A 7 track album running little over 20 minutes is perfectly fine, it's 2018.
Pusha paints pictures more vivid than a Picasso with a lyrical masterpiece of an album. Kanye West is a genius. Pusha delivers what we all expected, he's best solo work to date, a magnum opus if you will. There's the usual talk of selling cocaine, which might come across as same old, but Pusha is an expert at making every listener feel like Pablo by now.
The chemistry between Pusha T and he's frequent collaborators, Rick Ross and Kanye West is a perfect marriage of continuity. There's nothing for the radio though and in this age, that's perfectly acceptable. That doesn't detract from the album at. The last minute cover art is a stroke of genius by Mr. West.
Pusha T is a veteran at this point and shows it in adopting Jay's observational skills on some tracks, none more so than on the closer Infrared. He takes shots at Drake, Wayne and Birdman and comes out looking better for it, coming out unscathed by all the boardroom and legal challenges of the industry. He even salutes Ross for bringing Baby's exploitation of Wayne to light.
The term classic is thrown around so casually now, especially in an age of here today gone tomorrow, but this writer will be enjoying this for a long time.
