At the beginning of billy woods’ verse on Armand Hammer and the Alchemist’s new song “Dogeared,” a woman asks him a straightforward but weighty philosophical question: “What’s the role of a poet in times in like these?” If anyone would know, it’s woods. Meandering through dazed Middle Eastern synths and his own troubling thoughts, he turns forlorn subway rides, late night smoke sessions, and fried eggs into a mosaic of subtle, encroaching despair. It’s a prison of ironies hidden in plain sight: You tuck your kids into bed as the craft you use to pay for their sheets is under attack. Lovers search for love in dimly lit wine bars where they can’t see each other. Out of towners double park at the club before a night of thrills that are as temporary and conditional as safety. But the rain keeps pouring. At least today. And billy’s got nothing but time to search for a resolution, an expedition he continues on Armand Hammer’s latest album, Mercy.
For the album, the duo’s second with the Alchemist, tension, existential dilemmas, and mundanity are contentious neighbors, and Elucid and woods just happen to live on the same floor. So does the Alchemist, who supplies the ambiance for tracks that shift between everything from nocturnal reflections (“Crisis Phone”) to nostalgic delirium (“Super Nintendo”). Together, the sounds and ideas swirl into something claustrophobic. On the opener “Laraaji,” Elucid lets loose existential one-liners that hit like consecutive mic drops. “CocoRosie, codeine trippin’, a home with no heat/ Grandmaster Flash gave me a job/ Coon storage, the room is live,” he snarls over a track that sounds like Jimi Hendrix jamming during soundcheck. woods echoes the intensity with a portrait of a world where normal rules have evaporated and the globe is at once too hot and too cold. If Kanye and Jay had “No Church In The Wild,” this one’s “We’re In The Desert Where There Was Never Church In The First Place”; a desperate scramble in a universe where morals are the scarcest resource.
On “Nil By Mouth,” the trio shifts from psychedelic rock to celestial jazz for a meditation that drifts rather than attacks. Here, woods and Elucid pile literary references at a nearly incomprehensible rate. Only woods could fuse James Baldwin, Madiba, and Geneva name-drops in the same verse — except, well, Elucid, who one-ups him with nods to Iran Contra, Rod Strickland, and Helsinki. The disparate allusions could make the verses collapse under the density of it all, but instead, they lend them dimensionality that connects identity to a struggle that spans eternal. “Baldwin in Paris, my mind wanders, y’all might need a visa/ Don’t lose yourself out here, it’s finders keepers,” woods raps, with Alchemist’s whirring bassline and faint wind chimes serving as a spacy atmosphere for listless soul-searchers.
That exploration continues on tracks like “Calypso Gene” and “Super Nintendo.” For the former, the two play with the idea of impressionistic memories, using imagistic details to pull you into scenes from their childhood. But the second verse scans as a cousin to Fela Kuti’s “Water No Get Enemy” — a geopolitical analysis framed in metaphysical poetry. When combined with layered choral vocals and church piano, it somehow also becomes a prelude and aftermath to spiritual catharsis. On the latter, the two skitter through a Zelda sample that feels like a gloomy ice cream truck as drunken nights and old raps become a portal to a more innocent past.
Brooding and intellectually ambitious, Mercy follows the tradition of 2023’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips and is just a tinge darker sonically than their previous Alchemist collab, Haram. Like all of their previous efforts, Mercy proves the duo’s gift for exploring the quiet tragedies in daily existence. They don’t pretend to have any grand solutions to dealing with an increasingly nihilistic world. By the time the lady from “Dogeared” returns to hear woods’ response her question about a poet’s purpose, he barely has an answer: “I said, ‘I’m still grappling.'” It’s arguably a non-response, but his journey to that non-resolution is its own answer, an analysis that fuels nearly every Armand Hammer album. The same is true for Mercy, an LP that’s as meticulous as it is mercilessly human.
COLD AS ICE
Chuckyy – “Different Day”
Chuckyy’s been my guy all 2025, and “Different Day” only reinforces that.
Bushy B – “Meet Me In The 305”
A stylishly smooth tune that just makes me wish I really could head to the 305, at least until March or so.
De La Soul – “The Package”
I didn’t grow up a big De La fan, but their earnestness and the general sharpness of their rhymes 30-something odd years into their career is inspirational. In case you were wondering: They’ve still got “The Package.” Peep the evidence here.
Ken Carson – “Yes”
Ken Carson previewed this one back in April, and honestly, if it were on his last album, it’d be a top three song. I’m tough on bro, but this shit’s pretty hard. I’ve muttered the hook to myself a lot since Halloween.
Redveil – “Lone Star” – (Feat. Carolyn Malchi)
A luminous, playful, and confident track I like almost as much as “Brown Sugar” with Smino. Redveil’s latest effort, which he’s producing himself, is called Sankofa, and he’s dropping it Dec. 4.
G Herbo – “Blitz”
It feels like G Herbo’s 2025 has somehow gone under the radar, but his new album, Lil Herb, and specific tracks like “Blitz” are more proof some people gotta wake up and give props to another young Chicago legend. It’s cool to see him encourage his son to embrace his own sensitivity. It’s cool he’s turned his life around. But hearing Herbo talk that killer shit will always be one of my favorite pastimes.
Danny Brown – “Copycats” (Feat. Underscores)
Danny Brown’s new album is weird, but the hyperpop fusion is actually a lot of fun when meshed with his technical proficiency and lithe vocal tone. There are other cuts I like on the LP, but I somehow slept on this a bit when it first dropped.
