It's hard to imagine Berkeley High School alumni Marjorie -W.C. Sinclair walking the halls of the C Building. You'd be hard pressed to imagine him walking anywhere, actually. The rapper, also known as Evanora Unlimited and housepett, seems to live in a constantly blood-drenched pocket dimension filled with bathtubs, milk, and ketamine. This guy is weird. However, it's his disturbingly authentic style that really differentiates him from similar artists like Baby Tron. Marjorie isn't interested in the laid back, half-satirical vision that propelled early scam rappers to fame. Far from faking it until he makes it, Marjorie is more interested in creating worlds.
That's what 22nd Chances feels like, at least. He reuses vocal samples relentlessly, entwining shockingly vulnerable voice lines from a rom-com with machine gun layered cries pulled from a grisly sci-fi anime series. Bouncy synth pop samples morph into stripped down drum beats as Marjorie recounts his travels, heartbreaks, and favorite firearms. There's a lot going on here under the monotonous delivery, with tracks like "Nexus 3" being impossible to not bounce your head to, and "Train to Barcelona" showing true knowledge of what makes something sonically interesting. He's playing a character, of course, but the real Marjorie is so shrouded in mystery anyway that you might just want to believe it. There's something infectious about his purposefully indistinct one liners, from "I might need a couple tools if we go thru with dis" to "I'm just playin' with you it's gon be alright jus keep it moving." Maybe that's what makes this album so surprising, slivers of universal truth hidden in genuinely creative Detroit rap. Technically, 22nd Chances is less impressive. Marjorie drifts off the beat in ways that are bound to turn off listeners who value polish in production. All things considered, this album shows more than promise from the Bay Area rapper: he's already executing on ideas most underground artists only hint at. Even if you go into 22nd Chances expecting to hate it, a few tracks are bound to stick in Marjorie's signature uneasy fashion.