Nettspend’s debut album has its moments, but they’re not enough to rescue it from an overwhelming sense of dullness.

Since his arrival onto the scene in 2023 with his single “Drankdrankdrank,” Nettspend has been one of rap’s most polarizing figures. His musical content and age raise some questions: why is a young, white suburban rapper from Richmond, Virginia, rapping about sex, money, and drugs? That image, if we’re being honest, is off-putting; it reads more like cosplay than authenticity. I’ll admit that I didn’t truly listen to him until this review, where I did my best to go into it with an open mind. That said, I’m not unfamiliar with the style of music Nettspend creates; his work sits in the rage genre, an area I’ve followed since its advent, and I’m also deeply familiar with his contemporaries, such as Che and OsamaSon. So when I say early life crisis is a frustrating listen that falls short of a genre-defining record, I mean it.

To no one’s surprise, on early life crisis, Nettspend raps about the usual vices. When lyrics are repetitive and circle the same few subjects, there’s a lot of weight placed on the artist’s delivery. Do you have a certain swagger on the microphone? Does something give me the stank face? For most of the album, the answer is no. Like, he’s making me physically uncomfortable on “crack,” where he’s chanting “I wanna crack” in the chorus with a pushy, grating tone. Or, with a prepubescent voice on “hey, hello,” he raps, “Girl, put that work in / Shawty, wanna see that squirtin' / Yeah, I'm tryna see that,” which just makes me squirm. That’s not to say he’s without interesting moments. On the track right after, “still standing,” he delivers, “Uh, they said, ‘How you still standing?’ / I don't even know, said, ‘I got a lot of bands’” in such a nonchalant manner it’s like he’s doing you a favor just by showing up. I especially liked Nettspend’s flow in “trap house 2016,” where he’s yelling “Dog too big for the lap / Boy, the cops out, they gon' flee,” with an energy reminiscent of Che — violent and jarring, an avenue the record only briefly revisits on “masked up.” However, his overall delivery leans toward mundane and uninteresting, with a few highlights sprinkled here and there that don’t sustain momentum. 

The two features don’t help either. OsamaSon’s feature on “pain talk” doesn’t really add a different and meaningful layer to the song; at times you can barely tell him and Nettspend apart. YoungBoy Never Broke Again on “masked up” is unremarkable as well; it’s a 20-second feature and its only purpose seems to be a patch job on an otherwise unfinished track. Both featured artists are capable of so much more. 

The production is consistently decent, but there’s not anything innovative going on. Even when the beats get wild with distorted bass and funky synths, like on “ce” or “cross em out,” it feels like territory 2slimey or Jane Remover have already mapped out. I can’t help but feel that if this album was released when it was originally supposed to be, which was last summer, I would be more receptive to the production. Regardless, there’s no consistent artistic direction. Nettspend commits to a loud, abrasive sound on some tracks, and then switches it up to more subdued instrumentals on others. There’s also a motif of 8-bit and retro-sounding melodies throughout the record, like on “halftime,” that seem to borrow a page from The Life of Pi’erre 5. There’s nothing wrong with inspiration, but it feels like an undeveloped or scrapped theme rather than a deliberate one. That’s ultimately a problem that arises from working with a variety of producers without a focused vision tying it together. Still, there’s some unique moments worth noting: “sick” features alien-sounding lasers over a looping 808 highlighting a melody that could be a part of a Scream movie. And “lil bieber,” the album’s closer, has a hypnotizing bubbly tune with a bass that kicks in every few seconds, reminding me of Unmusique by Lucy Bedroque.

In sum, early life crisis struggles to make any meaningful advancements in the rage genre. At 21 tracks, the album is bloated. Nettspend wanders without fully committing to a direction, and his inconsistent delivery compounds the problem. When he does find stronger footing, he stumbles in territory already well-established by his contemporaries. Though far from a gimmick, he must develop a sharper creative vision to truly realize his artistic potential.