It’s easy to mistake songs like “My Type of Party” and “Girls On Stage” as profound if you’re only listening to the contemplative beats behind them, but Dom is really just swirling flashy non-sequiturs. Dom mostly raps in the kind of slow, lazy flow you hear in off-the-top freestyles. It’s no surprise that the best songs are the ones with the can’t-go-wrong guests, namely Freddie Gibbs and Kendrick Lamar.
Instead, you’ll find Dom’s style – summery, saliently ignorant brag rap – which largely falls short of serviceable, but actually works well a couple of times. You’re not going to find a verse on Dom Kennedy’s Yellow Album that you can wave at your English teacher as a validation of rap as a scholarly pursuit. French Montana’s ear for melody, Waka’s energy, and Jeezy’s Trapability® are all counterweights to the argument that a rapper, or to use a more lofty title, an MC, is one whose motherfucking brain is IBM compatible. We make all manner of excuses, some more valid than others, for rappers without technical skill.
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