If there's one thing
Dum and Dummer doesn't do, it's put up a facade. The first collaborative project between Memphis rap mainstay
Young Dolph and rising star
Key Glock, the album sees the pair strip back any pretenses over a 22-track set of charismatic trap anthems. Of course, all of trap's usual staples are here: beats are driven with clattering hi-hats and pounding basses, melodies are carried by a plethora of looped synths, and lyrics are locked into spheres of wealth and autobiography. Yet what's most immediately apparent is the pair's continued dedication to Memphis. It's hard not to hear the echoes of early
Three 6 Mafia in the album's production, as
Glock and
Dolph regularly evoke the flows of innovators like Skinny Pimp and Tommy Wright III. Despite the loftiness of these influences, they never run the risk of overpowering the duo's identity, with their charisma on the mic ensuring the work feels fundamentally theirs. For the most part, this manifests in their lyrics -- statements like "Put your faith in the preacher, I put my faith in my vacuum sealer" embed gripping snippets of autobiography, while lines like "My watch beefin' with my chain and I'm the instigator (who's hittin' the hardest?)" put a compelling spin on the genre's lyrical staples. Even at their most generic, the pair retain this engagement, with the catchy "I paid the price to rock this ice" making you wonder how they're the first to really coin the phrase.
As with any musical pairing, chemistry is essential, and
Dolph and
Glock don't disappoint. The album's best moments ("1 Hell of a Life," "Reflection," "Everybody Know") see the duo riffing off each other's energy and linking their verses with well-executed motifs. This obvious synergy brings into question the decision to include 11 solo cuts on the project; while
Glock has impressive offerings in "Like Key," "Back at It," and "Monster," tracks like "Chill" and "Pride" lack vitality when compared to the record's collaborative tracks. However, any moments of unevenness are helped by the production of Bandplay: club anthem "Juicy" is salvaged by its crisp, bouncy sonics, while the inconsistent writing of "Blac Loccs" is quickly forgotten in its nostalgic Rhodes piano. As a result, the album never stoops below solid; while its highs stand well above its cloudier lows, there's nothing subpar here, resulting in a consistent testament to the duo's talent as performers.
Dum and Dummer doesn't shift the zeitgeist or make any essential social statement, but it doesn't have to -- the project contains some of the most braggadocious, compelling trap produced by either artist. On the whole,
Dum and Dummer sees
Glock and
Dolph become more than the sum of their parts. ~ David Crone