When it comes to being the drippiest brand an ascendant rapper could wear, nothing beats Chrome Hearts right now. And out of all the Chrome Hearts pieces MIKE could have purchased for a courtside fit at a recent Knicks game, he chose a pair of understated eyeglasses for $2000. It was a fittingly chill pick-up from a luxury label known for flashy silver jewelry and jeans that vibe more with Playboi Carti. But like Clark Kent throwing on a pair of specs to blend in with the masses, MIKE’s new Tony Seltzer-produced Pinball II demonstrates how even indie hip-hop’s superhero sometimes hangs up his cape to make some viciously fun flex raps on his own terms.
When MIKE first emerged in the 2010s, his pensive coming-of-age raps sharply contrasted the hyperactive, ethereal energy of clout-goggled SoundCloud rap contemporaries. But since then, MIKE’s music has brightened under a spotlight that’s turned him into an underground icon on par with mentor Earl Sweatshirt. Pinball II doesn’t boast Opium-style rage beats or radio-ready singles ripe for a Weeknd feature; instead MIKE shares a recipe for rock-star aura on “WYC4,” where slowly dripped raps weave a come-up story about rejecting the hustler’s lifestyle to grind for the rap money that earned him “Cartier like Playboi.” Like most MIKE songs, there’s just one verse effortlessly tied together with a fleeting hook. It’s up to Seltzer’s ear-rattling distorted bass and intergalactic synths to elevate MIKE’s matter-of-fact raps to nearly the same heights as the rocket ship producer Harry Fraud commanded on Carti’s “Location.”
If there’s any beatmaker prepared to counter the viral narrative that the pit at a MIKE show is a place to read a book or play chess, it’s Brooklyn-based Seltzer, who electrified last year’s Pinball. By the time Seltzer first linked with MIKE on 2017’s May God Bless Your Hustle, he was already orchestrating a generation of local New York talent with beats that could turn tiny Brooklyn DIY venues into Travis Scott-esque rage pits. Whether it was high-octane drill slaps for Brooklyn outfit Gloss Gang, ghoulish beats for Lower East Side tread rap demon Trippjones, or gothic trap ballads for Uptown Manhattan’s Vinny Fanta, a “Hey Tony” tag promised to shake the room as hard as any 2016 XXL Freshman. Seltzer’s track record with artists like Wiki and Jay Critch demonstrates his dexterity: meeting artists where they’re at while constructing a distinct sound of his own, shaped by everything from old VHS-tape samples to death metal drums.
Pinball II has plenty in common with its predecessor. Opener “Sin City” maintains the crash-through-the-wall velocity of Pinball intro “Two Door” with blaring horns and horror-movie strings that evoke Lex Luger’s production on Flockaveli. Snappier Pinball standouts like “Skurr” are rivaled by Pinball II tracks such as “#71,” where MIKE stitches lines about growing up wearing True Religion and North Face into a bouncy instrumental that’s almost like a refreshed DJ Webstar litefeet beat. He again taps unexpected collaborators: co-producer Clams Casino on “Prezzy,” Lunchbox for an hypnotizing Auto-Tuned hook on “Dolomite.” It’s a more digestible iteration of MIKE that feels authentic to him, not the kind engineered by a major label A&R.
What’s new about this hidden MIKE character that Pinball II unlocks for a second playthrough is that he sounds more self-assured both in his take on “stadium rap” and in the introspection typically more apparent on albums like Showbiz. Even Pinball II’s most upbeat tracks, “Money & Power” and “Dont Force It,” nod to the pitfalls of fame. The theme is explicit on closer “Chest Painz,” where MIKE plainly states, “I need money, I could do with even less fame/All the love I felt was screwed up in the best way” over a somber Seltzer beat that feels attuned to the sound of his earliest albums. It’s the raw honesty that’s shaped him into one of the most captivating rappers to emerge from New York’s underground over the past decade. On Pinball II, he displays this vulnerability with a smile—no prescription lenses necessary to alter his vision.