No Poison No Paradise is the fifth studio album by American rapper Black Milk. The album is primarily produced by Black Milk himself, and includes guest appearances from artists such as Mel, Ab, Dwele, Black Thought, Quelle Chris, Tone Trezure and Robert Glasper.
Review:
If Black Milk's loud and bright 2010 effort Album of the Year felt like
triumph and soul, the dark and punchy No Poison No Paradise feels like doubt and
funk. It's also a return to the same kind of hip-shaking techno beats found on
his 2008 album, Tronic, but the formerly Detroit-, now Dallas-based rapper and
producer is also post-breakthrough, so his hunger is for something different, as
the observational “Interpret Sabotage” searches for meaning, or at least
peace of mind. Rattling off his lines at a frantic, Twista-fast pace and with a
Kanye West-sharp snarl, Milk offers “They're poppin champagne with bitches in
bars/They get in the car, they get out of the car, they get in their loft, and
get up their broad/They get up the mornin' they like…,” then takes both a
long inhale and long pause before the hollow and hedonistic circle begins again.
Turns out, club life and bottle service aren't nearly as filling as serenity.
The jazzy and ironically titled “Perfected on Puritan Ave” admits that back
in the day “The rap game was a fallback plan” and yet backstage, Bettys who
can't even hold or appreciate their high-grade weed are the reward for “young
players who ain't ever seen or never had nuthin'/But made some off makin' rap
shit and started live fast with some cash stuntin'.” Brilliant how the brittle
and off-kilter beat of “Dismal” suggests a man lost in purgatory, and with
feelings that are equally vacant (“Yeah, you had it all, hit a broad all
night/Now she's comin' full circle, didn't play your cards right”) while
“Sunday's Best” (“church shoes were achin'” and “rather be home video
gamin'”) and “Monday's Worst” (“I hate you in the worst way/Spent
money on Rosé instead of your son's birthday”) add up to a suite that shakes
its head in the presence of church heathens, because if the wrath of God won't
turn you around, what will? Producer Will Sessions handles the beat on the
easy-strollin' “Deion's House,” but otherwise, it's a restrained Milk
behind the boards, wrapping his elevated lyrics in Dilla-inspired/Dilla-worthy
broken funk for “Ghetto Demf” or making this a true album experience by
allowing vocalist Dwele and keyboardist Robert Glasper room to just vamp on the
instrumental treasure called “Sonny Jr. (Dreams).” Don't call it a comedown
because No Poison No Paradise tempers all this down-trodden acceptance with hope
and pride, and while the more approachable Album of the Year makes for an easier
entry point into the man's discography, this one is deeper, and artistically
more filling.
David Jeffries, AllMusic.com