All the kiddies shout "Free Earl," but Earl himself raps, like, "Nah, I'ma do me." No longer your link-bait, skate-punk Buckwheat, he turns inward, upside-down, and sideways (to slide past any clumsy expectations), but mostly away. "Why you depressed and sad all the time like a little bitch?" goes the j'accuse on "Burgundy," so Earl sleepily admits his priorities are fucked-up and references Clark Gable in The Misfits, then flicks off a spree of bars like Del the Bipolar Homosapien. "Chum" is confessional storytelling of a high disorder — "I'm indecisive, I'm scatter-brained, and I'm frightened, it's evident" — but this tale of fatherless despair also sucks the oxygen outta your lungs. Unlike most OFWGKTA projects, the musical backdrops (with assists from Pharrell, protégé Christian Rich, RZA, and the Alchemist) are evocative yet mindful, never coloring too far outside the lines. Tyler, the Creator's acidic interjections intrude, but Earl's poetic bursts erase any distractions. From "Whoa": "Bruising gimmicks with the broom he usually use for Quidditch / Gooey writtens, scoot 'em to a ditch, chewed and booty-scented / Too pretentious, do pretend like he could lose with spitting / Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies full of euphemisms." Free Earl? Sheeeeeit. C.A.