Roc Marciano has carved out his own niche. The Long Island legend operates largely in the underground, without aligning himself with any major East Coast collectives. Instead, he helped shape the scene from behind the scenes, alongside Griselda and Mach-Hommy, pricing vinyl by their own standards rather than consumer expectations. This began in the mid-2010s, and since then, Roc has consistently produced stellar work. His releases may lack flashy rollouts, but the music itself is dazzling. His instrumentals are sharp and bleak, while his rhymes are tight and impactful. His latest project, 2023’s “Nothing Bigger Than the Program,” is a prime example of his skill, featuring an impressive collaboration with Jay Worthy. The title speaks volumes—working with Roc means playing by his rules. If rap had a “Heat Culture,” it would be the Marci Method.
In his new LP, “Marciology,” Roc outlines his updated philosophy for 2024. The rules have changed, and Roc has adapted. If you take aim at the king, you better not miss. Roc has dodged bullets and now makes others pay the price. Roc handles most of the production on “Marciology,” allowing the album to excel on multiple levels. Bar for bar, no one combines extravagance and economy like he does, offering morsels of brags suggesting generational wealth, keeping listeners hooked. The album’s cohesiveness makes it a unified work rather than a collection of songs. While standout moments abound, the emphasis is on the album as a whole. Nevertheless, there are many stellar tracks. On the self-titled opener, Roc crafts a beat with horror-movie synths and unconventional drums, creating a sense of unease and foreshadowing the album. He raps, “Ay, everything on me brand name / But you rarely see any brand names on me anyway.” For Roc, anything outside of himself is secondary. Amidst namedropping various figures, Roc offers insight into his mindset. “Breakin’ these hoes, makin’ plays, n-ggas gon’ hate to the grave / N-ggas gon’ hate to the, uh, n-ggas gon’ hate to the,” he spits, struggling to finish the line due to his disdain for jealousy and envy. Throughout “Marciology,” Roc is baffled by anyone who doesn’t fully appreciate him—and he has a point.
Even in vendetta-driven tracks, Roc’s bars reflect his dedication to his craft. He’s got more money, better taste, and finer women. On “Bad JuJu” with Larry June, he raps, “My face alone demands that you pay me handsome,” and describes his mink coats touching his ankles. He makes living in a one-bedroom Manhattan apartment sound like purgatory, concluding, “I don’t sleep on cotton, bitch.” Roc saves the funkiest beat for the finale, “Floxxx,” with skittering hi-hats and delirious synth runs. He showcases a fiery flow, playing with the beat’s melodies. It’s mostly an opportunity for Roc to vibe out with one-liners, but it serves as a palate cleanser. Efficiency isn’t Roc’s style; he’s about creating unique experiences. His albums are as much experiences as they are music, offering a glimpse into the life of one of New York’s best artists. He has the soul of an OG but never lets his experience date him—it’s evolve or die. On “Marciology,” Roc dazzles for 45 minutes, seamlessly blending highbrow and lowbrow themes. His philosophy, denser than Hegel, can be summed up simply: Roc just has it.
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