Master of My Make-Believe turns friction into fire, its flippantly skewed pop anthems doubling as obviously personal documents of Santi White's unwillingness to let anyone get over on her.
It's a comfortable shoe of a record, a distillation of everything he's done during the past decade, without the cultivated obstinacy.
The loopy paradox of >>, and what makes it so addictive, is the forward momentum that sounds both like spacing out and working hard.
On Reloaded, he's written perhaps the most vivid rap album of the year — and possibly of his lifetime.
With such a gratifying front end, it's easy to dismiss Roman Reloaded's subsequent pop tracks as a paying of the piper
