow patterns on "Understand" hit like flurries of jabs to the sternum. The problem for listeners, of course, remains that he never quite knows how to stop dancing on his toes; he always sounds like he's high-stepping through a tire-field.

The production is ultimately enough of a spoonful of sugar to make it easy to swallow.

The band seems fueled by a moody, circa-1961 record collection, recontextualizing life before funk.

...And Then You Shoot Your Cousin is a trim 35 minutes in length, with 11 tracks and eight proper songs, zooming through its disjointed structure without much padding. This slimness functions as a counterweight to the often stifling subject matter, as the group employs its soul-influenced backdrops in a way that feels totally opposed to what most modern hip-hop is doing.

It’s still a strong album with several standout moments, but these great moments are often hampered by the inchoate themes and parched ideas surrounding it, making the album feel at times unfinished.

With their 11th effort, The Roots have managed yet another album individualistic like little else in hip-hop, but unlike their best work this one’s more interested in scholastic provocation than genuine pathos.

On And Then You Shoot Your Cousin, the Roots serve up a concept album of tortured stories from a collection of downtrodden and conflicted characters.

Not all of it sounds like a string quartet pulling itself apart, or a piano chewing up its own keys. Polished, radio friendly pop hooks snag on the acute, serrated edges of Black Thought’s gloomy verses.

Bracing, brilliant.