Album Review: Unlearning, Vol. 2 by Evidence
Evidence invites us to witness unlearning not as a step backwards but as a deliberate act of renewal, turning pain, routine and memory into a sound that feels grounded and daring.
Evidence released Unlearning, Vol. 1 at a moment when introspection felt like an act of survival. Instead of a grand thesis or a conceptually tidy narrative, the record burrows into fragments of daily life. In one verse, he remarks, “It’s after dark, I got the flashlight, my dog’s barking at the past life,” using an image of nocturnal wandering to hint at the uneasy conversation between memory and movement that animates the album. That tension is at the heart of the unlearning process. Here, unlearning is not about discarding everything you know, but it’s about peering into habits until you locate the ones that no longer serve you. Evidence builds his songs out of these reflections, letting each line sit for a moment before doubling back to reassess it.
Returning with Unlearning, Vol. 2, the questions had changed, but the process remained the same. The break patterns, airy soundscapes, rethink routines, and search for meaning in the margins. The first volume set that course by turning everyday observations into lessons without lecturing, by proving that reinvention is not a one‑time event but a continuous practice. It is the sound of an artist inviting us into his workshop and showing that growth often happens not in grand gestures but in the small decisions made when no one else is around. The sequel affirms Evidence’s relevance in a scene that often fetishizes youth.
The production highlights that tension between familiarity and disruption. Evidence surrounds himself with beatmakers who can conjure smoke without losing definition: Sebb Bash’s “Seeing Double,” C‑Lance’s nostalgic “Top Seeded,” and Evidence’s own eerie “Greatest Motivation” are cited as exemplary backdrops. These beats are dusty yet immersive, drawing from boom‑bap tradition but adding warped textures and ambient crackle so that no track ever feels like autopilot. Even the choice of contributors—The Alchemist, Conductor Williams, Graymatter, QThree, Sebb Bash, Beat Butcha, and Coop The Truth —reflects a desire to blur eras rather than pay homage. Throughout, Evidence’s voice remains the anchor; he cuts through the haze with clipped consonants and unhurried internal rhymes, showing a veteran’s comfort but also a willingness to sit with discomfort. Hypnotic loops give it cohesion, yet small variations in drum swing and sample choice keep it from turning into background music.
Several songs stand out not because they serve as “singles” but because they illuminate the album’s preoccupations. In “Plans Change,” he confronts the fragility of routine. Over a beat with no superfluous ornamentation, he raps, “No jacket is required, get used to it/Plans change, meanwhile I’m wired,” a couplet that pairs everyday images with a sense of perpetual readiness. The song rejects the idea that his life follows a predictable arc; it acknowledges sleepless nights and missed dinners, hinting at the sacrifices behind his stoicism. “Outta Bounds” flips that introspection into defiance: “E‑V enough of making beats, I’m back to spitting/If my backs against the wall, I call it back to living.” Here, he resists being pigeonholed as a producer by recommitting himself to the mic. “Nothing to See Here” wrestles with the passage of time—“Only way to do it is to send it/Only way to spend time is to spend it”—and plays with repetition as if to mimic the clock. “Nothing’s Perfect” adds another layer to this theme, with the rapper admitting, “I write my best when I’m late to be/Somewhere else the game is taking me,” turning tardiness into a creative tactic and acknowledging the pull of the industry’s schedule.
Another sharp observation follows: “My neighbors buggin’ when I get to bumpin’/Take a sample from a record make it into something.” This line on “Stay Alive” paints a picture of him working late into the night, turning old records into new art through sampling. Blu steps in seamlessly over production that feels warm yet melancholic. The beat itself features soulful vocal samples stretched across laid-back drums and atmospheric textures that create space for introspection. Domo Genesis appears on “Favorite Injury,” bringing his own perspective while maintaining continuity with Evidence’s reflective tone. The beat is slow-burning and atmospheric, built around soulful vocal samples that loop gently over laid-back drums. Evidence runs through rings suggests obstacles or challenges, while standing firm shows determination even before victory arrives: “Running through the ring or standing when you plan to win/Still water isn’t shallow what I’m landing in.”
Evidence often layers his lines with understated dual meanings. For example, with “Future Memories,” when he raps, “Trojan’s lost to Bruins, made the music and I lost illusions,” he references a sports rivalry between USC (Trojans) and UCLA (Bruins), but it’s more than just a local nod. It symbolizes how competition or loss can strip away false perceptions (“lost illusions”), leaving him grounded in reality. Larry June may not be everybody’s cup of tea, but he brings a different energy through confident luxury talk blended with personal discipline. “Define Success” thrives on understated complexity lyrically and sonically. Each bar reveals layers upon closer listening—from metaphors about vulnerability under pressure (“without a canopy”) to nuanced reflections on legacy versus vanity (“tagged Vain but wasn’t about vanity”). Every element works together seamlessly toward defining success not as external validation but as inner clarity gained through experience and reflection.
For Evidence, progress isn’t about dwelling on what came before—it’s about focusing on current actions and future potential, and the record’s most outward‑looking moment arrives when Evidence cedes the spotlight to long‑time collaborator The Alchemist. With “Laughing Last,” a recurring theme surfaces again when he repeats: “It ain’t where you from, it’s where you at, so don’t include the past.” This reinforces living in the present moment rather than being defined by history or origins. On “Rain Every Season,” the producer-turned-emcee fires off a verse built on playful bravado: “Rain every season is traditional/They go insane every time we release the physical.” Evidence answers with measured humility, his verse less about bragging than about endurance. The chemistry speaks to a partnership that stretches back decades—Evidence has said in the past that he writes to The Alchemist “’cause others don’t inspire me.”
Across the album, there is a clear through‑line where grief and growth cohabit the same bar. The songs are not structured like straightforward narratives but rather collections of observations that accumulate into a portrait. Evidence’s lines work like brushstrokes—sharp jabs rather than sprawling scenes—and his voice holds space for contradictions. He revels in the joy of collaboration and yet conjures solitude; he acknowledges pain without dissolving into confession. The album’s sequencing is unobtrusive; instead of building toward a climactic moment, it maintains a steady pulse, each track feeding into the next like a meditation. That restraint allows the listener to focus on the subtle ways the music evolves—how a hook disintegrates into ambient hiss or how a drum pattern switches to half‑time mid‑verse.
By refusing to coast on reputation, Unlearning, Vol. 2 affirms Evidence’s relevance in a scene that often fetishizes youth. The record’s smoky production and introspective lyricism give it a cohesive mood, yet its small deviations—unexpected beat drops, guest verses that broaden the horizons—prevent it from feeling static. In the end, the album’s real accomplishment lies in its paradox: it is the work of an artist secure enough in his craft to dismantle his own habits. Evidence invites us to witness unlearning not as a step backward but as a deliberate act of renewal, turning pain, routine, and memory into a sound that feels both grounded and daring.
Great (★★★★☆)
Favorite Track(s): “Define Success,” “Stay Alive,” “Laughing Last”