Huncho Jack, Jack Huncho (HJJH), the first collaborative LP between trap heavyweights Quavo and Travis Scott, can be aptly summarized by its opener, "Modern Slavery." Immediately wheeling out a warm, reverberant Otis Redding sample, the track sets the stage for something grandiose, a promise doubly reinforced by its evocative title. It quickly becomes apparent, however, that all is for show: The sample's simmering soul is quickly shoehorned into an aimless loop before Quavo appears in limp Auto-Tune, giving up on rhyme entirely with the clunky "Never been food for sharks/Wrist like fins on dolphins." There is little to salvage here, as the track's remaining two minutes are rolled out with utter tedium, a boiling pot of bland Auto-Tune, freestyle writing, and static loops.
What "Modern Slavery" demonstrates so aptly is the album's core failing, a lack of focus. Despite some excellent musical frameworks and concepts, the pair put no effort into utilizing them to create great music. Yung Lean's ethereal opener on "Dubai Shit" is quickly discarded for a monotonous 4-note beat, while the gloomy production of "Motorcycle Patches" is thrown under the bus by Scott's tuneless "fuck shit up, we fuck shit up." This fundamental lack of care is equally reflected in the album's writing, arguably the worst of either artist's career. While trap is hardly renowned for poetry, HJJH's content is markedly poor: phrases like "wait for the swag to unlock" are cringe-worthy, while "We was tribe, Navajo/We was real, Jack and Jill/Like the pill had awoke" is just nonsensical.
Although a punchy delivery could mask this significantly sub-par writing, the pair opt instead for a humming Auto-Tune, slathering their verses with robotic filters. While this works to their strength in the atmospheric layering of "Moon Rock" and "Where U From," for the most part it further lobotomizes the tracks, gutting them of any variance or flair. Even "Best Man," a dedication to the pair's close associates, is delivered in an emotionless daze.
The album's redeeming moments come mainly at the hands of Scott; when he's able to adapt his cadences to suit production needs, his choruses grant the verses a fundamental momentum. The sticky hooks on "Saint" and "Black & Chinese" propel their verses forward, with Scott inhabiting infectious pockets in the beat to allow the pair to rattle off flows with ease. It is Scott who provides the album's sole gem, too, in the brooding "Moon Rock." A reminder of Scott's mixtape material, the track's stabbing chords and layered strings give the beat a hazy, gothic atmosphere reminiscent of Days Before Rodeo. While Quavo brings the energy throughout his final verse, it is Scott's gloomy tales that steal the show: "know that you n*ggas never liked me/Know that you n*ggas sit beside me tryna slide on my side piece" is delivered with perfect disdain.
Yet for the brilliance of "Moon Rock," HJJH remains an exercise in disappointment. While moments of excellence occur in many of the project's tracks, the album's drawling vocals, static song structures, and Auto-Tune overkill doom it to failure, creating a lifeless project that verges on parody. This is a cobbled-together effort, and it shows.
© David Crone /TiVo