I Self Divine's latest album, Self Destruction, sounds like the sonic equivalent of road rage: angry, violent, yet ultimately annoying and pointless. With a self-assured delivery that resembles Brother Ali or Fat Joe, the former MC for Atlanta's Micranots delivers angst-ridden blasts of slogan-heavy choruses. Meanwhile Destruction's production is steeped in the winning Rhymesayers formula: searing, chunky beats via shit-hot indie producers such as Ant and Jake One. But the lyrics tend to drag the album down. Only on "Can't Say Nothing Wrong," an ode to a nameless young woman he passes daily, does Divine peer out from behind superfluous bragging that hampers his solo debut.
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