Death Race for Love

Genre-blending albums (no matter how commonplace they might be these days) are not easy to pull off and for that, Juice WRLD should be given credit. From the seemingly sincere lyrics to the equally candid delivery, Juice truly goes with his gut in whichever way (rap, sing, hum, sob).

Death Race succeeded in its most fundamental mission, which was to prove that “Lucid Dreams” was not a fluke. Songs like “Fast,” “Ring, “Hear Me Calling” strike a dynamic balance of raw charisma and profound anxiety. ... While his melodrama tends to grow old over the course of a 22-track, 72-minute album, it is captivating in small doses.

The inventive melodies are consistently present and strengthened even more by his knack for hooks, like “Ring Ring,” a bona fide hit for the genre. But Juice begins to run out his welcome at this point, about two-thirds of the way into 21 full-length songs and one interlude. It can be hard to justify that long an album for most artists, and Juice, while bold in his efforts, doesn’t prove to be compelling enough to keep you engaged, especially with only three features (Brent Faiyaz, Young Thug and Clever appear).

Fifty percent of the lyrics are bad (“Back on my bullshit, devil emoji”) and the other 50 percent are also bad, but then they get stuck in your head and ultimately turn good (“Tell me your darkest secret shit you wouldn’t even tell Jesus”). ... Death Race For Love feels like the real Juice WRLD, wearing his influences and heart on his sleeve, putting his ups and downs into the music in real time.

Juice wants to get in touch with his feelings but then drowns them in a gallon of syrup.

It’s slim on features (only Young Thug, Clever and Brent Faiyaz) but big on misanthropic head-nodders that put Juice’s Fall Out Boy-style whine or raspy flow to the fore: he is more versatile than his peers and also more gifted. ... But ultimately, the suicide references of songs such as Empty and casual misogyny in the tauntingly violent Syphilis leave an uncomfortable taste.

Juice WRLD is wrecked, angry, and using drugs to cope, and even though his appeals come through at times, much of Death Race for Love transforms the listener into the shoulder that Juice WRLD is crying on.

These new sad songs don’t quite hit the soul like previous ones did.

The ratio of bangers to duds, however, is not great, and Death Race for Love feels an awful lot like an unabridged teenage diary; while the occasional clever turn of phrase and moment of profundity is sure to bubble up, most of it is simple self-indulgence, an onslaught of pure emotion whose sincerity is never in question, but all of which starts to blur together after a mere few pages or songs.