...And Then You Shoot Your Cousin

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

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

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.

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

The Roots have not only proven once again that they are one of hip-hop’s most consistent acts, but also one of the genre’s most important.

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.

...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.

Bracing, brilliant.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

It's chillingly powerful, but the band sell short their cinematic ambitions with just 33 minutes of music. [Aug 2014, p.102]

Even though …and then you shoot your cousin never quite betrays its allegiance to either criticism or satire and is consequently an awkward, variable amalgam of both, it offers something important in its efficacy to disrupt that logic and pave out a new line of progression for a mature act.

The half-hour run time makes the relentlessly cerebral approach more palatable, though the ending feels a bit too tidy.

Songs sag and soar at once.

They raise issues only to question them, a point driven home by the askew music. It doesn’t make for the most direct, or exciting, of sounds. But by embracing hip hop and also standing outside it, the album lends the genre a perspective it could use.

Despite the record’s production, some of the group’s most ambitious to date, it feels incomplete, seemingly ending five or six songs early. It’s a grower, yes, but there’s too much to unpack for it to sound vital to modern hip-hop’s equilibrium.

The finished product proves too studied and reverent of its sources. [Jul 2014, p.64]

It’s just the Roots resting on the laurels. I think they may need another movement.