The Crossroads by Cordae | Album Review
a storytelling rap canon display
In my hometown, there’s a school where the kids that are repeatedly disciplined are corralled, fashioned with metal detectors and teachers unafraid of both the stigma that comes with its student body and handing out the discipline these kids had so often already received. It felt very penal despite being an education center and the kids always came back to general population more jaded than ever.
The prison-industrial complex feeds off of these kids that are at both the literal and metaphorical crux in their lives, hence the name for the school — Crossroads. Cordae’s newest album, The Crossroads, takes place at a junction in his career, one that determines the trajectory of the rest after a good but not great sophomore project that spoke in-depth on the aforementioned complex. Unlike a majority of those unfortunate constituents of Crossroads, Cordae redeems himself from a project he knew wasn’t his best work.
Where From A Bird’s Eye View was good technically with rhyme scheme and beat placement, it lacked the sentimentality and verve, the personal conviction, to match the immense energy of his debut, The Lost Boy. Nothing brought me back to that album since its release. But The Crossroads reembarks on the trail of humility without the croons for pity or piety. Cordae is at his strongest when he tells his story, rather than expounding on another’s or speaking to some universal truth.
This is immediately evident in “06 dreamin’” where Cordae floats over a sample of one his mother’s songs, the subject of the song, as he details coming up with an artist at the head of household. The tales of American Idol and Making The Band pull at the modern struggle of musicianship in the early 2000’s. Cordae’s wishful thinking was so infantile — he was probably only around 10 at the time — recalling potential MTV Cribs episodes and wanting to be fly. It’s a dream we all had, especially if you grew up eating off paper plates and lived off hand me downs as he details. The infantilization here is so effective because he is currently successful, that memory of impoverishment is almost nostalgic.
Cordae is elite at converting nostalgia into competent and eloquent rhyme schemes. Perhaps the best song of the selection, “Summer Drop,” a classic tandem track with Anderson.paak, one of his favorite running mates, takes advantage of some classic images. Fubu and fools gold, lifted impalas with hydraulics, and Cordae’s summer job at the barbershop elicit memories of a dirty south summer. The hot, humid heat of North Carolina radiates off the glass of the shop and the harsh sun glints off spinning rims.
The duo have an unmatched synergy in their limited productions together. The alternating verse is almost a transaction of styles, but they marry so well that there is no net loss, only profit. Their drawls carry out over the hard p consonant through the track — “Pussy poppin' where the churches pentecostic,” (Genius) — creating one of the more inventive and catchy tracks of the album. If the kickback was a voice, it’d come in the form chill rap over the deep thrum of bass that inundates each verse of this track. Combine this with J.Cole’s production on each collaboration between the two, they catch lightning in a bottle over and over again.
Reminiscent of his The Lost Boy days, Cordae falls back onto a totem in his work — his faith. Gospel choirs and piano and organ keys float alongside his easygoing voice in “Nothing’s Promised.” Reminiscent of tracks like “Bad Idea,” from his debut, the mellow tunes have started to become a trademark for both Cordae and the producer of each of these tracks, Bongo ByTheWay.
I’m not a huge fan of Ty Dolla ($)ign so his track here (“Pray”) just feels redundant and a bit out of place considering the tracks before and after it. Same goes for “Now You Know,” the less Cordae solely sings, the better. This is covered up much better in The Lost Boy.
Ravyn Lanae and Jordan Ward, two of the best up and coming R&B talents take Cordae’s repertoire to the next level. This R&B approach isn’t as tired as the Dolla Sign feature (please stop making Vultures albums) and it was interesting to see Cordae truly mellow out to some of my favorite croons in a minute. Jordan Ward is elite at those quick, mellow hooks and choruses and Ravyn Lanae has this uncanny ability to tweak her super pitched voice to any beat line. The raspy whisper of her voice, the strong clarity of Ward’s, and with only one verse from Cordae, it almost felt like it was an R&B song with a rap feature rather than the other way around. Easily one of the best song on The Crossroads.
I’ve considered Cordae one of the best lyrical rappers in the game since his debut, but he doesn’t always get the critical acclaim he is capable of. Like Kevin Durant, Cordae is considered perennially a top five talent that happens to reside in one of the most fruitful eras for elite rappers. But you know he’s good for it, and the resume will stand the test of time.
Speaking of basketball legends, the last generation’s Allen Iverson, Lil’ Wayne provided a classic verse on “Saturday Mornings,” a track that feels like one Wayne would’ve slid on two decades ago on a Sorry 4 The Wait or Carter tape. Despite being past his prime, Wayne still delves deep into his classic wordplay style well enough to be efficient. If one legend weren’t enough, Kanye provides another cosign in the following track, “No Bad News.” Cordae captures a bit of Ye’s style with that hanging lilt at the end of his rhymes. Listening to this track feels like waking up in 2008: the president is black, and at the end of the day, everything will be okay.
Over and over I’m impressed with the coolness of his delivery. At times the raps can be corny, aided by the slight lisp and goofy face. But the ingenuity of tracks like “What Really Matters,” aided by that pounding bass, add to his ever humble image. Combine this with cool rap supreme, Joey Bada$$, on “Syrup Sandwiches,” and you have one of the better rounded albums of 2024. The chorus feels loose enough to echo the sentiment of early Earl Sweatshirt and the production is grimy enough to not write it off.
I could go on and on about the intricacies of this album, what’s good and bad but we’d be here all day. I’m just glad he got a chance to redeem himself when afforded the chance. The crossroads of his career lied within this album both literally and metaphorically. He comes out (mostly) unscathed. If he flopped here, the outlook might be a little different but I believe that Cordae is here to stay.
Rating: 8.9/10
Favorite Tracks: Summer Drop, Mad As Fuck, Don’t Walk Away