Album Review: Star Line by Chance the Rapper
Within the hip-hop artist circles, Chance has long since built up a steady following at this time, and Star Line seems poised to be the next turn for its creative experiments in lived experience.
Chance the Rapper’s story starts with discipline. After a 10‑day suspension from high school for possessing marijuana, Chancellor Bennett took to making a record. He recorded his first full‑length project, 10 Day, while still a student. The mixtape, rooted in hip‑hop, cloud rap, and jazz rap, featured fellow Chicagoans Vic Mensa, Sulaiman, and Nico Segal and production from Peter Cottontale, Chuck Inglish, and Flying Lotus. “There was a lot of acid involved in Acid Rap,” Bennett admitted. The statement stresses how his second mixtape channeled psychedelic experiences into music rather than autobiography. “There was a lot of acid involved in Acid Rap,” Bennett admitted. The statement underscores how his second mixtape channeled psychedelic experiences into music rather than autobiography. The music reflects that ethos: slinky basslines and live horns wrap around stories of addiction, romantic nostalgia, and Chicago violence. His sing‑song delivery stretches across beats with a looseness that feels improvisational yet meticulous.
Fatherhood changed the stakes. After learning his partner was pregnant and later discovering his daughter’s heart condition, Bennett said the baby “brought my faith back.” On Coloring Book, he leaned into that faith. Produced by his group, the Social Experiment alongside Lido and KAYTRANADA (which should’ve been his true debut album), the tape features contributions from Kanye West, Young Thug, Francis and the Lights, Justin Bieber, 2 Chainz, gospel legend Kirk Franklin, and the Chicago Children’s Choir. He didn’t call it “new gospel,” as he insisted it was simply music from a Christian man coping with imperfections. His debut studio album attempted to score his wedding day. Built around the sounds and emotions of matrimony, The Big Day leaned on an even larger cast of collaborators and veered between jubilant jams and sprawling medleys. The abundance of guest appearances and genre shifts left some fans disoriented, and the project was widely panned, a criticism that would linger in Bennett’s story. The album’s uneven structure reflected an artist experimenting with musical theatre‑like interludes, skits about marital bliss, and heartfelt pledges to his wife. The backlash strained relationships behind the scenes: Bennett later had a falling‑out with longtime manager Pat Corcoran, leading to legal disputes, and his creative confidence wavered.
After The Big Day, Bennett retreated from album releases but not from music. Over the next few years, he shared stand‑alone tracks that hinted at different directions. “Child of God” was accompanied by a collaboration with artist Naila Opiangah and felt like a meditation, “Wraith” teamed him with Vic Mensa and producer Smoko Ono for a nimble bar session, and “The Highs & the Lows,” a duet with Joey Bada$$, celebrated fortitude (which it made it on to this record). These songs surfaced as he worked on a project initially called Star Line Gallery. The title referenced both Marcus Garvey’s Black Star Line shipping company and Bennett’s desire to blend music with visual art and community events. In April 2023, Bennett released “Buried Alive,” a spare, organ‑driven track where he addressed his divorce, his fallout with his former manager, and the criticisms he had faced in recent years. It’s a far cry from the jubilant choruses of Coloring Book; instead, he sounds haunted yet determined. The decision to rebrand the album signaled a reset—away from the grandiosity of The Big Day and toward something rawer.
What do these breadcrumbs tell us about the impending Star Line? First, the singles point to introspection and re‑evaluation. By addressing the end of his marriage and professional rifts, Bennett signals a willingness to critique himself, but also details the Black community at large. That being said, his second release is one of the biggest surprises that hip-hop has to offer since Tha Dogg Pound’s W.A.W.G. (We All We Got). Listen to the passion he raps on “Letters” (arguably one of his best songs to date) on institutional hypocrisy, particularly within the Black church and broader religious institutions. He is direct yet poetic on a haunting soundscape with piano and bass, weaving between personal loss and societal critique. Chance uses sharp wordplay when he questions authority: “Who told you your gossip could be louder than your shout?” With “Pretty,” he balances lyrical complexity with simplicity in delivery. He writes personal affirmations and deeper introspective musings. He plays with double meanings, where he blends the literal glow of a ring light with the metaphorical idea of seeing himself in a more positive, almost heavenly light.
Bennett carries a sense of emotional weight on “Link Me in the Future,” playing with irony when he says, “The world’s on fire girl you marrying a snowman.” The contrast between fire (chaos) and snowman (something fleeting or fragile) suggests an inevitable end to even hopeful unions. Another standout metaphor comes when he reflects on death: “I heard grief is love in a thunderstorm/And death is really nothing different from the norm.” These lines give grief an elemental force—like weather—and suggest that death has become so common it feels routine. In “No More Old Men,” his rapping is steeped in nostalgia and cultural reflection, using vivid imagery to evoke a sense of loss for the older generation's wisdom and presence. With the help of Jamila Woods, his use of double entendres (“They used to rub 'em on their hair that they can’t grow back”) simultaneously refers to physical aging (losing hair) and emotional nostalgia (losing touch with youth). It speaks to how time strips away both physical attributes and cultural touchstones.
The follow-up track, “The Negro Problem,” serves as a historical reference, evoking W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept of “the problem of the color line,” and Chance uses this as a thematic anchor to explore systemic issues faced by Black communities. BJ the Chicago Kid works wonders on this song, interpolating “Sweet Love” by Anita Baker, while Chance blends in commentary on healthcare disparities: “More clinical trials, more chemicals/For our women their symptoms seem cynical.” He points out how medical racism leads to dismissive treatment of Black patients’ pain. In terms of production (DEXLVL handles majority), the soundscape complements the weighty themes with an ethereal blend of gospel-inspired harmonies and soulful instrumentation. The use of soft keys and layered vocals creates a meditative atmosphere, allowing listeners to absorb the gravity of Chance’s words fully. There’s a certain melancholic beauty in how these elements interact—subdued drums provide rhythm without overpowering the message, while choral backing vocals add emotional depth.
The recurring motif of water on “Just a Drop” symbolizes basic human needs, but it’s also a stand-in for justice, resources, and dignity. Chance compares the scarcity of essential resources for marginalized communities with the abundance enjoyed by others—“just enough water to cook with” versus “enough water to drown in.” The imagery extends beyond water into land: Chance speaks of needing “just enough land to stand on,” evoking displacement and gentrification. He uses simple, almost biblical language (“porches and stoops”) to ground his critique in everyday life, making it more relatable. Jay Electronica shifts the lyrical focus toward religious allegory and historical oppression, drawing parallels between ancient injustice and modern-day persecution, which extends into contemporary politics when he suggests that today’s prophets or truth-tellers would be branded as radicals or hate groups by governments and social media platforms.
Tag teaming with Vic Mensa, “Back to the Go” carries a heavy emotional weight, uniting personal anecdotes with broader themes of homecoming and self-discovery. Chance frequently uses metaphors that highlight his transient lifestyle and struggles with identity (“I made a mistake, I lost a home/Not like a mortgage but more like a foster home”), and Vic also uses his clever bars that speak to wealth disparity (“Ain’t no taxes on the wealthy/I’ve been eating vegetables more broccoli celery”), applying duality reflects how material success doesn’t necessarily equate to personal well-being. “Speed of Light” and “Speed of Love” offer two different parallels. The former features BJ the Chicago Kid once more and LION BABE, which revolves around light as a symbol of inner potential and spiritual illumination. The instrumentation is airy and almost celestial, built on soft synths and layered harmonies that evoke a sense of weightlessness. The latter is a reflective track that intertwines personal anecdotes with broader musings on fame, love, and life’s pace. With “Speed of Love,” Chance uses this track as a canvas for exploring personal growth amid external pressures. As Jazmine Sullivan provides great singing and harmonies, he reflects on how fame has altered his relationships and personal experiences, often using understated but effective writing.
When it’s not heavy on themes and content, “Gun In Yo Purse” with Young Thug and TiaCorine and “Drapetonia” with BabyChiefDoIt are 808-laden slappers that don’t help the album thematically, but it’s alright if that’s the sound you’re into. “Space & Time” has this insprational feel with the choir helping Chance feel sincerity within the singing and “Burn Ya Block” is sparse yet heavy, built around eerie synths and upbeat, subtle percussion that give the track an ominous atmosphere, but it distracts from the message about what Chance is rapping, a literal threat and a metaphor for upheaval—whether that be societal unrest or personal reckoning. There’s a sense of tension throughout the instrumental, which mirrors the simmering anger in Chance’s delivery, so maybe it works for some, but there’s a disconnect. However, nothing on this album is worse than “Tree,” the second single from Star Line, which is simply another cut-and-paste weed anthem, making it forgettable with a halfway decent Lil Wayne feature, but Smino is wasted. The positive note is that “Ride” has Chance and Do or Die (yes, THAT Do or Die) gliding over One Way’s “Don’t Stop (Ever Loving Me)” that is a late contender for ‘Song of the Summer.’
The album’s social commentary is not stapled on in interludes or speeches. It comes through in how he places Chicago voices next to diaspora language, how he picks features that carry history rather than trend math, and how he keeps returning to equity and care as writing targets. Putting Do or Die on the board is a simple way to honor a local canon that built melodic street music long before he broke nationally. Bringing Jamila Woods into the set promises a counterweight of clarity and tenderness. The choices say he wants songs that can live at block parties, church parking lots, and gallery openings without changing their meaning for each room. Personal life shows up only where it sharpens the point. Chance has already said the last few years forced him to rethink how he moves, and recent interviews make it clear that the new work is written with that reality in view. The writing does not ask for sympathy. It asks you to hear how faith, co-parenting, and community work can sit inside a rap album without softening the edges.
What makes Star Line the surprise of the year is not a miracle reinvention. It is the quiet discipline of the choices. A sample (or an interpolation) that carries a known argument about Black self-worth. Production that favors space so the writing can breathe. Features that extend a Chicago family tree and connect it to a wider map. A release plan that cuts down the distance between artist and audience. Put together, those decisions give Chance a platform to talk directly about money, love, safety, and legacy in Black communities without losing the bounce that first drew people in. The result is an album built to travel because the concerns it raises travel too, and because the songs keep the door open for listeners who want to dance and think in the same week.
Great (★★★★☆)
Favorite Track(s): “The Negro Problem,” “Letters,” “Speed of Love”