The Singles Jukebox

No candy…

[Video][Website]
[6.86]

Jer Fairall: I keep wanting to like this guy, and given that he was central to one of the greatest songs of the decade, I suppose I already do, but “No Problem” is typical of too much of what I hear on his own records: sloppy construction and an adherence to lyrical concepts that do too little with his daffy charisma and charmingly off-kilter flow. He needs a sharper focus, and providing Wayne a space to commiserate over label woes is not what I mean.
[4]

Taylor Alatorre: Manages to turn record industry rabble-rousing and child abduction boasts into a theme song for a PBS Kids cartoon. The Weezy-Chano connection is a fascinating one to explore, but its impact is muffled slightly by the incongruous presence of 2 Chainz, which didn’t have to be the case. He and Wayne released ColleGrove earlier this year as a respite from the latter’s Cash Money woes, and by all accounts the two share a genuine and lasting friendship, so there’s no excuse for traveling the well-worn “run shit like diarrhea” route. But this is only a delay in the song’s momentum, not a derailment. Just treat the 2 Chainz verse like the hip hop status symbol it is, and focus instead on the unshakable charisma of the label-averse co-stars.
[7]

Cassy Gress: 2 Chainz’s verse is the problem (but a small one), due to the way it’s sandwiched between two smooth, floaty rapped/sung verses by Chance and Lil Wayne, over a track that sounds like kids jumping in puddles in alleys on a scorching summer day. 2 Chainz isn’t as committed to following the metronome as they are here, and the way there’s a pause followed by the bass unexpectedly on the offbeat starts the verse off tripping over its shoelaces a little bit. But he pulls it together real quick with the Petey Pablo reference and “Where the hell you get that from? / Yeezus said he ain’t make them“.
[8]

Gin Hart: Damn, they phoned it in. Chano and Tunechi are ordinarily modern marvels of high energy whiny-yet-sexy weirdo singraps, but that shine is slimed over with autotune and sluggish with halfhearted verses. Even the production feels uncanny, like they took an Acid Rap instrumental and held it underwater for several minutes in hopes it’d come back ironborn (it didn’t). Still a great sound, but waterlogged, and unfortunately also the best part. It honestly feels as though they went easy to protect 2 Chainz’ feelings as their artistic lowest common denominator. 
[6]

Alfred Soto: What a crowded mix: that choir and Chance’s pitch-altered wheeze, irritating on their own, create one insistent din. Wayne’s verse is a glass of sweet tea with moonshine. 
[5]

Anthony Easton: The repeating chorus is almost as interesting as the overlapping, processed chorus, both feeding into a formalist cri de couer of personal and professional independence.  One of the things I love about Chance is how difficult it is to tell those two narratives apart — he continues to be an artist whose message is remarkably synthesised. 
[9]

Ashley Ellerson: This is the Chicago sound that makes me miss home most. This is the sound I blast through the Southside with my best friends in my mom’s Toyota Camry (one day I’ll get my own car to drive around; for now we share). Most musicians I know share the same sentiment as Chance — labels better back off. There’s an appeal and advantages to signing with a label, but there’s nothing like having your own creative control to make honest music with whoever you desire. Chance and crew are having fun on this cut, but don’t forget that it’s a threat too. Chicago musicians are not to be crossed.
[9]