A Familiar Sound, and a Famous Family Recipe

Release date: May 29, 2026 | Jamla, Fat Beats
Apple Music | Spotify

Halfway through 2026, few albums have provided me with more eager anticipation, and more satisfaction upon release, than Vince Staples' Cry Baby. So when I saw a few weeks back that Friend of SE Dylan Green had reviewed it for Hearing Things, I immediately clicked over, expecting, as usual, to have all my opinions validated, and my finely honed critical taste steadfastly affirmed. Well reader, it was not. While maintaining a positive and even admiring view of Staples as an artist, Dylan's verdict on the album was clear (and withering): a mostly undercooked effort at political provocation, dragged down in particular by the datedness of its punk-inspired production. In its closing, Green writes bluntly: "There’s nothing here I can’t get from more groundbreaking fusions by Kenny Mason or FearDorian."

To a lesser extent, the same thing happened again last week, when another rapper I've occasionally enjoyed, Chris Patrick, got a third-degree torching from SE contributor Anthony Seaman (of The Linx), on the occasion of his Freshman appearance on XXL. Similar to Green's read of Cry Baby, Anthony argued that the total lack of novelty in Patrick's work outweighed whatever virtues might be found within: "There’s nothing here you haven’t already heard before by more interesting, more skillfully adventurous, and more charismatic figures. Whatever you think the best J. Cole song is, imagine the absolute most boring alternative to it."

These aren't totally unfounded judgements; even a diehard for Vince Staples or Chris Patrick should be able to see where they're coming from, even if they won't agree. But both had me thinking about innovation in music—what defines it, and to what degree it should be a deciding factor in what we deem as having artistic merit, and what we don't. Also, when the inspirations for a given work are clear, what separates gimmicky pastiche from something more like rebirth or renewal—given new life, simply by virtue of being performed by a new person?

Those thoughts were on my mind as I finally got around to spinning THE ZENITH, the duo project of producer JADA (aka Jada Douthit, the daughter of 9th Wonder) from Wake Forest, and rapper S14H (pronounced “Siah”), from Fayetteville, last week—an album that I'll just come out and say, I really enjoyed. That said, those seeking an experience wholly unlike anything they've heard before may not be as enthused. As progeny of living legend producers goes, the sound here is hardly North West eschewing the chipmunk soul that made defined her dad’s early sound and instead embracing the glitchy distortion of Carti-indebted modern “underground” rap. On the contrary, with its crackling soul loops and boom-bap drums, THE ZENITH is unabashedly reminiscent of something 9th might’ve made himself (while he's credited here as executive producer, JADA is solo producer on the album's 15 songs).

Given this not-far-from-the-tree sound and the producer-rapper duo dynamic, it obviously calls to mind the earlier, five-album run of 9th Wonder & Murs—so much so that when Murs himself shows up on "GOLDEN SOUND," it hardly comes as a surprise. Having appeared mostly out of the blue (he has almost no prior work listed on DSPs), S14H is more than up to the task on the emceeing side, evincing not only a way with words but a bounty of stories to tell (as opposed to a seemingly hollow desire to be a rapper for its own sake). Still, to an exacting critic, it may all add up to something less than remarkable: a legend’s offspring doing a familiar rendition of family source material, rather than flipping it into something entirely brand new. But damned if this isn’t one of the smoother listens of the year so far, and a convincing statement by two young NC artists—of clear capability, if not quite earth-shattering innovation just yet—who've set a solid bar with their duo debut.

Also Notable This Week:

Necessary Pressure, Freedom x Dallasito - I'd be remiss if I didn't touch on Freedom, a 252 artist who'd somehow evaded my attention until what felt like everyone I know started posting about this album when it came out earlier this month. After spinning it multiple times, I can see why. While not every single song lands for me, the overwhelming feeling is someone in full command of what they're trying to say and how, from extended storytelling concepts to clever wordplay from line-to-line. Fair warning: you will soon have the early-song tag "It's the Creators Club" stuck in your head for days to come.

SEBASTIAN, by Saul Goode - Geographically on the move quite a bit over the past decade (a topic addressed on SEBASTIAN), Saul Goode has ended up as a true IYKYK presence with regards to Triangle hip-hop. If you've been around long enough, you know him from shows and work with mainstays like Well$ (now Leroy) and even bringing artists out to his one-time home base of Seoul, South Korea as part of the duo act Part Time Cooks. Still, the 919 bonafides are undeniable, as he attests to on the song "Ya" ("It's Jooselord, Well$, G Yamazawa, me"), among others. With tracks here that often feel of a kind with brooding, R&B-inflected hip-hop acts from SiR to Little Simz, it's a personal but inviting EP that represents Goode's best yet, and feels like exactly the project he intended to make.