Bleep

As one of hip hop’s premier auteurs, Danny Brown has been no stranger to conscious themes and current affairs; much of his discography features blisteringly honest verses set to explosive productions. But on his sixth album Quaranta, Danny Brown shows a new side: with his forlorn face half obscured by the shadows of his past, he delivers a raw, autobiographical clarity that we haven’t seen before.

Part of this comes with age. “Quaranta” means “forty” in Italian, marking pivotal moments and epiphanies in the years since his breakout record XXX. It’s also where the word “quarantine” originates, not only referring to the decade defining lockdowns the album was written in, but to a deep sense of isolation and self reflection that colours Danny’s storytelling. As the album’s very first line says, “This rap shit done saved my life and fucked it up at the same time”: there’s no begging for pity here, rather Danny is telling all, with ‘Maggot Brain’-esque shreds framing his bare, wisened voice.

Danny’s vanguard status as an artist allows him to school the youngins of the rap game while unpacking his own downfalls. In that way, Quaranta becomes a case study of the rapper, reckoning with the realities of his dream career. ‘Y.B.P.’ is as much an admonishment of destitute living situations as it is a celebration of Detroit’s ingenuity, leading into an abstract thesis on gentrification in ‘Jenn’s Terrific Vacation’, where musical structures are knocked down and rebuilt just as quickly as the architectural ones are, while freezing tones depict stagnation in the midst of immense change.