Image via Future/Spotify
The Bay Area doesn’t sleep, and neither does Yousef Srour.
Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if Future had emerged in a post-TikTok landscape. Would we have dismissed his whistling and his ad libs as sound bite bait for influencers to memeify and dance to? Would “Mask Off” be considered overplayed after a month of silly memes and elementary school students still learning how to play the recorder? Would “Throw Away” suffer the same fate as “12 Stout Street” by Rx Papi, with social media personalities (or lack thereof) voyeuristically leering at his pain instead of appreciating its tortured genius?
MIXTAPE PLUTO answers this question by introducing yet another three-project run into his discography. Future doesn’t need to top his 2017 FUTURE/HNDRXX run, swapping SUPER SLIMEY with Young Thug for MIXTAPE PLUTO. And then that streak couldn’t top the canonical Beast Mode, 56 Nights, and DS2 streak of 2015. He’s at the crossroads that all greats eventually face: do you want to risk it all by constantly reinventing yourself and alienated your core fanbase, or would you prefer to refine the singular lane that you’ve already created.
MIXTAPE PLUTO chooses the second option. This is Future’s seventeenth mixtape, and we have over a decade’s worth of Future raps about flexing, fucking, and coping with his substance (ab)use. Future isn’t in the market to redefine himself. He’s simply doing what he’s good at. Future fans will assuredly be satisfied, but if he’s fighting for your attention as a casual rap fan, this probably won’t go down as a “classic.” MIXTAPE PLUTO may have more dynamic production than WE DON’T TRUST YOU, but as a self-proclaimed mixtape, it lacks Monster’s fatalistic introspection, it disregards 56 Nights’ element of surprise, and it neglects Beast Mode’s impetus.
Although MIXTAPE PLUTO’s namesake serves as a reminder of Future’s legacy as Atlanta’s most prolific, most inimitable artist, the project bears a striking resemblance to FUTURE. It’s his first featureless, full-length project since his self-titled album, and sonically, it’s an entire compilation’s worth of “Rent Money” and “Super Trapper,” mixed with the ad libs from “I’m So Groovy” and Future’s feature run with Lil Yachty.
On the other hand, DY KRAZY from 808 Mafia went on Instagram to claim that MIXTAPE PLUTO was “56 Nights Part 2 Type [Shit],” and as someone who believes that sequels rarely live up to the original, I’m inclined to agree. Each song on the mixtape feels like a new iteration of 56 Night’s “No Compadre,” from the bombastic beat to the digestible chorus. The production on MIXTAPE PLUTO is even more raucous and the 808s variably batter through his instrumentals more than ever. However, MIXTAPE PLUTO doesn’t sound like a mixtape. For all intents and purposes, this is a cohesive album, with more tracks than 56 Nights and BEAST MODE combined; the mixtape moniker only lowers the stakes, despite the vinyl box sets and the pre save links and a rollout that has had just as much press as his albums with Metro Boomin.
At a listening party at Sony Music on the Tuesday before the mixtape’s release, I walked into a conference room with a pink backlight and 42 chairs – only two of which were occupied. The expansive room reminded me of the album art presented on an easel in the front, had it been set in the daylight of a bright Los Angeles afternoon. The picture of Rico Wade’s Atlanta home in the dark moonlight goes unaddressed yet the fuchsia glowing from inside the brick-and-mortar house pierces the corner of my eye. It’s in memory of Future’s late cousin whose basement launched the careers of OutKast, TLC, Goodie Mobb, a young mixtape-era Future and the rest of the Dungeon Family.
The hors d’oeuvres were exactly what I’d expect Nayvadius DeMun Cash to have on his rider list: four different flavors of wings and plastic cups with pre-poured champagne. His last name is yet another source of luxury; Wilburn is the surname he’s passed onto each of his children, but as of 2018, Future legally made Cash synonymous with his identity.
To be clear, Future was not there. He wouldn’t have fit in at all. As I sat down in my Oakland Raiders Marshawn Lynch jersey, I felt out of place myself. No one rocked their head while the music played. Hell, I was taking notes and still couldn’t control my shoulders from bouncing to the beat.
You don’t understand “Turn On The Lights” unless you’re moving through an epilepsy-inducing haze of strobe lights, searching for the girl that told you she would make it to the club before the end of the night. The champagne shouldn’t be pre-poured, the bubbles shouldn’t have settled, the wings shouldn’t be room temperature. Corks should be flying, appetizers should be served on a silver platter, and I should be on my feet dancing as single dollar bills fly around me.
Future is one of the last few rappers who could supply the music industry with an “event album,” but as I sat amongst thirty-something empty seats, I’m reminded that we’ll be discussing another album in about a week. Anticipation is a thing of the past; excitement is reserved for PR firms; the act of going to a listening session, even for one of the biggest rappers in the world, is so boring that even one of the biggest names in hip-hop media showed up late and no one batted an eye. No one even recognized him. He munched on chicken wings in the corner for thirty minutes, brooded on a stool for two songs, and pulled an Irish goodbye with a couple songs still on deck. I was as enthused about the mixtape as I was about the room it played in.
With MIXTAPE PLUTO, Future has now released 59 songs released in a span of six months. His goal doesn’t seem to be to flood the market with music. It’s a genuine work ethic and the masterful construction of an architect building new worlds. His collaborations with Metro Boomin, including “Superhero,” the title track from HEROES & VILLAINS, and the orchestral title track on WE DON’T TRUST YOU, sound expensive and polished. His past two albums featured respective superstars, from The Weeknd to Travis Scott and Kendrick Lamar, but in the same vein as 56 Nights and Purple Reign, MIXTAPE PLUTO is an isolated endeavor.
Without the support of A-list guests, does Future have the ability to strip himself of late-stage careerisms and return to the insular moments that defined how his fans perceive him? The vulnerability is still there. WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU is a near-perfect homage to luxe ‘90s R&B, HNDRXX and his figuration as hip-hop’s heartbroken Prince on Purple Reign.
At almost 41 years old and 4% body fat, MIXTAPE PLUTO reminds us perhaps we shouldn’t be treating Future’s music as an outright confessional. The syrup in his Sprite is far more diluted than it once was. He’s trying to give us what he thinks we want. In reality, we miss the solemn bravado of the man who made “Selfish;” the man who spit in the face of the industry and came out even stronger: “Tried to make me a pop star and they made a monster.” Now, Pluto is the pop star rivaling Katy Perry’s release date, and nine years after the fact, he’s about to go number one again.
Even so, I fear that Future’s strict trap music has become slightly too predictable. Audemars. Baguettes. Percocet. Oxycontin. “Sippin‘ drank and Actavis on some Screw type shit.” Future’s music has become an endless stream of “Type Shit.” The songs are admittedly incredible, but the sheer quantity makes the work blend together, forcing most fans to pick and choose their favorite songs, passing through songs that don’t stick within their first three listens.
As a concept, even the title of MIXTAPE PLUTO has the effect of his self-titled. This new mixtape should allegedly be Future as he was: the man who defined 2010s Atlanta trap, the man who showed us that toxicity can be a means for survival, where he’s become too hardened to take his guard down; the man who still performs the second half of “Throw Away,” begging Ciara, “Go fuck that n—-, get it over with.”
As I sat there, waiting for someone to pick up my NDA, I tapped my pen against my notebook and asked myself: is MIXTAPE PLUTO a return to form or is this an homage to the nihilistic iconoclast we lost? Will this be just another uninspired attempt to return to the glory days, rehashing a past that has already been tried?
As I revisited the two projects he released less than six months ago, Future clearly still has something to rap about. The closing track on WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU’s first disc, “Red Leather,” confronts the melancholy attached to a lifestyle unfit for monogamy. He has seven children with seven different women, Ciara laughs at the idea of Future being a co-parent, and yet yearning still laces his voice as he croons, “Forever’s not long enough.”
The difference between WE DON’T TRUST YOU and WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU is more than just trap versus R&B – it’s braggadocio versus sincerity, power versus weakness, strength versus flaws. R&B Future works so well because he’s not a perfect singer, and as listeners, we feel comfortable around the guy who will interpolate “End Of The Road” by Boyz II Men and honor us with the original hook from Drake’s “Feel No Ways.” Future fits into our world because we can appreciate his imperfect perfection.
The Super Trapper’s versatility is undeniable. MIXTAPE PLUTO recognizes that Future’s best work comes from an insatiable urge to experiment. Where WE DON’T TRUST YOU sacrificed bizarro beat placements for overall cohesion, MIXTAPE PLUTO allows for new producers to refuel Future’s sound with strokes of rage music, post-tread drum patterns, and a refined use of electronics that lacquers his early mixtapes’ soundscapes.
“SURFING A TSUNAMI” is mixed like a Hans Zimmer score for a Cristopher Nolan movie, with an ambient orchestra drowning out Future’s voice as he tries to ride this kahuna of a beat. “OCEAN” skates on synthesizers that remind me of the retro futuristic Drive soundtrack. Even the 808 Mafia-assisted “BRAZZIER” sounds like a clipping manifestation from Ken Carson’s compilation of horror stories.
The obvious standout on MIXTAPE PLUTO is the drumless “LOST MY DOG,” where Future unravels his grief to pay his respects to the friends he’s lost at the behest of Fentanyl. The affecting core of the project parallels “Feds Did a Sweep” on FUTURE. He grapples with survivor’s guilt as he reminisces about the death of his unnamed loved one – possibly a tribute to Rich Homie Quan, given his untimely passing two weeks before the record’s release. On the most vulnerable moment of his three projects this year, Future finds himself lost in his own opioid addiction, admitting: “Thought I was done with it, then got the news about you/All it made me wanna do is relapse.”
When Future swings away from that somber moment to the mixtape’s final track, “AYE SAY GANG,” you’re immediately taken out of the experience. He goes from quietly admitting, “Drugs in my body I still cry for you,” to abruptly boasting about custom Louis Vuitton pieces and the illicit substances in his bloodstream. Imagine if Young Thug tacked on another track to the end of Punk. It’s the equivalent of misplacing “Day Before (with Mac Miller)” as the penultimate track and choosing to end the album with a song dedicated to snorting blow with a discontinued $1000 bill. Even if we’re sympathetic to the paradox, it makes you wince – like staring at the white dermis layer of skin left from a wound that hasn’t fully healed.
The more music Future releases, the higher the standard, and MIXTAPE PLUTO delivers exactly what you’d expect. Lyrically, Future is mostly coasting, relying on the tried tropes that carried him from rags to riches. On “BRAZZIER,” we hear the familiar refrain, “Mask on, mask off,” and on “LIL DEMON,” Future goes on to claim, “Yeah, I’m trappin’, yeah, I’m trappin’, yeah, I’m still trappin’.” After the reported sale of his 2004-2020 catalog for somewhere between $65-75 million, we’re almost certain that that’s not the case anymore. Unless it’s a euphemism for doling out lyrics in exchange for profit, Future veers into his memory instead of rapping about the present – which is what he does best.
Without question, MIXTAPE PLUTO is an accomplishment. In the 12 years since his debut studio album, Pluto, Future is still able to nourish the streets with songs that stick. You’ll find yourself muttering, “I was moving too fast,” after late nights of reflecting on your relationships; Future somehow manages to codify “MJ” into an acronym for “Monkey Juice;” and on “TOLD MY,” he embeds one of the most arresting one-liners he’s delivered to date, recounting: “I told my bitch, ‘If I gotta be faithful, I might fall off.’”
In 2024, we’re not expecting Future to recreate the drug-addled heart of 56 Nights and FUTURE. For trap’s most prestigious veteran, MIXTAPE PLUTO is exactly what you’d expect. His flows are as creative as ever, his beats are comparable to any of his trap contemporaries, and even if his lyrics aren’t always the most fruitful, Future is, and has always been, an impressionist at heart. Claude Monet painted water lilies for the last 27 years of his life, and because his work grew with him, his art never felt dated. If MIXTAPE PLUTO, WE DON’T TRUST YOU and WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU is Future’s output at 40, we should appreciate the pioneer still working around the clock to perfect the lane he’s created for himself.
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