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A true hustler, Lucas Foster sends work emails from church.
At his best Carti brings you to an ethereal plane of suggested melancholy and shimmering visions of flexing with an icy cool distance separating Jordan Terrel Carter, the man, and Playboicarti, the disaffected, terminally cool mirage he can conjure and contort at will in his music. His work is completely deterritorialized, scrubbed clean of context, its tunnel vision is focused on imputing a sentimental melodrama into five word sentences that mean the world without saying much of anything. This has been true since “Broke Boi” declared his arrival, and in 4 years nothing has changed. It follows that to consume his music avidly is to navigate through a constant stream of leaks that open up that portal he has discovered in random and disorganized Soundcloud streams and .mp3 files. Amongst all those hundreds of loose files, this is perhaps the finest Carti leak that has ever seen the light.
Carti was born to shine on this glistening Oogie Mane production (though this leak is unofficial, it seems to be sanctioned by Oogie and the Working on Dying crew, and it is a signal that Oogie is slowly transforming to a multifaceted superproducer) and he reaches that zone, that cosmic and divine space immediately, elevates Gunna by lending him a flow, and stays there for 4 minutes. “Monday Through Sunday” reaches a crescendo when Carti announces “I just left the mall – RIP” in its penultimate moment, and everyone who listens knows.
