Doris

Doris features instrumental interludes, expanded mid-song diversions and enough surprise to warrant repeated--obsessive--evaluation.

Doris is miles ahead of 2010’s Earl, and on it, Earl surpasses nearly all of his contemporaries (save perhaps “King of New York” Kendrick Lamar, who is comparatively a grizzled veteran at 26).

Though the narratives are harder to follow, and the refrains more verbose (or simply absent), this music is still full of youthful anger. The nature of it is simply more suitable for a recent-high-school-graduate-aged kid grappling with more knotty insecurities. It’s also probable that much of Earl’s younger audience has grown up with him, and will relate to this impressive record even more deeply than his first.

When listening to Doris, you're going to want to have lyrics nearby or else you're going to miss well over half of what's being said. It makes for an album that's hard to listen to without putting in some effort, but the results speak for themselves as Doris proves to be both a rewarding and engrossing listen, even if there are still a few kinks to be worked out.

With Doris, Odd Future’s Odysseus is finally back and chasing the ghosts out of his head.

Doris displays some of those growing pains, but it also delivers a uniquely impressive collection of vicious beats and lyrics that make Magna Carta...Holy Grail sound like Marky Mark.

There are perhaps too many guests, but this unassuming talisman clearly prefers sharing his space. [Nov 2013, p.84]

A joy to listen to. [Nov 2013, p.69]

He doesn’t want to be a powerhouse rap star. Doris may alienate people looking for him to be that. For everyone else, this is a powerful record.

It’s the work of a talented rapper who takes palpable pleasure in the possibilities of language.

His trademark reticence (both this and 2010's Earl begin with voices needling him to speak) means he gives away too many verses: the best tracks are him and him alone.

It's obvious there's still plenty of room for some maturing (especially with the group's approach to women), but it's nice to at least see a little progress to go along with the stunning music.

Doris represents one of the most innovative and important hip-hop releases of the year. Not just because of the charm and intrigue of Earl’s story but because of the immense and understated level of his talent for writing rhymes.

Despite all the gifted-beyond-his-years hype, that over-arching concerns still feel inextricably teenaged, albeit precociously so.

Earl Sweatshirt is telling truths rather than forging fantasy, and Doris is a disturbed and penetrating journey into the mind of the boy that came back from Samoa.

He's struggling to reconcile the unease of his past with the confusion of his present, but Doris proves that Earl's future is secure.

It’s not always focused, and it’s not always perfect, but that’s what real freedom feels like.

Earl may be one of the quieter voices on Doris, but his dense, evocative sensibility dominates the album both lyrically and musically, making for exciting confirmation that one of rap's most technically accomplished voices has also got his conceptual vision firmly in place.

Doris is unsettled, messy, and takes a bit to sort, but there are codes to crack and rich rewards to reap, so enter with an open mind and prepare to leave exhausted.

It’s a work as notable for its technical achievements as its nuanced themes, and that’s almost as impressive considering that so many artists lack in one or both of those fields.

Where he has yet to master the art of making complete songs (“Uncle Al” clocks in under a minute long) and his diction tends to lacks clarity, Earl paints pictures in a manner more poetic than just about all within his peer group.

What follows is Doris, a slow (rarely rising above 70 bpm), introspective album where Earl Sweatshirt combats pressures when returning to a life of stardom after time spent at a Samoa-based boarding school for troubled youths. 


Many of the best rap records are monochromatically single-minded, but then the other half, embrace contradictions as a weapon, rage hiding insecurities, heartless satire shielding weakness, such as Earl’s hero, early period Slim Shady.

Doris may not get the party started, but it's still an inspiring album.

Earl’s skills are incontestable, but at times, it feels like he has nothing to prove. Doris could have resulted in one big shrug fest, if it weren’t for the ferocity in Earl’s bars--which is probably all the leverage he needs.

It's to Earl's credit that he's managed to make the music he wants to, even if it's more of a rapper's rap record than one of any major crossover appeal.

Doris hits a couple more high points when Earl flirts with horrorcore.

His rhyme schemes are as complex as ever, and these resolutely unpop beats--sticky-icky sample collages from producers including Pharrell, RZA and himself--are an ideal canvas.

Lacking the dynamic between repulsive brutality and oddball humor that made Earl so uncomfortably riveting, Doris is both tonally fragmented and occasionally monotonous: an ocean of griminess broken up by earnest confessional rhymes.

Doris isn't the classic many anticipated, but it is a strong, uncompromised debut from a very talented young rapper. For now, that's enough.