Saba - Bucket List Project

Pitchfork 70

Many were first introduced to Chicago rapper Saba as another local artist in Chance the Rapper’s orbit: he was a standout voice on Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment’s Surf (with an uncredited verse on “SmthnthtIwnt”) and more recently he guested on Coloring Book’s “Angels.” Both songs create a decent-enough sample size to assess what exactly Saba is all about: spirituality. He isn’t just fascinated by religion and its role in black families and communities, he’s fixated on the human spirit and the soul, too—both in the eternal sense and the mortal one. His latest mixtape, Bucket List Project, is about the experiences we long to pack into one lifetime. “They ask me ‘why Bucket List?’’’ he raps on “California.” “You know the bucket list: I finally climbed the rock, made it to the top of the precipice/I came from the pessimism of inner city as it is,” detailing the obstacles he’s hurdled to come within arm’s reach of his dream. To that end, the mixtape encourages listeners and guests to find the spirit necessary to achieve their own goals before they die.

Saba has always dealt in a hopeful optimism steeped in pragmatism. Chance’s joy overflows, rooted in an unshakable confidence that no matter what, we gon’ be alright. Saba isn’t always so sure about that, but he wants to believe it. His writing is more analytical, taking stock of everything from the flawed U.S. education system to his own value, grading on a weighted scale. On his breakout project, 2014’s ComfortZone, he recounted the observations he’s accrued living on Chicago’s West Side, revealing uncanny abilities to scrutinize and to self-assess in the process (on “401k” “All my niggas did time and got beat up/But I was never street enough to grow up and be a thug”). Bucket List Project, which shares similar sonic space, picks up where its predecessor left off, telling West Side stories that expose the runoff of American corruption. But with death seemingly lurking around every city corner, it wonders, openly, about impermanence, too.

The imagery is overwhelmingly theological on Bucket List—paradise, demons, heaven, prayers, blessings, preachers—usually with intent to make sense of a chaotic natural order. He seeks an ear from anyone listening (human or divine), and solutions from anyone who has them. “Call Obama, Jesus, Yeezus/He can save Chicago from the demons and the deacons,” Saba raps sarcastically on the Noname-assisted “Church/Liquor Store,” a Common-esque hood log that notes the role community institutions play in creating a toxic atmosphere. The lyric pinpoints a very particular, and prevalent, response to social inequity: passing the buck. Saba doesn’t really offer any answers, either, opting instead to witness, but what he does offer are insights.

Bucket List Project isn’t as complete a journey as ComfortZone, but for the much of its groovy runtime, it is superbly written and performed. Saba is a crafty storyteller who makes full use of his long memory and slithering wordplay. On the xylophone-laden “Stoney,” a ride in a new car becomes a time machine back to past journeys that helped to inform his present. Some of his lyrics have devastating impact. He can open wounds with one-liners as simply as “How you lonely in a room with God?” or “I wish I didn’t have to be famous to be important,” but he’s just as capable of rattling off a razor-sharp diagnosis like this one from “American Hypnosis,” a reliving of personal traumas: “Had to learn my mama depression wasn’t my own/Had to feel the pressures of the pessimism/Trying to convince me that realism was a better vision.”

In Bucket List Project’s margins, Saba has several people, some of them notable Chicagoan musicians, sharing their personal bucket lists. Among them: Chance, Lupe Fiasco, guest Jean Deaux, and local rapper Stunt Taylor. One fan wants to go one-on-one with former Chicago Bulls guard Derrick Rose. Another wants to play soccer on rooftops in Tokyo. Deaux wants to smoke a blunt with Beyoncé and de-gentrify Chicago neighborhoods. It’s a wishing well filled to the brim with unfulfilled dreams, further exploring the underlying thesis that inactivity is, in a way, similar to death. One outro speaks to the core of that message: “Hailin’ from the West Side, nigga tryna make it to the Grammys...at least somewhere. Somewhere more than where a muthafucka been.” Bucket List Project finds Saba going somewhere specific: forward.