On Cudder’s newest effort, Indicud, it seems the never-ending plume of weed smoke hovering above his head is the cartoon rain cloud he can’t get out from under– much to his detriment.
The album drags on at 70 minutes of industrial-ish production in a perpetual state of burnout or comedown; for the most part it sounds like the too-fogged dream of someone passed out on a couch at 3 in the morning after too much hash, too many Funyons, and halfway through a cable telecast of Iron Man. Its most inspired moments fall short– good ideas lost in the ether of a hangover attempted to be recreated long after the spark has faded. On “Young Lady”, Cudi samples arguably one of last year’s biggest alt hits, Father Johny Misty’s “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings”, and it unfortunately only feels like too little too late, a bit of cool hunting after the fact, underutilizing the dark charm of the original track.
When Kid Cudi first came on the scene his anxiety riddled penchant for stonery introspection was the mass of his appeal. Now, however, it seems he’s been bogged down in the muck of that thought, lost, with not much of anything new to say. He still coughs up pithy announcements of his greatness; in fact one track is blatantly titled “Unfuckwittable”, though I’m curious as to who is ever really trying to fuck with Cudi other than Amanda Bynes. For the most part, his music has been largely passed over and his semblance of relevance has been kept afloat by a fledgling acting career and gossip columnists.
It’s a shame that an album with so many guest spots with otherwise interesting talents can’t pull this effort out of the blacklight basement it so desires to live in. A$AP Rocky, Kendrick Lamar, Haim, King Chip, and Too $hort all fail to spike any positive reaction other than mildly pleased recognition. The only track that manages to slay features RZA and, thankfully, Cudi was smart enough to give him two verses and stay out of his way.
Cudi’s slack and burn style could still smolder well in a sunlit backdrop but this meandering overcast daydream feels like Sunday night and you’ve got work in the morning. If anything it’s forgettable and light, embarrassing, even, at some points (see the 9 minute long disaster “Afterwards (Bring Yo Friends)”, featuring the un-ironic vocal stylings of Michael Bolton). It makes me long for the summer “Day and Night” came out, when I was smiling and lit taking my sweet time walking to get more Zig Zags. Now, it seems, Cudi wants me to bong my face off while watching ITT-Tech commercials and fumbling with an incomplete K’NEX set.