Danny Brown: Stardust

"This is a comeback story: a former "junkie, alcoholic" who lost control, now recovered and reborn, embracing the bliss and identity-making potential of music like never before. It's a classic hip-hop underdog narrative, and this is very much a rap album, just adorned with a Splice pack's worth of pixie-lated dust. Rave music is often associated with druggy abandon, but for Brown it seems more about the heady rush of joy conjured by whizzing tempos and neon synths."

"In "Book of Daniel," the first of two Quadeca collabs, he puts himself on rap's Rushmore (alongside Kendrick and Earl) and shits on clickbait rappers, all while describing how he survived the days of "drinking till [I] passed out" and urging you to be your truest self. "Fuck punching in, I'mma write til my wrist breaks," he declares. "Don't have a care in this world/About what anybody thinks.. When the fat lady sings/Just know you lived your dreams.""

"It's obvious that rap's perennial eccentric would find kinship with the new vanguard of outsiders, corroding pop with Skrillex frag-bombs and all-out howls. These pals crowd around Brown at every crazed corner: Digicore darling 8485 throws a heavenly halo over the trance-rap cut "Flowers"; Texas oddball JOHNNASCUS yells ferociously over the apocalyptic "1999." Brown gets unexpectedly poignant on "What You See," which starts like a bonus cut before he confesses how he used to be a power-abusing horndog."

A recovered former 'junkie, alcoholic' channels rebirth into a high-energy rap album steeped in rave textures and neon synths. The music prioritizes ecstatic joy and identity-making potential over drug-stereotype tropes, pairing rapid tempos with Splice-pack flourishes. Collaborators from the digicore and outsider scenes lend heavenly halos, ferocious yells, and wounded textures across tracks like 'Flowers,' '1999,' and 'What You See.' Confessional lyrics recount nights of drinking until passing out, past abuses, and a vow to write until the wrist breaks, while character elements and poetry narration frame a loose concept around Dusty Star. The record balances hooks, chaos, and poignant self-examination.

Read at Pitchfork