Over the years, many artists have found themselves carrying the burdensome load of supposedly bringing "real" rap back. With jaded fans looking for a torchbearer for rhyming amid a sea of autotune, melodic flows, and trap beats, being awarded this distinction has both positives and negatives. While it'll ensure that you have a rabid, diehard fan base that'll pour over every syllable and rhyming couplet, it can lead to detractors that will see you as nothing more than a revivalist that's clinging on to an era bygone.
So, when it was announced that Conway The Machine-- alongside Griselda architect and brother Westside Gunn- had signed to Shady Records in March 2017, it felt like it could go either way.
But where Westside Gunn decided to renounce his ties to Shady by taking the path of least resistance with Who Made The Sunshine? Conway has taken his time and given his first outing on a major subsidiary all of the care and attention that it merits.
The product of refinement, restraint and lessons learned from across a prolific run, it's no exaggeration to say that God Don't Make Mistakes Is his most robust and formidable statement yet.
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Far more than an exercise in providing the virtuosic wordplay and clandestine content that we've come to expect from him, it feels as though Conway, despite having a larger discography to his name than many MC's twice his age, approached this record feeling like he still has something to prove.
Through resurrecting the hunger of a starving MC that was still trapping to make end meets, Conway's every word lands with metric tons worth of force behind it. Even more remarkably, that quality shines through even when he's exhuming the demons of his past.
Over the signature foreboding production of Beat Butcher and Daringer, "Lock And Load" is an album opener with malicious intent.
By calling upon Beanie Sigel's service for a feature, The Machine once again proves himself to be adept at melding two different eras of street rap in perfect harmony. On the lyrical front, it sets the tone for the intricacy that's coming from his rhyme patterns as he spits:
I'm losin' my marbles, lettin' that AR go
Fifty shot sticks'll do you n***as something horrible
Two-sixty on the digi' dash, look how fast my car go
Talk about my face but can't say shit about my bars though
Meanwhile, hearing Beanie Sigel reference State Property and Conway's own Drumwork imprint within the same breath feels like yet another passing of the torch moment for the Griselda camp at large.
Arriving in a hail of clattering drums and soulful vocalizing, "Tear Gas" finds Conway in speculative mode as he mandates how his legacy will be viewed after his untimely demise.
Decreeing that he should be buried "in my jewels so n****s know my life was beautiful," this masterclass in frank, forthright hip-hop will also provide some relief for fans as Conway walks back previous declarations of impending retirement, spitting that he's "far from my final chapter."
On the guest front, Weezy continues his herculean streak of incredible guest verses while Rick Ross sedately cruises over the instrumental's piano licks as only he can. As opposed to cynically fortifying the project with big-name features, Conway shrewdly allocates space on the record for his own investments to get some shine.
Aptly titled "Drumwork," 7xvethegenius and Jae Skeese seem acutely aware of the platform they're on and put their all into their verses. While in Conway's case, he uses the track as yet another opportunity for lore building:
Got bitches on my neck like I'm Swae Lee, signed to Shady then hit the connect
And you know what I did with the check, my n***a.
Thrilling as this opening bombardment is, it coyly conceals the soul-searching that takes place on much of the record.
Unwilling to phone it in or pander to his audience, God Don't Make Mistakes is Conway going out of his way to actively dismiss any preconceptions about his artistic limitations.
If he were so inclined, Conway could've easily churned out vintage Griselda in the vein of the menacing, Alchemist-overseen "Piano Love" and be lauded for doing so. After all, it's a track that exemplifies every tenet of Conway's approach that has made him a star. Likewise, he's as razor-sharp as ever over Daringer beats and his ability to garland his days of hustling in engaging imagery is practically unparalleled.
However, when he ventures out of this comfort zone, it allows for his well-honed guard to lower and makes way for a sincerity that adds a whole new dimension to his discography.
Whereas others go from A-to-B and present themselves as though they were emotionally barren, Conway has the courageousness to expose the most challenging excerpts from his own personal journey.
Beginning with "Wild Chapters", Conway sets aside the wordplay in favor of startling passages of sorrow, regret, and grief.
Delivered over a bittersweet instrumental from Hit-Boy-- whose hot streak seems to be never-ending-- Conway divulges family secrets with the same unapologetic confidence that he does coke bars, rhyming:
Yeah, I had a son a lil' while after
And when he died, know it was hard for you to smile after
While all that was goin' on, I had a child after
So how the fuck I'm 'posed to be a proud rapper?
Left with the unenviable task of following his showstopping verse, Novel and TI-- as well as others across the project-- play their role perfectly.
For anyone pining for the formative years of Griselda, the now legendary trio of Conway, Benny, and Westside Gunn have you covered and then some on "John Woo Flick."
Then, lurking just around the corner is the heart and soul of the project. Delivered as though the thoughts had to be expunged from his brain, Conway recounts the tale of his shooting and the long-term damage, both mental and physical, that was left behind on "Guilty." Permanently stricken with Bell's palsy Conway speaks of defying the world's preoccupation with aesthetics as he implores fans to "just focus on the lyrics, don't focus on my appearance."
For what will not be the last time, Conway lowered his shield and allowed his insecurities to show through. And by doing so, he let listeners know that at this stage, he's got nothing to lose by staying true to himself.
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Complete with a dreamlike instrumental that stands in sharp contrast to the harsh realities of Conway's pen, "Stressed" explores the onus that he feels to uplift others even as he's still shouldering his own burdens. Across three blistering verses, The Machine breaks down the presumption that money is the antidote to all anxieties. Instead, he suggests that it can create the illusion that everything is in hand and that the trials of the past have been soothed by your success.
An update of the age-old adage of "Mo Money, Mo Problems," Conway scratches way below the surface in order to boldly reveal the more unsightly elements of his psyche.
Between the loss of his cousin and the death of an infant son to childhood abuse and his struggles with his facial paralysis, Conway intimates that it has all culminated in alcohol dependency and in doing so, presents a counterargument to hip-hop's usual assertion that the party never stops.
Intent to "not just talk about it, but show it," Conway's versatility gains another new wrinkle on "Chanel Pearls" with Jill Scott.
A day-one love story that explores the complex dynamics of juggling dreams with romantic connections and temptation, it is the only moment on the record where Conway takes a backseat to a guest while R&B icon Jill Scott delivers a verse that harks back to the mesmerizing poetry of "Love Rain."
As cathartic and gripping as everything leads up to it is, each composition on this project pales in comparison to the emotional tug of its title track.
On "God Don't Make Mistakes," Conway recaps the many near-misses of his life in a way that is both grateful and yet accented by remorse over all that was lost in order for him to rise to his current stature. Delivered over the fusion of raw but thoughtful sonics that only The Alchemist can provide, the track is a potted history of Conway's life that ends with the hysterical pleas of his mother as the heart monitor flatlines.
Not only arresting and heartfelt, the track acts as the perfect continuation of the "what if?" motif and demonstrates that to Conway, rapping is no frivolous pastime or get-rich-quick scheme. To his mind, it is a divine purpose that he is obligated to pursue to the fullest.
Both the end of an era and the beginning of a bold, untethered new direction for Conway, God Don't Make Mistakes has a very good chance of being looked back upon as the moment that The Machine cracked top 5's the world over.