Album Review: No Validation by Ché Noir & The Other Guys
Ché Noir moves from the external to the internal, mirroring her evolution as an artist and individual, packed with lessons learned and lessons taught, delivered through dope rhymes and soulful beats.
Ché Noir collaborates with production duo The Other Guys to create an album, No Validation, that thrives on authenticity and lyrical craftsmanship. Across eight cohesive tracks, Ché Noir’s husky, controlled flow glides over soul-infused boom-bap beats, delivering hard-earned wisdom and personal storytelling without a hint of filler. The opening track, “Incense Burning,” immediately sets a meditative tone. Over a mellow backdrop, one can practically smell the “incense burning and wine and some music,” Ché Noir reminisces on her journey from childhood. She shares intimate flashes of her upbringing (“a nerdy kid in the hood, watchin’ Dragon Ball Z”) and roots in the South, all while flexing a poised, reflective delivery. Jack Davey’s subtle hook (“I think I found my tempo…”) reinforces the idea that Ché has found her groove, matching the track’s laid-back, introspective vibe and showcasing her early-on vocal control and confidence. It’s an understated opener that draws the listener in with mood and sincerity rather than flashy theatrics.
With “Smooth Jazz,” the album’s energy kicks up a notch. The Other Guys lay down gently swinging drums and, fittingly, a jazzy undercurrent, creating a cinematic contrast to the gritty boasts in the lyrics. Ché Noir’s pen is razor sharp here—she fires off clever metaphors about her come-up (“Life’s a book, it’s all good till you hit Chapter 11”, deftly likening life’s turmoil to bankruptcy) and humblebrags about recent success (“Just copped a house… Got my degree from discipline, ain’t go to school for class”). Her vocal control shines as she rides the beat with a measured, confident cadence, never rushing even as she packs in dense rhymes. Veteran emcee 38 Spesh joins for a guest verse that bleeds authenticity; his hushed, gritty delivery complements Ché’s, as he recounts survival in the streets and the pain that came with it (“You gotta go through hell to reach humility”). Herknack for narrative and life lessons comes to the forefront on “Sugar Water.” Over what seems to be a soulful, mid-tempo beat (the title itself evoking childhood poverty and sweetness wrung from struggle), she delivers two verses of autobiographical brilliance.
By the time we reach “Moroccan Mint,” it’s clear The Other Guys have built a consistent vibe, each track distinct yet part of a unified atmosphere. This song continues the jazzy, mellow thread, perhaps laced with vocal chops (true to its title’s tea-sipping calm). It’s a clinic in sophisticated wordplay. Her pen never wavers; even as she packs bars with internal rhymes and allusions (from anthropology studies to Jill Scott’s soulful influence), her delivery stays calm and in-the-pocket. The featured guest, Jae Skeese, matches her energy with a vivid verse of his own. He unleashes agile wordplay (boasting he’ll go “Jackson Pollock” on a blank canvas) and reinforces the album’s themes of breaking generational curses and building solid foundations.
The album’s centerpiece, “Katastwof,” is a tour de force in raw lyricism and collaboration. Over what is likely one of the album’s harder-hitting beats, Ché Noir is joined by Skyzoo and Ransom—two highly respected wordsmiths—and she absolutely holds her own. In fact, she opens with one of her most revealing verses, reflecting on being overlooked early in her career (“a late bloomer in this game, they wouldn’t give me a chance”) and now thriving on her own terms: “Now I’m a fertile seed surrounded by the industry plants.” Her verse brims with intricate rhymes and honesty about personal flaws (she admits her standoffish personality “held my career back”) even as she asserts her worth.
Skyzoo follows with characteristically smooth-butter wordplay, dropping layered metaphors and clever references that warrant rewinds—he riffs on blindfolded “geeks” with closed eyes, sports imagery, and the hustle of being a ghostwriter behind the scenes. Ransom then closes the track with an absolute heater of a verse, spilling street wisdom with elegant phrasing. He moves from visceral (“Whose blood is spilled when a savage eats? … a lavish feast” he muses, mixing violence and luxury) to philosophical: “I put the guns down ’cause the art of war is the masterpiece” he intones, signaling growth beyond the streets. Ransom’s matured outlook (“Can’t add no days to your life, so just add some life to your days”) resonates powerfully, underlining the album’s through-line of finding enlightenment through struggle.
Following that peak, “Dollar Tree” switches up the vibe with a conceptually rich twist. The production likely leans soulful and upbeat here—fitting, since the track centers on the idea of finding wealth in simplicity. Ché Noir’s verse is all about living below your means and valuing longevity over flash. She casually notes her “net worth six-figures, still shopping at Dollar Tree”, a line that encapsulates the song’s theme of modesty and smart living. There’s pride in her voice as she stresses lessons learned: save for a house instead of buying chains, balance the economy of self, and break generational curses. Von Pea’s guest verse keeps the concept rolling, injecting wry humor and perspective; he questions society’s narrow visions of success (“they steady trying to tell us jump shot or the rock/Like that’s the only way a [brother] ever got off the block”) and shouts out the grind of “street entrepreneurs.”
The introspection reaches new heights on “Ego Trips.” This is Ché Noir at her most candid and self-critical, essentially a solo moment (aside from DJ Eveready’s contributions on the cuts). The beat feels stripped-back and moody, allowing her words to take center stage. She uses a measured, slightly somber tone to dive into the emotional toll of her ambition: “It’s hard to relax on these ego trips that I take on myself,” she opens, immediately setting a confessional mood. She flips the narrative by verse two, reaffirming her independence and grit. She proudly reminds us that she turned down label deals to remain her own boss, making “five figures off a Bandcamp” hustle and ensuring no record label could ever steal from her. Fittingly, the final track, “Susie,” feels like the culmination of all that came before. Her pen game is on full display, stacking metaphors and double entendres effortlessly: she’s “a street poet” with “sleek flowin’, refocused” energy, “just a wolf that paid my dues, now I’m shopping for sheep’s clothing”—a witty flip on the wolf in sheep’s clothing that underscores how she’s earned her success the hard way. Smoke DZA’s guest verse provides a laid-back but gritty counterpoint; his smooth flow talks hustler tales of moving weight and staying ten toes down, adding a final dose of street bona fides to the album.
Ché Noir and The Other Guys made a cohesive statement piece that rewards those who listen intently. The album’s conceptual structure is subtle but present: it moves from the external (surviving the streets, building success) to the internal (self-reflection and personal growth), mirroring Che Noir’s evolution as both an artist and individual. Throughout, her vocal performance is steady and commanding; she can be contemplative, celebratory, or scathing as needed, all while maintaining tight control over her cadence and breath. This chemistry between the rapper and producers gives the album an aesthetic cohesion often missing in today’s playlist-driven landscape. No Validation resonates most with hip-hop fans who value substance over flash. Che Noir speaks directly to those listeners—the ones who find inspiration in authentic storytelling and appreciate the craft of a tightly wound internal rhyme. The record’s very title is a declaration of independence from trends and approval: Ché Noir doesn’t need validation from the industry, and that freedom has allowed her art to flourish. With the summer reign in hip-hop in 2025, as she stands on her “next level” with confidence, you can’t help but feel that No Validation is a win on her own terms. It’s an album that challenges you to grow with the artist, packed with lessons learned and lessons taught, all delivered through pristine rhymes and soulful beats.
Favorite Track(s): “Katastwof,” “Dollar Tree,” “Susie”