After years of being led astray, it only makes sense that Cudi finds remnants of his former self in the newest installment of his prestigious Man On The Moon series. ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ might not be another instance of Cudi striking gold or reinventing the wheel, but after nonsensical album abomination after abomination, it’s a much-needed breath of fresh air. Here, Cudi sticks to his guns reminiscing over the psychedelic blend of coked-up crooning and inner turmoil that defined his blockbuster franchise. Concerned for Cudi’s trauma, and twisted outlook on whatever reality he may be in, ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ is a quintessential Kid Cudi album at heart, that just happens to lose its identity along the way. It’s clear as day that the Cudi who orchestrated the previous installments, and this record, are two different entities, and thinking otherwise is naive, as more than anything, ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ is a reflection of how Cudi has been influenced by the acts he initially paved the way for.
Cudi effectively ties up loose ends on the opener ‘Beautiful Trip’. An appropriate tone-setter, the cinematic intro is likely to strike the hairs on the back of your neck as it relays that euphoric synth line that captured ears and hearts worldwide over a decade ago on our initial introduction to the Man On The Moon series, ‘In My Dreams (Cuddler Anthem)’. Moreso, it’s a means to whet the appetite, as it really exists to connect canon. There’s a definitive beginning and end, but what ensues in order to reach the finish line lacks revision and consistency. Divided into “acts”, somewhere along the line ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ takes the struggle between alter ego’s a little too literally, as the record becomes kaleidoscopic for all the wrong reasons.
Blurring the line between reality and the visceral inner-monologue he undergoes on the record, Cudi constantly snaps in and out of his psychotic high. Cudi directly addresses’ this inner struggle, in the episodic ‘Tequila Shots’. With nods to the familiarity of the sensation, and feeling prepared this time around, it’s particularly sage-like as Cudi comes to terms with his restless existence. If nothing else, his laser-focus and black-hearted demeanor should be the tell-tale sign of just how heavily it ways on him. The plot thickens on ‘Another Day’, where the battle is far more contextualised. Living vicariously through his anthropomorphic embodiment of depression, it’s as if Cudi has become a prisoner of his eternal struggle. In the thick of a fiendish party, Cudi is the lone conscious soul, as he shines a light on these ideas of change and re-invention, on one of the album’s more gripping and confrontational listens.
Cudi still lives for the thrill of the party on ‘She Knows This’, but isn’t nearly as unique in his approach the second-time round. They say imitation is the best form of flattery, but there’s nothing flattering about just how derivative he is of his own unsung proteges. The track’s chorus doesn’t even attempt to hide the obvious homage to Travis Scott, as Cudi sounds like a home-brand imitation. That same admiration and performative gusto is mimicked on ‘Damaged’. Rather than throwing a cliche rockstar temper tantrum at the thought of his unlimited luxuries, Cudi instead spends his time enthusiastically musing over his likeness to his contemporaries. Whilst he certainly isn’t the worst to join the bandwagon, it feels like a particularly bizarre role reversal given just how integral Cudi himself was to shaping the genre.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Cudi isn’t the innovator he was a decade ago, and this reflects on just how susceptible and responsive he tends to be with modern fads. It wouldn’t feel like a proper mainstream release without at least one obligatory, out of place crossover. Between one of Pop Smoke’s laziest choruses to date, an opaque drill instrumental, and an awkwardly tacked on Cudi verse that has him playing second fiddle, the only redeemable aspect of ‘Show Out’, other than an electrifying feature from Skepta is the commercial appeal. Cudi and Trippie Redd perceive themselves as immortal on the trite ‘Rockstar Knights’. As malevolent as Cudi is, there’s only so far he can drag the insufficient production and the ever insincere Trippie Redd. Sure, it’s a meticulous balance between a meat-headed celebration of luxury and self-aware introspection, but the track never manages to find its footing. Whilst I appreciate Cudi catering to the newer generation it ultimately ends up doing ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ more harm than good.
There’s always something pushing the narrative beyond the realm of reality on the album. Cudi makes a distinction between the run of the mill high-on-life narrative and his apocalyptic reign on ‘Heaven on Earth’. What would ordinarily read as a soothing lullaby becomes the nocturnal synth passage that ignites Cudi’s lust for danger. It’s yet another chapter in this back and forth that sees Mr. Rager roaming free, but with an obvious nod to Cudi’s moral being the anchor the track hinges upon, “please watch over me, please watch over me (Heaven)”. Cudi himself becomes the more potent counterpart on ‘Mr. Solo Dolo III’. In a genre where invincibility and emotionless havoc reigns supreme, Cudi isn’t afraid to pour his guts into a track where he admits addiction and reliance on drugs. As chilling as it is, I simply can’t look past how flat and uninteresting the track is sonically, as Cudi isn’t so much mellow from a drug-induced high, as he is bored by his own existence.
‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ is constantly hinting at something bigger. Within its nuanced moving parts, Cudi, for better or worse, has us wrapped around his finger. We reach a sort of emotive pinnacle in the third act, with ‘Elsie’s Baby Boy (flashback)’ being its crown jewel. With its arid and husky guitar, the track sounds as if it were plucked straight from a 60’s Western film. But don’t let its tension and stand-offish attitude trick you, as ‘Elsie’s Baby Boy (flashback)’ is both an origin story of Cudi’s, an ode to his mother’s resilience. As a tale, it’s enough to catch the listener hook, line, and sinker, but when Cudi fills in the blanks with obvious reference to his own upbringing, it really tugs on the heart strings.
Love is both a muse and vice at Cudi’s disposal. It’s a distraction, something that reminds him in his moment of mental bleakness that there is light in the darkness. Not that he doesn’t try, but there’s often a disconnect between intention and execution when it comes to translating the theme sonically, most notably on ‘Sept. 16’, and ‘The Void’. The former provides Cudi with all the euphoric and otherworldly production tools to succeed, only to be greeted by a particularly nauseating and comatose inducing performance. The latter, whilst more grandiose, and in your face, lacks purpose and impact. Had it been more compact and blunt, I get the idea the core sentiment would’ve been more effective, and not so lost in its drawn-out state.
It’s no secret that Cudi’s career has long been on a downward spiral, and one thing is again made clear on ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’, Cudi hasn’t learned his lesson, and that’s made obvious by just glancing at the monstrous 18 tracks. It’s not as if every addition feels necessary to progress the narrative either, as Cudi more or less tends to copy and paste ideas, to no avail. ‘Sad People’ comes to mind as a textureless addition that really only exists as playlist fodder. Perhaps the record’s greatest discrepancy from the trilogies previous installments is just how unambitious the production tends to be. There really isn’t much separating the instrumental Cudi parades about on, on ‘4 Da Kidz’ from the usual inane psychedelic trap the likes of Future or Lil Uzi Vert would champion.
The final phase of the record is a sort of reconciliation that has Cudi counting his lucky stars and finding himself. ‘The Pale Moonlight’ is a moment of healing, Cudi still has his head in the clouds, but all signs point to a particularly relieving conclusion. His mellow crooning and signature humming is all the more exciting over the top of some of the records most hypnotising and otherworldly offerings, it’s pure ecstasy. ‘Lord I Know’ is not only the conclusion to ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’, but the trilogy in its entirety. It’s only fitting that the climax the album builds to is defined by these multifaceted synth passages and surreal arrangements that feel like a sensory overload. Here, Cudi reflects on his decade-long journey, acknowledging the death-defying odds and insurmountable obstacles he’s overcome to make peace with himself.
For better or worse, ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ will constantly have you on the edge of your seat. It’s such a hit and miss rollercoaster that, at times, Cudi himself isn’t even in charge of. It comes as no surprise that ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ is unquestionably the weakest installment in the franchise, but given how notoriously shaky the latter part of the 2010s have been for Cudi, the album feels like a step in the right direction to attaining any shape of his former glory. It’s easy to write the album off considering how high the bar was set for it, but ‘Man On The Moon III: The Chosen’ feels like a moment of clarity and discovery not just within the trilogies canon, but for Kid Cudi’s career.
Man On The Moon III: The Chosen – Kid Cudi – 6/10
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