Even a broken clock is right twice a day. This is an old adage that means that even a dubious, unreliable, or flawed source can be a font of wisdom or have valuable information to share. Sources of wisdom don’t come much more flawed than Kodak Black, but on his latest album, Dying To Live, he still has plenty of it to share amid the stark trauma, redemptive hopes, and compensatory stunting. Under the right conditions, some of it even lands.
The reasoning behind Kodak’s flaws is well-documented at this point. The 21-year-old rapper has proven himself to be deeply problematic, dangerously misguided, and tragically institutionalized by the forces of inequality at work in American systems. He recorded his earliest, precocious material in a trap house. He’s spent almost the entire duration of his short musical career under arrest, in prison, or on trial, with the most serious of his many charges relating to the sexual assault of fan after a show. He goes on trial for that offense next spring; in the meantime, he’s drawn criticism for his reckless use of social media and his refusal to accept counseling for court-mandated anger management issues.
On the other hand, he’s been described by interviewers and journalists as “smart.” His music oozes intelligence and — on more occasions than some skeptics would expect — self-awareness. His biography details his autodidactic nature; while he was expelled in fifth grade for fighting, he says he spent his youth reading dictionaries and thesauruses to improve his vocabulary, which is often on display in his fluid, recursive rhyme schemes and at times, hyper-lucid feats of wordplay.
Despite the charges laid on his head (and those of similarly-reared rappers who found early success on Soundcloud) due to his sometimes mush-mouthed, Floridian-accented delivery, he’s as good a lyricist as any of his southern fellows, like a younger, higher-pitched, early Gucci Mane. His current success is as justified by his talent as it is hampered by his stubbornly self-destructive behavior. His mind is a finely-tuned instrument, seemingly irrevocably damaged by rough and careless treatment by both himself and the conditions in which he came of age.
That flawed-source principle about broken clocks relates as much to the product Kodak is responsible for putting out on Dying To Live as it does Kodak himself. While his lyrics are as affecting and self-effacing as ever, the delivery is marred by the flawed choices on display which betray even more of that trademark carelessness. It’s distressing that it’s also deliberate, by Kodak’s own admission; out-of-place features from Juice WRLD, Offset, Travis Scott, and even fellow Floridian Lil Pump are calculated bids for streaming relevance rather than extensions of any sort of viable chemistry. Even the songs that they feature on (“Gnarly” features Lil Pump, “MoshPit,” Juice WRLD, and super single “ZEZE,” Offset and Travis) sound more like the guest artists’ songs, relegating Kodak to feature artist status repeatedly on his own album.