Playboi Carti has evolved constantly since leaving Atlanta’s Awful Records for Harlem’s A$AP crew. Rather than reinvent himself again, he uses MUSIC to merge all his past eras into one chaotic, 30-track explosion. He embraces both his brilliance and flaws channeling SoundCloud rawness, Die Lit’s energy, and Whole Lotta Red’s maximalism. He blends Kanye-esque myth-making, Travis Scott theatrics, and Future’s degeneracy with Atlanta nostalgia. The album doesn’t follow a clear direction but instead throws everything at the wall—sometimes sticking, often overwhelming.

Carti leans into excess, bouncing between wild experimentation and bloated overproduction. He builds tracks like “Crush” with long build-ups, only to drown them in recycled sounds and overdone features. On “Evil J0rdan,” he delivers sharp bars but buries them in a needlessly long intro. When Carti focuses—like on “Like Weezy” or “Opm Babi”—he channels his unpredictability into thrilling, chaotic moments. But across much of the album, he rushes ideas, piles on layers, and loses focus, leaving behind tracks that feel half-baked or misplaced.

Carti loads the album with big-name features, but few add value. Travis Scott, The Weeknd, and even Future coast through their verses, while Kendrick Lamar awkwardly tries to match Carti’s offbeat style. Carti shines more when he experiments freely, as on “Walk” or “Crank,” where he flips obscure beats into something loud and bold. MUSIC may be messy and overstuffed, but Carti stays locked into the sound, using his instincts over structure. In its wildest moments, the album captures his rawest, most uncompromising self yet.