Album art for ‘Mercy’ by Backwoodz Studioz.

If there were ever a combination of raw talent to marvel at in this decade, Armand Hammer & The Alchemist might be it. The former is composed of two of the most boundary-pushing underground rappers we’ve had in a long time: ELUCID and billy woods, who have created some of the most mind-blowing rap projects of the 2020s, both as a pair and in their solo endeavors. Their rejection of conventional rhythm and off-kilter lyricism makes them impossible to tune out. The latter hardly needs an introduction — The Alchemist’s dusty, meticulous soul chops can be found all across the 2020s rap landscape.

Beyond the duo’s awe-inspiring musical acumen, there’s no reason to expect that this group of underground rap heroes wouldn’t be perfect together. The Alchemist is no stranger to the eerie, unorthodox vibes needed to match Armand Hammer, as their penchant for experimentation matched perfectly with The Alchemist’s ear for nontraditional production on their previous project.

However, the resulting album, Mercy, is difficult to grapple with. As an ardent supporter of experimental hip-hop, it’s easy to cheer for these underdogs displaying their unmistakably personal styles of expression, but throughout the project, there’s an unsettling feeling of complacency from the avant-garde artists.

The trio does intermittently overcome this stagnation on the record’s highlights. There are some absolutely stunning verses from the two sporadic spitters, rife with political complexities. ELUCID brings a violent, nervous energy to his verses, with perhaps his most chillingly callous line being “1-800-COPS-SHOT, if you need a hotline” on “Moonbow.” Woods brings his own incisive, worldly lyricism on “No Grabba,” drawing a haunting parallel between a hustler lifestyle and post-colonialism, rapping “pinch my nose and get this bread like IMF loan.”

While the verses never fail to paint a vivid picture, there is a sort of formula to what they’re doing throughout the album. No two verses are exactly the same, but none are so different from the others, either. Throughout the 14 tracks, a monotonous rhythm emerges that fails to encapsulate their true brilliance.

Still, the real Achilles’ heel of this project might be its producer, The Alchemist, who delivers mixed results on his nocturnal loops. Some standouts really do push the rappers to their limits — “Laraaji” creates an explosive and jittery start for the album, while “Longjohns (Ft. Cleo Reed & Quelle Chris)” might be one of the grooviest pieces The Alchemist has ever made — but they are few and far between, a marathon of sleepy pianos and Alchemist-trademarked muted drums.

It might be unfair to criticize The Alchemist for a style of production that he has arguably perfected, but this wouldn’t be giving him enough credit for how well he can synergize with rappers. His more low-key beats are excellent in the hands of a smooth, slick talker like Freddie Gibbs, but The Alchemist also knows when to spice things up for his more bizarre colleagues — and when he fails to do so, the result is a mismatch.

Still, the production style by no means makes the rest of the project unlistenable. The beats go down so easily that you might even forget they’re there. But that’s sort of the problem. These beats aren’t pushing the rappers too far outside their comfort zone, nor are they stealing the show with any gripping aesthetic choices. And if that’s the case, what is the driving force of this album?

While there is no doubt that billy woods and ELUCID are talented, their art is very much situational. They are not suited for every style of production, and their loose lyrics require the proper foundation. Too often on this project, The Alchemist seems content to let them flounder in background music. Tracks like “Dogeared (Ft. Kapwani)” and “Super Nintendo”* *bring none of the bite nor the nuance that characterize The Alchemist’s best beats, dragging the pacing of the already lethargic album to a crushing halt.

There is a level of audacity required to make beats and write verses in the way that these gentlemen do, given their complete lack of commercial viability and easy listening appeal. But parts of this album seem reluctant to live in that reality. Despite its underground context, it almost seems like they’re content with a version of their music that is more palatable.

In theory, there’s absolutely no problem with this. It’s exciting when obscure styles get the chance to loosen up for a more mainstream audience. They can take their usual style and make it catchy, anthemic or just a little easier to listen to. But Mercy trades away the cutting-edge intrigue of Armand Hammer’s best works while providing very little in its place.

There’s still plenty of quality to be found in Mercy, but it doesn’t include anything you couldn’t find in better form from the artists’ previous works. Ironically, the lack of inspired song ideas leaves this eccentric rap group feeling a little … ordinary.

*Daily Arts Contributor Nathaniel Evans can be reached at natevan@umich.edu. *