Kooley High: All Infinite | Four stars | M.E.C.C.A. Records; April 19
Alongside the peace and wisdom, it’s fair to wonder if the elevated, higher plane from which Kooley High approached their new album, All Infinite, might have brought a certain amount of clairvoyance, too.
How else to explain the precise historical moment in rap music that their spiritually minded sixth album was dropped into, one characterized (even more than usual) by the exact kind of childish antagonism and superficial clout-chasing that Kooley has long stood as an alternative to?
In aligning their release with the Jerry Springer-esque cultural meltdown that followed Kendrick Lamar’s “Like That” diss—one marked by debates about rappers’ parenting abilities and what cosmetic surgeries they may or may not have had—the longtime Raleigh rap crew couldn’t have conjured a better foil if they’d tried.
On the surface at least, the first LP from Kooley in five years isn’t a jarring departure from the smooth, relatable music that the group’s fans have come to expect. The usual echoes and sensibilities of lyrically-minded, golden era hip-hop are still there (as Phonte once said: “Dope beats, dope rhymes… this hip-hop ain’t really that hard, man”), as is the group’s preoccupation with air travel and heights. Where past albums like Heights and David Thompson called to mind flying through the air, All Infinite’s artwork finds the quintet in the dizzying altitudes of outer space.
And yet, Kooley has never sounded quite like this.
Whether sourcing beats from the likes of Eric G., Khrysis, and Tecknowledgy, sharing verses with fellow North Carolinians like Rapsody, Mez, and Median, or even, as on 2018’s Never Come Down, getting executive production from 9th Wonder himself, Kooley High’s music has always been a communal affair—many hands making light work. On Infinite, they invert the blueprint, tearing things down to the studs. No vocal features, no famous executive producer or Statik Selektah remixes, not even their own talented in-house producers Sinopsis and Foolery, with every beat on the album coming from Atlanta-based producer Tuamie.
That may sound more like the recipe for a half-hearted handout of loosies than a triumphant back-from-hiatus album but, miraculously, cosmically, the final product is among Kooley’s strongest to date. Much of the credit belongs to Tuamie, whose sonic foundation varies enough to keep things interesting, without straying from the album’s otherworldly tone, from the wistful notes of “Keep It Cool” to the eerie, somersaulting plucked strings on standout track “Get Up.”
Also helping the cause is All Infinite’s structure, which leans more overtly into a core set of themes than a Kooley album ever has, most notably through periodic interludes that guide the proceedings. In clips, comedians Norm Macdonald and Pete Holmes talk about the inevitability of death and the insanity of planetary life. Emcees Tab-One and Charlie Smarts pay tribute to fallen hip-hop legends and reflect on the need to lean on others. Even Tuamie is given room to speak, with solo instrumental moments like “The Color Red,” and emotive outros on “Energy” and “Hot Outside.” It’s a subtle sleight of hand that makes Kooley’s least-crowded album still feel distinctly like the work of a team.
But where All Infinite most diverges from K-High albums before it—and even more so, from the rap music of the moment—is in the words and subject matter of Tab and Charlie, whose continued evolution is on full display. Weighty, universal topics stretch across multiple songs, from fatherhood and generational legacy (“The Freshest,” “Love Foreverer”) to mortality and endlessness (“Other Side,” “Energy”).
Even on songs where some of the usual, lighter Kooley fare of boasting and lyrical showmanship carries the day, as on “Energy,” the album’s expansive, cosmic themes are never far from mind: “We don’t believe the lies, you know the vibes/ You don’t wanna see me fly, then close ya eyes/ It’s no wonder that ya blind, you close ya mind/ I know even when you die, the soul survives.”
Although these are some of the most concise, businesslike songs in the group’s catalog—despite 18 tracks, Infinite clocks in at a tidy 49 minutes—not every word is loaded with meaning. Some of the album’s brightest ideas are diffused by a lack of focus, with sharp hooks appearing next to meandering lines that seem more motivated by rhyming itself than conveying a particular idea: “Get the party kickin’, or crackin’/ rising out the ocean like a Kraken/shining with a flow you couldn’t soak up with a napkin.” But even this occasional lighthearted doodling is a gift as much as a curse: if songs sometimes don’t feel explored to their fullest extent, they also aren’t overtaken by extended, off-theme digressions either.
The outside-producer experiment, the shedding of guest vocalists, the tonal shift in content—it could all sound like a group unsure, in 2024, of exactly who they are. But the identity of Kooley High has never been about a specific sound as much as a resolute commitment to change, growth, and ascension. On All Infinite, Kooley continues to defy gravity. Fifteen-plus years, one departed founding member, and six albums later, they still ain’t dropped yet.
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