Mac hit a rough patch just as quickly as he took off, though. I won't go into too much detail, but he had a change in artistic direction after turning to promethazine to help deal with 2012's Macadellic tour, facing allegations of using a Lord Finesse sample without permission on a mixtape song, and just to top it off, Donald Trump came after him after Mac's hit single of the same name gained millions of YouTube views. Miller's been able to handle the situation well, knocking the harder drugs, avoiding any real trouble with Lord Finesse, and I'm fairly certain got came away unscathed from the Trump issue. The crucial move came with a change in scenery, though, as he moved away from his hometown of Pittsburgh in favor of hanging with Odd Future and TDE members in Los Angeles. Last year he dropped Watching Movies with the Sound Off, a tape riddled with flaws, but creative flaws, the type of risks you look for in an artist looking to change his public perception. From the self-produced hazy instrumentals, to his terrible singing, it was totally organic, weird as hell, and quite frankly, it made me wonder where he could possibly go next.
Not including his Quasimoto impersonating Delusional Thomas tape (which completely missed its mark), the answer to that last question is Faces, a nearly 90 minute mixtape that re-establishes Mac Miller as a druggy philosopher on the mic and a left field talent behind the boards. Now I'll tell you right now that the project is way too fucking long, but if you have the time and are genuinely interested in Mac's life, this is a goldmine. Gone are any songs that could possibly be placed on his K.I.D.S. tape, and in are introspective, dark cuts. On these songs, Mac is firing on all cylinders, especially on "Happy Birthday", as our host contemplates how to spend his birthday while the rest of the visitors, who he knows doesn't give a shit about him, party through out his house. He follows with "Wedding" another un-characteristically downer of a song, as Mac tries his hardest to convey his faults to his girlfriend and explain why he isn't good enough. As great as Mac's lyrics are on these songs, he still remembers what got him poppin' in the first place and he perfects that sound early on in the tape, with "Here We Go" (arguably one of the best songs he's ever recorded) and "Friends". Hell, he even offers another outlook on doing drugs, an activity largely associated with his persona, on "Angel Dust", which alone separates him from the guy peddling kiddie-pool deep rhymes about drinking 40s in front of the police just two years prior
Bare with me here, but Miller dispenses his Ghostface-esque rhymes (there's times on here where he's rhyming about absolutely nothing, and I love it) over an opus on cloud rap instrumentals. He handles a large portion of it himself, and Mac's musical experimentations gradually move forward throughout the twenty four songs, creating clearly identifiable sections, while keeping an a stoner vibe on each track, making for a remarkably cohesive mixture of songs. It's an appropriate landscape for Mac to spew his emotions, and do as he pleases. The general sound of the allows him to fade in and out of singing ("Colors and Shapes" shows his somewhat improved vocals, but the songs is ultimately still pretty damn good thanks to the awesome baseline) and tell stories without creating too many awkward situations.
The hazy sprawl of Faces is obviously tough to digest in one sitting and Mac Miller simply still lacks the skills to carry a project for 90 minutes, but my biggest issue actually comes with the stacked feature lineup. The lone two guests that connect are Earl on "New Faces", where he delivers the most alert verse of his career, and surprisingly enough, Mike Jones (no clue what he was thinking there), who nicely plays into the story. I don't know what to make of the rest, though. On "Polo Jeans" Ab-Soul arrives for the lone purpose of saying "soul", ScHoolboy Q mindlessly repeats "Miller, Mac" on "Friends", a track I still really like, and even worse, Mac designates the magical baseline of Thundercat to a fifty-five second interlude. This all climaxes with Rick Ross' atrocious verse on "Insomniak", where he really stresses the imagery of him standing naked with a chopper. Again, some of these songs are still alright, but I'm at a loss as for why Mac chose to limit the talent surrounding him.
In comparison to his work four years ago, Faces is a quantum leap in artistry. It's not without its faults, as the final few songs run together, the general length of the tape is too long, and uninspiring features hold it back from being a masterpiece. Still, this is his best effort to date, and with three more albums ready for this year, it's not out of the question that one of them reaches "great" status. Above all else, though, Faces answers the question that Loaded Lux ruthlessly proposed on the end of last years "Red Dot Music": "Who the fuck is Mac Miller?" Mac Miller is an artist tired of being associated with the frat scene, and more concerned with making his own unique brand of stoner rap that goes beyond wakin' n bakin'. A rapper that deserves none of our hate.
3.5/5