One need only peek at the cover of the new Vince Staples album to get the gist: the rapper is pissed off at the state of America, and you’re going to hear about it. ‘Cry Baby’ is a deliberate step away from both the introspective lyricism of 2024’s ‘Dark Times’ and the absurd production that defined 2017’s ‘Big Fish Theory,’ using all the tools at Staples’ disposal to throw up an almighty middle finger to the modern political elite. Flawed as it may be, the record’s punk-like sneer is satisfying to say the least.

No discussion of ‘Cry Baby’ can possibly escape its blatant political messaging, which is pushed to the absolute forefront of the album: Donald Trump is portrayed as an insufferable infant on the cover, and he isn't being much kinder on these ten tracks. The record is certainly poignant, but only insofar as the listener can relate to its tales of corruption, racism and disillusionment. Staples isn’t taking a scalpel to society like Kendrick Lamar would, but is instead boisterously throwing hands at the world— that is to say, ‘Cry Baby’ isn’t aiming to examine the USA’s greatest problems in extreme detail, but chooses instead to act as a rallying cry for a disgruntled nation. It’s a choice that reflects the social unrest of the world today, that the blatant dehumanisation on ‘Go! Go!’ Gorilla’ and the piercing Slick Rick sample chop on ‘The Big Bad Wolf’ are blows Staples doesn’t feel the need to soften. These ten tracks aren’t delivering the most insightful verses you’ve ever heard: what we lose in thought-provoking lyricism is made up for in the rapper’s obvious anger.

That distinction— between your average, nuanced conscious rap project and the brute-force approach of this album— can be felt in the production of ‘Cry Baby,’ which swaps out smooth jazz instrumentals or lofi beats for angular rock riffs and a boyish swagger. The guitars behind ‘Blackberry Marmalade’ and ‘TV Guide’ are cloaked in an ugly distorted tone, almost like they’re actively waiting for a retort, and it’s this ‘come on, try it’ attitude that ends up defining Staples’ latest project. It’s impossible not to hear the scathing irony that runs through the “God bless the USA” hook of ‘Only In America’ or through the rapper’s verses on ‘The Running Man,’ and it’s that rebellious attitude that lends ‘Cry Baby’ its cynical appeal. ‘The Big Bad Wolf’ is probably the strongest example, with its groovy bass lines and vicious rapping from Staples perfectly capturing the exasperation at the album’s core— much the same could be said for the distant lead parts on ‘Do You Know The Devil’ and the exciting energy of the aforementioned ‘The Running Man,’ neither of which will fail to perk your ear up on relisten.

The conviction behind ‘Cry Baby’ is undeniable, but that doesn’t necessarily mean Staples has committed to this new rock sound wholeheartedly: if anything, the rapper pulls back from the style too often. Even if no-one would expect this album to aim for the fury of, say, a Rage Against The Machine record, ‘Cry Baby’ does consistently sound rather limp, leaving its stark bass lines and flaccid drum loops out to dry— you can hear how empty ‘Go! Go! Gorilla’ and ‘Blackberry Marmalade’ are behind their aggressive exteriors, and how much more comfortable Staples is on the mellower ‘White Flag’ and ‘7 In The Morning.’ This is a brief listen, but even a mere 35 minutes can grow tiring when the music is this intentionally standoffish: just take a look at the endlessly repetitive ‘TV Guide’ for an insight into how close the record comes to monotony (though it does, thankfully, escape unscathed for the most part). Despite his evident passion and barbed remarks, Staples doesn’t quite manage to lend ‘Cry Baby’ the rage it so desperately wants. The rapper is unlikely to inspire a revolution with this one, even if he might get you singing along.

The world is an upsetting place, and ‘Cry Baby’ does an excellent job capturing that distinct sense of dread and unrest that’s become so common these days: it’s obviously a project Vince Staples felt he needed to make, even if wasn’t necessarily the best man for the job. The rock instrumentals he brings to the table here suffice, but they’re hardly going to knock your socks off. No, it’s for its angry retorts and cutting political framing that ‘Cry Baby’ feels so cathartic.