We take the long delay between albums for granted. These days, artists are delivering new bodies of work once a year, sometimes even twice. Those who wait too long between releases tend to be met with impatience and disrespect. It’s a fate that many Top Dawg Entertainment artists know all too well. Isaiah Rashad’s last album, The Sun’s Tirade, arrived in September of 2016; five years later, The House Is Burning.
Those who have followed Rashad closely understand his plight. Battling an addiction to alcohol and Xanax that left his body broken down, alternate circumstances may very well have sidelined Rashad from music on a more permanent basis. He was nearly dropped from his label on several occasions. Today, his return runs parallel with TDEs own, driving optimism in a fanbase that had long grown weary. Such understated power runs through Isaiah Rashad. A raw relatability, a delicate balance of everyman and otherworldly. Homespun Southern hospitality through a sun-tinted west-coast lens, his sonic genealogy is fascinating.
It’s easy to imagine the album’s title being said aloud. The house is burning. No exclamation point, but rather observational, even detached. It’s the sort of delivery that permeates Isaiah’s latest project; even when a subject may call for urgency, he seldom appears fazed. As such, the title takes on a metaphorical weight that adds a compelling thematic throughline from start to finish. The fire is an internal once, and while it may be raging in the present tense, Isaiah has found manageable ways to retain control.
For one, it sounds as if he’s enjoying the process of making music, having painstakingly crafted an album that suits his vision. The vision was so focused that Rashad left an instant crowd-pleaser, the Kenny Beats-produced, ScHoolboy Q-assisted “Runnin’ From The Law” on the cutting room floor. It’s always refreshing to dive into an album designed to play start to finish.
While many artists use the intro to make an emphatic point, Rashad takes the opposite route, lulling listeners into a strange and cerebral world. Masked beneath vocal processing, his language takes a supernatural bent, inviting listeners to draw their own conclusions. “Is that you on the edge? Whatever was under the bunk bed, I ain't scared, I'm ready,” he raps. “They locked the horns with matadors, okay, don't get too heavy, / He shined his fangs and Cuban chain, okay, don't get too heavy / They dug a grave, he came alive, okay, don't get too heavy.”
A galvanized Rashad livens the pace on “From The Garden,” firing off a staccato flow over minimalist bass-driven production. Even when he’s getting close to flex-rap territory, his unconventional delivery demands attention. “RIP Young” is immediate without making a scene, a laid-back and reflective sort of banger fueled by Rashad’s casual lyricism. It segues beautifully -- literally, with the skit of a humbling rainbow sighting -- into the Duke Deuce-assisted “Lay Wit Ya.” It’s not surprising that Zay chose this one as the lead single; it’s among the few tracks that work to full efficacy outside the context of the album.
That’s not to speak ill on the sixteen songs that make up The House Is Burning. There's calculated -- and subtle -- craftsmanship throughout. Though Isaiah rarely positions himself as a larger-than-life personality, his gravitas emerges from what he’s choosing not to present. There’s a sense that he could easily be making bangers, following trends, and spitting bars as he once did on “Soliloquy” and the like. He’s certainly technically sound and versatile enough to fall back on old crowd-pleasing habits. Instead, he chose to make an album that resonates on a personal level, unafraid to cast himself adrift in dreamscapes.
On “Don’t Shoot,” Rashad floats over jazz-tinted production from Kal Banx and Rory Behr, his delivery borderline muttered. There’s a sense that some of his verses emerged directly from reference tracks, though incisive penmanship suggests otherwise. Homages to his Southern influences -- including a tribute to the late Pimp C on “Chad” -- feel sincere and deliberate. Speaking of “Chad” -- might we be looking at one of the waviest head-nodders of the year so far?
It’s a strange paradox; the album’s biggest strength may also be its biggest flaw. It truly is best experienced in a single listening session. Individual songs certainly work in a vacuum, and it won’t be surprising to see some of the bouncier cuts in steady rotation in certain clubs. Yet there’s a rewarding feeling that surfaces upon reaching the climactic tandem of “THIB” and “HB2U.” Those who can appreciate slow-burning and deliberately structured stories will find much to gain from living with Rashad’s latest. It’s not entirely accessible, though hardly a niche display of experimentation. Perhaps it has simply become a little jarring to see a mainstream album arranged with the meticulous touch of an auteur.