SKI MASK THE SLUMP GOD Stokeley / LP NEW VINYL / Republic 2019

Ski Mask the Slump God is “runnin’ around the city in a toga eating noodles”; he’s as sharp as “baby alligator teeth.” Flipping the pages of his debut studio album, Stokeley, is a thrill because at no point can you predict what’s coming next; its energy is the only constant. In unambitious hands, this could be exasperating, but Ski Mask skillfully navigates the constant flux. A vast database of pop-culture references injects sparks into an expansive album that is heavy on flash and light on substance. It works, for the most part.

Ski Mask isn’t as much an artist as he is a vessel channeling the voices of a horde of souls. He croons like a drunken uncle on the porch, screams choruses like he’s shaking off a straitjacket, and raps as dizzyingly quick as Twista—all sometimes on the same track. He came up on Busta Rhymes, Missy Elliott, and Jamaican music, so this isn’t a surprise. Hailing from Florida, he was the best friend and frequent collaborator of the late XXXTentacion, who also sat on the outskirts of traditional rap. Ski Mask’s debut album was created with XXXTentacion’s approval in mind and builds on the strange mannerisms that Ski displayed on his long-delayed May mixtape Beware the Book of Eli.

Stokeley’s production feels plucked from the farthest corners of the multiverse and, along with Ski Mask’s voice, plays into the constantly morphing atmosphere. Album opener “So High” pairs soothing, clean-toned guitar with a lazy 808 while Ski Mask gently trills as if he should be strumming a harp. “Nuketown” deflects attention from a mid-tempo, bass-heavy beat and allocates it to his jittery cadence. Each song feels like its own world. “Adult Swim” and “Far Gone” share stylistic similarities in their beats, but Ski Mask’s flow is a shape-shifting rap delivery on the former—he slurs his words and finds power in the resulting clumsiness—and a more restrained, melodic singing style on the latter.