Quaranta

Though it may confound the fans who want more of the yelping renegade of old, this is Brown’s most personal and cohesive record to date; difficult, timely, and necessary. To the man’s credit, he can drop so many of his signature tics and tricks without becoming any less captivating an artist.

Though each installment seamlessly fluctuates from one temperature to another, redemption and regret guide the package’s dark enchantment.

Lyrically, Brown is still one of the best we have. .... Charismatic guests like Bruiser Wolf, Overall and MIKE manage to make their respective marks without taking up too much space — This is Brown's story.

Quaranta is Danny Brown at his finest—and his most personal. It’s one of this year’s best albums: a no-skips project from an artist committed to stepping into the light and putting his best foot forward every day, despite the clouds that sometimes obscure the sun.

The "low tide" hinted at on side one submerges the second half, but delivers some of Brown's deepest, most affecting work. [Feb 2024, p.88]

It's clear that Brown is still capable of being sonically adventurous even while pausing to take stock. [Jan 2024, p.27]

This worthy sequel to XXX is the first release since 2011 to offer a convincing portrait of Brown as a wholly realistic character. [Jan/Feb 2024, p.81]

Quaranta is an incredibly brave work of art. It eludes navel gazing and the self-flagellation that comes with substance abuse. It is varied enough to provide entertainment, but never submits to commodification.

Quaranta shows that Brown has lost none of his musical acuity. Like post-punk icons Hüsker Du in the 80s, Brown knows how to assemble a compelling project, leaving fans to argue which one is the prettiest of the bunch.

Quaranta is not nearly as explosive as XXX – released around the time Danny Brown turned 30 – but we have engaging lyrics, head-nodding beats, and another quality record from one of Detroit’s best musical exports.

Though occasionally wallowing, there’s a self-assuredness here, a comfort in one’s skin, that’s refreshing, and relieving, given how close to the edge this ship has teetered over the years. As entertainment via soundwaves, it occasionally sags-lags-drags, but for a thoughtful tome on patient self-betterment, you couldn’t ask for much more.

On the more diaristic songs, the narratives aren’t as vivid, the rapping isn’t as nimble, and the songs lack momentum.

Quaranta makes for an often frustrating experience, where tracks will circle around a topic with some level of pathos but seem incapable of ever reaching their full potential.

The title track and single Tantor are decent, and Shakedown a warm beachside strut, with Brown’s lyrical ice shards speared through. Bass Jam is lovely nostalgia, shimmering harmonies surrounding him like ghosts of his former selves. Otherwise, the beats feel slightly tired, casting a pall greater than any of Brown’s recent misfortunes.