R.Y.C.

Without overstating the point, the innovation that’s happening in today’s rock music is not coming from traditional rock bands — it’s coming from innovative artists that are fusing it with other sounds, ranging from Soundcloud rappers to electronic-inspired outfits like Guerilla Toss to post-metal acts like Deafheaven. In that context, it’s perhaps no surprise that fresh rock sounds are coming from a nominee for 2018’s Best Dance Album Grammy.

Full of warmth, humour and depth. [Feb 2020, p.86]

Gone are the house influences that underpinned his 2016 debut, and in are scratchy demo-sounding guitars, crisp production and gorgeous flourishes of string arrangements. House still lives on in some of the beat arrangements, although it’s presented through more natural-sounding drums which, when stacked against the lo-fi instrumentals, births something fresh and inspired.

The album sees Crossan as a distinctive producer once again, after the events of the past few years threatened to leave him faceless.

Where R.Y.C. succeeds—and where Crossan reveals a real point of view—is in his ultimate rejection of these initial frameworks in favor of something more fluid, a hybrid space in which these sounds, stylings, and emotional responses work together.

Compared to the previous self-titled record the features here are in sharp contrast, with less of a hip-hop emphasis. That doesn't mean they're not interesting, though.

Sometimes his curious fusion works. ... Sometimes it doesn't. [Feb 2020, p.115]

R.Y.C. is scattered and uneasy, but considering its subject matter and the emotions it expresses, it seems like it couldn't have turned out any other way, so it sounds undeniably genuine.

Despite a couple of nicely turned meditations (the title track, A Meeting at an Oak Tree), Raw Youth Collage mainly transmits a confusion that is less generational than solely Mura Masa’s.

For an album with the word 'raw' in its title, it contains virtually nothing gritty and therefore is hard to take seriously.