Album Review: Dark Times by Vince Staples
Vince Staples's last album for Def Jam showcased his growth as a rap artist with melancholic observations about his life and finding moments of hope in the darkness.
Vince Staples is hard to grab. The 30-year-old rapper from California has always oscillated in his music since his first musical outing between the unsightly reality of the streets on which he grew up, classic gangster stereotypes, and the ironic break with all this back and forth. Even in his interviews, his witty and charismatic nature dilutes this duality between profound home-related traumas and a tough-guy persona where you never know how serious it is actually meant. Feeling every time Vince opened the door to his soul a gap wide, he struck two others in parallel.
Staples frequently raps about his experiences growing up in a rough neighborhood in Long Beach, California, in his songs and albums. He touches on the violence, crime, and gang activity that surrounded him and the impact this environment had on himself and those close to him. Rather than glorifying this lifestyle, Staples often presents it in a raw, unfiltered way to illustrate these issues’ harsh realities and cyclical nature. He continued experimenting with shorter albums before releasing his 2022 superb album Ramona Park Broke My Heart, culminating in the introspective Dark Times, his final album for Def Jam, where he revisited his upbringing in Long Beach, California, showcasing his evolution as an artist.
In the album’s lead single, “Shame On the Devil,” Vince explores themes of love, struggle, and redemption through a personal lens, which sets the tone for what direction Dark Times would sound like. The melodic boom-bap heavy “Black&Blue” gives us a peek into Vince’s inner world, full of conflict and raw emotions. He talks about his constant pressure, from people wanting him to fail to the ongoing struggle of living in a tough environment. He also misses those he has lost, giving a nod to influential figures and friends who have passed away. In “Children’s Song,” the follow-up track, he uses straightforward language to convey firm boundaries and personal priorities. The first verse reflects on his past, friendships, and street life, emphasizing his desire to move forward and not dwell on “back when,” while the last one delves into his personal space and boundaries, explicitly stating his schedule and privacy with a mix of humor and seriousness as Vince does on his album and his Netflix show, The Vince Staples Show.
With this album, the production is mostly handled by LeKen Taylor, along with hit-hitters like Cardo, Michael Uzowuru, J.LBS, Saint Mino, Frank Dukes, and many others. The piano-led “Government Cheese” offers a deeply reflective narrative that brings attention to the challenging circumstances of urban life. He structures his verses by juxtaposing personal experiences and broader societal issues. In the opening lines, Staples portrays a sense of hopelessness, conveying the high cost of minimal gains (“What that half-acre house in the slums cost?”).
In the album’s climax, “Freeman,” Vince Staples reflects on the transformation of his life from struggle to success. He speaks candidly about his past, where he prayed for a breakthrough and now dismisses lucrative offers that once seemed unattainable (especially since he’s now free from Def Jam). Staples uses imagery to highlight the disparity between his early dreams and his current reality, such as the line about turning his surroundings into an inspiration for the younger generation. He also addresses a fan’s admiration and her longing to see him achieve mainstream success, only to reply with a philosophical perspective on fate and ambition. He recognizes the limits of individual control and the larger forces at play in his life.
If you’re looking for something to dance to or something to knock in your trunk, “Étouffée” fits the description as he offers a portrayal of perseverance, loyalty, and the unbreakable bond with his community, all while questioning broader structures and reflecting on his individual journey within them under the Jay Versace, Mike Hector, and Whosantoine banner that later switches into a New Orleans bounce beat, making it one of the best songs of 2024. The same can be said with “Radio,” which brilliantly samples Marvin Gaye’s “Just Like.”
“Little Homies” gives off the summertime feeling with the help of Kaelin Ellis’ groovy uptempo beat. Staples advises the younger generation to chase financial goals and look out for their families, all while staying alert in dangerous environments that provide a mix of practical advice and personal reflections wrapped in a gritty but hopeful tone. His verses in “Nothing Matters” reveal themes of disillusionment and existential contemplation. There’s a critical perspective on societal structures likened to a puppet show, suggesting a lack of true agency, plus juxtaposes external admiration and internal emptiness, questioning the essence of maturity and confronting the superficiality of social media validation.
Vince isn’t afraid to show his storytelling chops. The laid-back “Justin” paints a vivid picture of a chance encounter with a woman from Qatar, set against a late-night Los Angeles backdrop. Staples uses conversational language to transition from surface-level pleasantries to deeper connections, highlighting a momentary escape into a potential romantic bond. This escalates into a suspenseful scene that juxtaposes potential dangers with vulnerability, climaxing in the revelation of an unexpected guest named Justin. In stark contrast, the outro returns to a cynical commentary on trust, punctuating the narrative with a reflection on deceit and reinforcing the thematic tension between hope and reality.
On Dark Times, Vince Staples, once again, fearlessly confronts subject matter that many other artists shy away from. His music provides a window into his world and the weighty issues he grapples with. You won’t find too many bangers on here compared to other projects, but most of the production is different as it’s boom-bap inspired with heavy drums as he grapples with the trauma and mental toll of the pain he’s witnessed and experienced. The recurring question, “Why won’t the sun come out?” on the closing track echoes a longing for clarity and enlightenment amidst the chaos. It’s a powerful acknowledgment of emotional and existential struggles, suggesting that the pace of life’s progression aligns with a larger, unknowable purpose.
Great (★★★★☆)
Favorite Track(s): “Shame On the Devil,” “Étouffée,” “Little Homies”