Babyface Ray at ?The Studio at The Factory

Ray’s raps typically glide with the efficiency of cold steel, but between forced features, uninspired beat changes, and some ultimately half-baked ideas, his major-label projects have all had a handful of shaky moments. MOB deads that trend, standing as his most meticulous project yet. There’s little fat and just enough experimentation to showcase what Ray does best: bring his world of opulence and tragedy to life with a stoicism that would send chills up Ghost from Power’s spine. On “Wonderful Wayne & Jackie Boy,” he compares his strategic movement to that of Golden State Warriors forward Klay Thompson and claims he’s ready to “knock his shit off, Mr. Potato Head” before praying that his karma “don’t come back on my daughters” one song later on “Rap Politics.” Ray’s deadpan is surprisingly malleable, bringing dimension to his boasts and confessions without losing his distinct sound. His tone rarely changes but still sells the danger of popping Percocets while driving luxury cars (“Brand New Benz”), the humor in comparing his misanthropy to Tommy Hilfiger’s racism scandal (“Crazy World”), and the glamour of hiring a personal shopper (“Nice Guy”) with equal skill. At any given moment, he’s as funny, menacing, or benevolent as he needs to be. Every new Ray album has bits of incremental growth. He’s a little more thoughtful and a little more prone to flex that new Tesla and put on for the Motor City in the process. On MOB, Ray is more mature but unafraid to bask in what he’s earned, putting his skills to use on the most cohesive set of beats he’s rapped over since 2019’s MIA Season 2. In a recent profile with GQ, he admitted that he’s not competing with anyone in particular, just “trying to be the best for me right now.” What MOB proves is that good music and hard work can be their own self-fulfilling prophecy.

– pitchfork.com