BY Jody Rosen | May 8, 2013
Chance the Rapper doesn't adumbrate his influences, or his ambitions. His beat breeze at times baldly resembles Lil Wayne's or, at added times, Eminem's; his mainstream-but-iconoclastic aspect draws afflatus from Kendrick Lamar and Kanye West. But on his berserk anticipated, durably assured additional mixtape, the Chicagoan speaks in his own characteristic and aberrant voice. It's a articulation that shifts, with jolt, amid agile rapping and rap-singing. (In "Juice," his raggedly blatant carol recalls Billie Holiday.) As the anthology appellation suggests, the beats, admitting absolutely hooky, accept a woozy, consciousness-expanding feel. But it's the body of wit, ideas, and exact apparatus that makes this one of the year's defining hip-hop releases, whether Chance is rapping about God's corpuscle buzz battery, ancestral politics, or alone unleashing blubbery clusters of rhymes: "Chance, acerbic rapper, soccer, hacky sacker/Cocky biscuit anorak jacker."
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