'The Big Day' - Chance the Rapper REVIEW

Recently we saw the return of Chance the Rapper, the self-proclaimed ‘best prodigy’ of Kanye West, for the release of his debut album The Big Day. The term ‘debut’ is perhaps used in the loosest sense of the word considering he has had three extremely successful solo projects prior to this, including three Grammy wins for his 2016 ‘mixtape’ Coloring Book; in doing so he became the first artist in history to win the award without selling a physical copy of his music. Coloring Book seemed to fully propel Chance to the mainstream and made music fans outside of hip-hop take notice of him, contrasting to the underground audience he had before. Chance’s projects prior to now documented his development as not only an artist, but from a teenager into an adult, with The Big Day following suit. Beginning with his infamous 10 day suspension that led to the namesake mixtape 10 Day, Chance’s music grew with him as a person as he moved from a youngster trying to find his sound to the experimental acid user that conveyed fear and paranoia alongside party jams on the fan-favourite Acid Rap. When he moved on to Coloring Book, he brought with him a heap of religious themes, exemplified by the frequent use and influence of gospel singers in tracks such as 'Blessings' and ‘How Great’. A small collection of songs were released last year, but that was somewhat insignificant compared to the build up for his debut feature-length studio album.

The Big Day focuses mostly on his recent marriage to the mother of his child, expressing his love for her and his excitement about the latest chapter in his quickly developing adulthood.

It is a pleasant concept that continues Chance’s progression into a responsible adult, moving away from the drug-fuelled days of his adolescence that we began to see on Coloring Book and Surf, his project with Donnie Trumpet & The Social Experiment. However, The Big Day is an impossibly positive outlook on love and monotony that, whilst exemplifying Chance's can-do-no-wrong media personality, is quite unbearable to listen to. What made Chance so appealing in his Acid Rap days was his relatability. Young rap fans could identify with coming home high and hiding it from their parents, or the constant fear of immortality, or finding comfort in being told they had value. Even Coloring Book, a project I didn't enjoy that much, had some great summer jams and club anthems like ‘No Problem’ alongside some more thoughtful and reserved tracks such as ‘Same Drugs’. The Big Day, on the other hand, would have you believe that it is impossible to be unhappy if you are a rich, successful, married celebrity, of which there are umpteen conflicting case studies. Whilst I can appreciate that Chance has built up the persona of a happy, good-natured, and loving husband and father through surreal Kit-Kat adverts, the seemingly pain-free life he portrays himself to have is so far removed from how the average listener feels that it is difficult to understand an artist who used to feel so relatable. The depiction of good-guy Chance is even more farcial when there have been numerous reports on his behaviour being somewhat contrasting, such as telling die-hard fans to 'eat a dick' and getting his representatives to threaten cutting ties with MTV if they did not remove a critical review. These make The Big Day an implausible concept and having to listen to this fake illustration of euphoria for a pain-staking 77 minutes almost demeans the feeling of true happiness.

From the get-go it is clear that Chance the Rapper has fully embraced his status as a popstar rather than rapper. His records have often used the first track to set the tone for the rest of the project and what the John Legend-featured opener ‘All Day Long’ immediately tells us is that this version of Chance is made for media and not for music. Whilst most charted artists aim to get radio play for their work, this album seems to cater more towards TikTok videos of people dancing in their bedrooms. Openers like ‘Good Ass Intro’ from Acid Rap convey the tone of hallucinogenic-filled fun and enjoyment that is prevalent throughout the record, whilst the features of Kanye West and Chicago Children’s Choir on ‘All We Got’ from Coloring Book show the influence of gospel on his work and a step in a new direction. ‘All Day Long’, however, only conveys ‘this is a pop record with commercial sounding songs’. The substance has been replaced for instant gratification and consequently sets the tone for some of Chance’s worst lyrics he has ever wrote, such as 'Life is short as midget, but mine's a little LeBron/Been a minute‚ since Eminem was a blonde’. Compared to lines from previous projects such as ‘Keep a tab on my exes, keep some X on my tongue/Keep my work out in Texas, that's just me flexing my lungs’, a bar full of metaphors and double entendres, it is immediately noticeable how far the standard of quality has dropped in Chance’s lyricism.

There is a slight upturn in the songs ‘Do You Remember’ and ‘Eternal’, in which Chance demonstrates some rhyme schemes and flows over great production that remind you how he got here and why he is so highly regarded. However, the songs following this drew the same reaction from me that I usually get having seen Tottenham squander a hard-fought lead against tough opposition; it truly is the hope that kills you. The remainder of the album suffers a complete identity crisis, moving from parody trap beats to heartfelt ballads to remakes of 90s hits reminiscent of a Disney reboot. The next 10 or so songs each sound like they should be on a completely separate album, as they all lack any sense of cohesion or chemistry with each other and are seemingly curated on a completely individual basis. There are some good moments, such as the beat for ‘I Got You (Always And Forever)’, but the track sounds like it has been taken from En Vogue’s throwaway stash and repackaged as a Chance the Rapper song to gain points for harking back to 90s R&B like a South Park ‘Member Berry’.

Each song in this horror section is filled with cringeworthy bars that are so awful my ears felt offended just for having listened, but this project’s terribleness can be summed up by two tracks: ‘Hot Shower’ and the title track ‘The Big Day’. For starters, why these two songs are on the same album is worrying. They share no common themes, tones, vibes, or any faint similarities, and raise serious questions about the quality control over an album as big as this; is Chance still picking the tracks? If no, who is? If so, how could he let such low-quality music make it on to his biggest work to date? Is the face of the independent musician still actually independent? Secondly, these two songs showcase, without a doubt, the worst writing in Chance’s whole career. The entirety of Chance’s bars on ‘Hot Shower’ honestly sound like they should be performed at 2am by that guy freestyling at a party and no one has the heart to tell him he can’t rap. His lyrics on ‘The Big Day’ are literally the same four lines repeated over and over. Francis and the Lights put in their nomination for worst feature in the history of music with their impression of the best exit from a reality show ever. Whilst I did berate Chance for becoming unrelatable in his move from the underground to the mainstream, he did touch home through the screeching and yelling about a third of the way in the song ‘The Big Day’, as it was evocative of the nightmarish cacophony that I felt surrounded by listening to this album.

There are some good segments of the album, but more often than not they do not involve Chance. His younger brother Taylor completely shows him up on the track ‘Roo’, whilst Megan Thee Stallion reaffirms why she is so highly regarded in hip-hop on the song ‘Handsome’. In fact, it could be argued that the features on this album are symbolic of its downfall. Not only did the aforementioned rappers completely outshine Chance on his own record, the complete mismatch of guests massively interrupted the flow and identity that this project tries to stamp down. I cannot fathom why Randy Newman is on a Chance the Rapper album, let alone two tracks down from Lil Durk, with the latter exemplifying the steepness of Chance’s fall from grace as he attempts to adapt to Durk’s most basic rapping ability. What is perhaps most telling about this album is not who is on it, but it's notable absentees. There is no guest verse from Noname, who has been a highlight on his past two projects, his mentor Kanye West seems to be nowhere near this record, and a feature from Childish Gambino seems like a nostalgic memory rather than a possibility on an album as bad as this.

For almost every rapper crossing the bridge from underground to mainstream, there is always a section of their fan base that feels like it is being left behind. The tripe of missing the ‘old Kanye’ has been touched on repeatedly, including by me, and Mac Miller fans often called for him to return to his dark and depressed Faces style before his untimely death. I feel it is unfair to expect an artist to keep their music exactly the same as how you have always liked it, as it means they have to limit themselves and inevitably become stuck in Groundhog Day; we would never have got G-Funk if Dr. Dre stuck with N.W.A, and we wouldn’t have got ‘Redbone’ if Childish Gambino never ventured outside of rap. These works highlight the positive progression from the aforementioned artists that defined their musical careers, helping them to reach their potential by stepping out of their tried and tested formula. However, some artist’s development can become so far removed from what was actually good about them originally that they almost become two separate identities; see Eminem and The Simpsons. Fans of the animated show actually coined the term ‘Zombie Simpsons’ to describe the show’s downfall around the turn of the century, as it was so different to its original innovative quality that they deemed it an undead reanimation of itself.

Whilst this is only one bad album from Chance the Rapper, the level to which it is so terrible - coupled with the direction into which he is taking his music - is a serious concern for his older fans. Yes his music still has a wide audience, but it caters for the lowest common denominator hip-hop fan and has abandoned the route that got him so critically acclaimed. Although the internet - in particular Anthony Fantano - has been particularly harsh on this album, it is definitely not too late to turn things around and get back on track. Nevertheless, if Chance the Rapper’s future is a continuation of laying down rhymes like ‘With her hair up in a bun, she surprise me with the lunch, she just tell me when it’s done’, with virtually zero effort or consideration for the listener, I’ll have to think of this version as ‘Zombie Chance’; a completely different person to the one who made Acid Rap but just so happens to share the same name.

2/10