\n<\/p>\n
\n\tDanny Brown<\/a> spent his last album, 2023\u2019s Quaranta<\/em>, in quiet contemplation. The record, named after the Italian word for 40, was a spiritual sequel to his breakout 2011 release XXX<\/em>,<\/a> and a conscious work of contrast. Where XXX<\/em> was zany and manic, driven by wacky punchlines and lurid stories of life as a drug seller and user in Detroit, Quaranta<\/em> <\/a>was downtempo and reflective. After a decade of making party music, the man who once bragged<\/a> \u201cbecause I\u2019m 32, I know how to do my drugs,\u201d began to question that narrative of control. Though the album was recorded before he went to rehab and came out after his stay there, Quaranta<\/em> captured with stunning clarity the doubts and demons that pushed Brown toward sobriety.<\/p>\n \n\tHis new album Stardust<\/em> is his first recorded without substances, and trades self-examination for affirmation. Over\u00a0staggering beats sourced from young experimental pop acts like Jane Remover, Quadeca, Underscores, and Holly, Brown narrates his newly clean lifestyle with beaming gratitude. Amidst the sparkly chaos of hyperpop, and the upbeat tempos of house and EDM, Danny Brown seeks to reclaim the fun that fueled the music he made under the influence. This is his take on recovery rap \u2014 12-step-core from an artist who was once once of hip-hop\u2019s proudest hedonists.<\/p>\n After opening with the moving \u201cBook of Daniel,\u201d a triumphant testimony set to soft rock guitar and piano, Brown plunges into brash electronics. It\u2019s a tricky play because Brown\u2019s not at all a stranger to these sounds. He\u2019s a longtime admirer of grime, grew up immersed in Detroit\u2019s ghettotech scene, and cut his teeth during the 2010s EDM boom, so multiple strains of electronic music deeply inform his delivery and style. Plus, Stardust<\/em> is his fourth album on storied label Warp, and before signing there he was at Fool\u2019s Gold\u2019s, which also mostly represents electronic artists.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tSo there\u2019s some familiarity to his flows and his beat selections, even as Brown remains a witty lyricist. \u201cDriving fast while she do it slow\/I\u2019m about to Busta, gimme me some mo,\u201d he says on \u201cGreen Light,\u201d a yearning team-up with sibling duo Frost Children.<\/p>\n And there\u2019s also the matter of Brown\u2019s music always having been confessional and layered. \u201cGotta get away, to escape, I smoke this kush to the face,\u201d he rapped on 2013\u2019s \u201cSmokin\u2019 and Drinkin,\u2019\u201d a song as anxious as it was revelatory. Darkness and desperation always lurked behind the gonzo decadence, a dynamic that\u2019s missing on the comparatively bright-eyed Stardust<\/em>.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tBrown\u2019s writing here isn\u2019t as consistently vivid as it normally is, and his affirmations grow formulaic. He makes a lot of perfunctory before-and-after comparisons: \u201cMade it out the dirt, trauma and hurt\u201d;\u201ctrauma I went through just made me stronger than ever\u201d; \u201cloving it, made it from the bottom but still thugging it.\u201d Brown doesn\u2019t need to detail his darkest days to make his sober present more resonant, but the repeated phrasing flattens his journey.<\/p>\n