The least memorable songs on this record are its most blatant appeals to the Billboard chart, as if Nash were trying to seduce somebody he doesn’t respect. “High Art” lumbers around in search of a club until Jay-Z shows up, sounding like he recorded his verse while booking plane tickets. “Turnt,” which uses the same refrain with a different Knowles-Carter, only inspires longing for what it replaced—another Beyonce collaboration, built around a Culture Club sample they couldn’t clear, said to be the album’s lost treasure. Obliquely recalling Future’s “Same Damn Time” (“got my left hand on that booty / got my right hand on that pussy”), “Pussy” follows the album’s best guest appearance with its very worst, as Pusha T gives way to Big Sean, a rapper so inert he can be legally killed in Holland.
Wrote about the new Terius, got to namecheck both Trotsky and Lily in the process.