I try not to carry too much water for Slate by continually linking to stuff they publish, because they are a behemoth and do not need my slavish attention, but this is tough because they’re a great magazine (or website, or what have you), even if a neoliberal demigod owns them now. With that in mind . . . Over at Slate, Jack Hamilton has two fine pieces about Pusha T’s new album My Name Is My Name, in the latter of which Hamilton deftly annotates Pusha’s/Clipse’s “strange anti-charisma,” that Virginia blend of “brute creativity and dizzying swagger.” On the working top-ten list Hamilton assembles, one finds this new blood diamond, “Numbers on the Boards” (prod. at least in part by Kanye West):

The production showcases Kanye’s ability to chisel out beats that are simultaneously appealing and unnerving: it’s poltergeist pop. Good luck getting it out of your head. Buy King Push’s album, too. He has been one of the best MCs around for over a decade without ever making the Scrooge McDuck money he deserves.

Aaaaand because My Name is My Name is so good, here is another track, “Suicide,” a chilling diss of Drake, et al. Assuming you aren’t the kind of person who clutches their pearls (Ohmygod he’s cussing and just talking about money and drugs stuff and objectifying women) when confronting anything that isn’t piously middle-class—in which case you should not be reading this blog—you will enjoy it.

As one of the Web’s best vernacular hip-hop critics, Big Ghost (who has a new website and is not, despite some early rumors, actually Ghostface), puts it with his usual demotic verve (WARNING: salty urban language ahead):

Niggas at Def Jam musta lost they damn minds yo… This shit is reckless b. This is REALLY like some Hell Hath No Fury shit all over again. I aint eem playin when I say this shit make me wanna cop a kilo on consignment n snort the whole brick right muthafuckin now. Im liable to do some irresponsible shit while listenin to this muthafucka b. Ya boy liable to make some bad decisions n act out in a very irresponsible way right now yo. The sound of that money countin machine dont help matters none my nigga. I cant be held accountable for my actions right now…not if niggas is gon make songs like this n release em to the public. Yall reckless for that… Ionno how Pharrell can go from makin electro french disco n happy ass Captain & Tennille type shit to joints this filthy son. This shit jus dirty bruh. Im disgusted. Im makin faces like I jus walked into a room witta dead raccoon hangin off the ceiling fan right now. I might gon order a pizza jus so I can punch somebody in the face right now dawg. Word is bond I might gon bicycle kick the pizza man thru the skylight if this shit is playin again when he get here. The boy Push takin aim at certain inviduals in these bars too. [. . .] Ab Liva did his Ab Liva thing on this shit too. He might actually be the last rapper on earth still doin the Young Chris whisper flow that Hov made famous. Bars was on point as usual tho. Not like it really need to be said  it but I all the way fucks wit this shit right here.

Me too, Ghost. Happy weekends everywhere, everyone.