Album Review: The Patience - Mick Jenkins

Mick Jenkins, a lyricist born in Alabama and raised in Chicago, has captivated listeners with a special talent for spitting wisdom in funky ways. His debut album, the Water (2014), was a risky undertaking - he has committed from the start to a brand of rap that doesn't instantly appease one sonically, but the lyrics are filled with tongue-in-cheek bits that unexpectedly weave together to keep you chuckling throughout the track - all the while telling you the story of the Black experience with zero filters.

Since then, his poetry has only refined, with his seventh album, the Patience (2023), showing a new level of confidence in his delivery. Finally, we have a Jenkins that believes in the strength of his  rhetoric, and also in you, the listener, to listen closely, and to chuckle right along with him.

The first track, Michelin Star, busts out the doors with his signature flow - staccato, enunciated, and intense. 

"These n** facts be opinion based // But not in ya face... I know you smell // what a n** cookin', I'm hungry as hell... 

A Michelin Star // Couldn't see it this far // back when a n** was line cooking..." 

Mick really knows how to set up our expectations for the rest of the album! He wears his humble beginnings on his sleeve, and that's what gives him a grounded-ness that is much needed in this vein of hip-hop. Even so, his delivery does not ask for sympathy at all - this is more of a stomp on the ground, compared to something like the slightly softer, confessional verses typical of someone like, say, J. Cole.

The next track, "Show & Tell", with another great lyricist, Freddie Gibbs, is a personal favorite of mine. The brooding boom-bap instrumental, with a touch of lo-fi in the main sample, is an amazing back-drop for the unevenly spaced flows that Jenkins has spent years refining. The premise is pretty self-explanatory; he says:

"Can't give a fuck 'bout a list, which end we burning it at? // Loading up magazines, like where the real journalists at?"  

An explicit rejection of the status quo! And his sound is enough of an acquired taste to convince me of his convictions. 

Gibbs, a modern archetype of lyrical gangster rap, accompanies Jenkins effortlessly in the second half. Although, his bravado hits more like a hammer compared to Jenkins' pickaxe.

"This rap shit'll take you under, put you in the dirt and then throw the cover on you when you dead, laying in the gutter" 

This is where we see a much different perspective on hip-hop : a turf-war with guns and blood, compared to Jenkins' cracked concrete stage with clashing voices. The next track, "Sitting Ducks" with Benny the Butcher, follows a similar theme and sound, but with Jenkins now matching Gibbs' intensity and Benny taking it slightly even further. "Pasta", the eighth track, takes this to an extreme - we hear a near panic attack on the mic, accompanied by tasteful interludes of quieter bars to confirm that he's still attentive to every word he says.

Another track I wanted to highlight is undoubtedly my most replayed one off the album - Smoke Break-Dance featuring Atlanta's lyrical savior, JID. Rarely have I seen a JID feature where the other artist does not get absolutely out-shined! This one is special, because both artists are on the same wavelength - the lyrics sound like tired ramblings from a dark and dirty apartment, where the only sounds are slow jazz, Mac Miller, and smoke-coughs. 

"Fees going up // Trees blowing up in flames, find us a forest fire every smoke break..." 

is Mick's simplistic caricature of a generationally inherited world, on the brink of collapse. 

"We opened up WeSpace, we gave art hang-time // we tryna reclaim time // we finna rebuild, no Home Depot with us ... And I keep rollin' up" 

shows us a level of nihilism that can be warranted, but one that most of us are too scared to accept. 

That said, the point of the track is not a re-iteration of doom, it is the societal commentary that rises from it. This is the set-up where JID picks up from: 

"We was at the bottom, I was guided by the beats, guided by the guns, guided by the streets // The mystery to me is unsolved ... everybody do a blunt-toast like the white folks when they clink glasses ... I don't wanna see nobody that I know or love layin' in a deep casket ... but a n**** keep rollin' up"

This is what we're here for: to see divides in a shared reality that are so massive that they might as well be comically tragic. 

The last track I think is worth writing about here is ROY G. BIV - a calmer Jenkins vibes over a short, psychedelic beat with simpler commentaries, constructed to talk about a Black experience that, in reality, spans the entire color spectrum. 

"Had auburn in his hair // Light brown skin a family trait he didn't share... all kinda green in this b** // You could be in limelights too, all you gotta do is exaggerate, smoking on something' chartreuse... tend to oversaturate with this hue"  

This is what I was talking about earlier, when I said that Jenkins weaves unexpected metaphors that make you smile! 

"What brush stroke did you get stuck in? What color pallet you mixed up in? What perspectives did your shit up-end?" 

are powerful re-askings of questions I have heard a million times, but never with such a vivid set-up (pun intended). 

Overall, The Patience is Jenkins in his prime - a spoken-word writer who decided to embrace the underbelly of Chicago before walking into a slam poetry club. He has a way with metaphors that I deeply resonate with, and although these are "heavy listens" that I would not play in a social setting, I hope to hear more good stuff in the future.

Overall - 7.5/10

Best tracks - ROY G. BIV, Smoke Break-Dance

Genre - Conscious Rap