Rap is often about contradiction, of wanting to stay humble and true while still stunting. It's a track that best distills Meek's singularity hurt oozes from his voice and words, illustrating rap's literal and spiritual roots. On the opening title track, he raps unabated for nearly four minutes, tracing lines from his come-up in Philly to strip clubs in Miami and back, over a beat that morphs into menace halfway through. His music channels pain, anger, empathy, and glee into a wave that hits immediately and forcefully, especially on the album's first two songs. It is tense and dramatic, with variations of piano constituting the bedrock of the album and Meek rapping passionately even by his own standards. After navigating that push-pull, Meek Mill has emerged with an album that is distinct in both voice and sound and also plays to his strengths. So maybe Dreams and Nightmares is something to celebrate, even though it's imperfect. But this is still a thin line for artists to walk, one so difficult that good-to-great major label rap debuts now feel like a minor miracle. Waka Flocka Flame was smart enough to capitalize on his timing simply by turning a proposed mixtape into a debut album, and, most recently, Kendrick Lamar used his unwavering artistic vision to essentially subvert this game entirely. Cole have made better, more accessible versions of the early songs that first got them buzz, and Nicki Minaj plays both sides of the field. His understanding of rap as a vocal performance his ability to summon powerful emotions his combination of vulnerability, bravado, and a storyteller's sense of character and time-well, shit, those are all the hallmarks of a great rapper. Maybe it only all coheres in flashes, but if Meek Mill works best in bursts, then so be it.There are exceptions. It reminds you why you loved the guy in the first place: He accomplishes more with the sound of his rapping than other rappers do with entire albums. Diddy, his voice sounding destroyed, offers a weirdly unguarded monologue, and Meek sneaks gut-check details like "we started off as kids, stomach touching our ribs" in a sing-song patter. Ostensibly riffing on a familiar rap trope-rebuking family and friends who turn on you once you taste success-it gains depth through little details, and ends up feelin more like an introspective testament to youth. And "Cold Hearted" is a surprisingly touching closer. The '70s exploitation flick vibe of "Stand Up," featuring an indelible two-line cameo from DJ Khaled, is another stylistic switch-up on the album's back end. It also keeps in line with the idea that a brief blast of Meek is the best way to experience Meek. Meek has allowed these artists to "take the lead" on these tracks, and the album is better for it, because it opens the record up and gives Meek breathing room. In fact, the album's biggest highlights are its biggest departures, from the druggy "Jump Out the Face" with Future (which would fit nicely onto 56 Nights), to "R.I.C.O." featuring Drake, and even "Bad For You" with Nicki Minaj. "Classic," a typically nimble, bouncy, Bangladesh track, is an atypical Meek move: he's rarely if ever sounded so airy, clean, fun, bright, and it's a good look. He's still rapping hard-hitting lines like "Shout-out the judge that denied me my bail/it made me smarter and it made me go harder." It's a great song, even if it can't match the bar set by "Dreams and Nightmares."
Opener "Lord Knows" lays a Tory Lanez hook and a typically fraught Meek vocal performance atop sample from Mozart's Lacrimosa movement from his Requiem in D, a tip of the hat to how epic "Dreams and Nightmares" remains but also as a hedging of bets: Nothing could realistically top his first intro, so they reached all the way back to Mozart for a fitting backdrop. However, Dreams Worth Than More Money is still a few clicks better than his debut, because it feels like Meek Mill is taking risks. And I'm not even sure if 14 "Monster"s is sustainable or desirable.
Recent non-album single "Monster" is an incredible song, but I can't imagine it being on this album it's too concentrated. Every few months, Meek drops an incredible single, or an eyebrow-raising feature, reinforcing the idea that his music works best in short blasts, harnessing his energy and expending it all at will. His mixtapes are often long and scattershot, while still containing at least a half dozen keepers, and his first album, and now the second, suffer a similar fate. The "for five minutes" qualifier is an important distinction: Meek's intensity is both the key to his appeal and his Achilles Heel.
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