Clipse
Let God Sort Em Out
ROC NATION
It’s been a long time since their shaky third album, 2009’s Til the Casket Drops, but the Clipse brothers Pusha T and Malice are finally together again after 16 years. Their fourth album Let God Sort Em Out arrives with a full-court press of PR, even including a Tiny Desk Concert on release day. The blitz was warranted, since the songs stand up fairly well as an assured re-up of the duo’s rap powers, in spite of a sometimes-lukewarm reimagining of Pharrell Williams’ Neptunes-era production prowess.
Pusha T and Malice have centered their raps around “’caine and guns” since their classic debut Lord Willin’ in 2002, with Pusha being influenced as a kid by Miami Vice’s white brick-slinging villains. Yet his output with Clipse and the albums he’s released since going solo proved he was deeper than that with his subject matter and sharper with his pen than most rappers of his era. Malice was always more of a storyteller, often pulling from scripture and movies in equal measure. Yet their long-awaited return opens with a conversation about their parents in a sober reflection after their passing within a few short months of each other—an emotional starting pistol that may surprise longtime Clipse listeners. The brothers rarely get this raw with their emotions, which makes “The Birds Don’t Sing” such a marvel beyond the soaring hook supplied by John Legend. These birds don’t just rap, they cry in pain, too.
Pusha opens the record by mulling over his last exchange with his mother, and it melts the heart down into a vapor. As Mama Thornton shares deep thoughts and memories with her son, Pusha is too preoccupied with his phone and thoughts of meeting up with Kanye West at Elon Musk’s house. His lines are smeared with heavy guilt: “You even told dad y’all wished you never splitted / See you were checking boxes; I was checking my mentions.” Malice recounts an even more harrowing tale about finding his father’s body. He gets reflective about his father wanting the best for his sons and still coming up short: “Mine made sure he had every base covered / So imagine his pain, finding base in the cupboard.”
Clipse have thankfully not lost a shred of their wit and punch on these “culturally inappropriate” tracks. The featured vocalists on this project’s high-gloss minimalism often step to the side or let off a quick clip before giving the brothers space again: Tyler, the Creator simmers on his midtempo “P.O.V.” verse; Stove God Cooks simmers more than shimmers before Clipse grab the wheel again on “F.I.C.O.”; Ab-Liva plays in the cocaine “snow like Rudolph” for “Inglorious Bastards”; and Nas unleashes the “panther me” on the back half of “Let God Sort Em Out/Chandeliers” (even love master The-Dream sings like it’s the late-’00s again for a quick bite at the relevancy apple for the nocturnal club crawler “All Things Considered”). One brilliant exception comes from Kendrick Lamar on the flex-on-the-competition marathon “Chains & Whips,” wherein he jokes that he owes back cash to Rakim for his lingering influence.
Across Let God Sort Em Out, Malice rolls up to the mic again like no time has passed. His lines are a little more surgical and measured since dropping a pair of Christian rap albums in the interim, but even a few pre-9/11 pop culture dud lines on early single “Ace Trumpets” or the electronic gospel slush mix “So Far Ahead” can’t keep this rap god down. Pusha T continues to steal the show and prove that whether it’s a Clipse reunion or another solo venture, he can’t be stopped. As a duo, Clipse make sure Let God Sort Em Out is another potent and competent joint feature. What the album may lack in pure surprises, it balances out with a curatorial spirit for collaboration and memorable moments. The Thornton brothers are making their family proud.
