Donald Glover doesn't make anything easy. The defining characteristic of his extraordinary FX show, , is its surreal swerves; as his musical alter-ego, Childish Gambino, his preferred genre is restless; in the rare instance that he gives a profile, it demands close attention to unwritten winks; and he's never been one for releasing art through traditional protocols.
Case in point: Last Sunday, an album called Donald Glover Presents appeared out of the blue on his website one moment, and the next moment it was gone, leaving fans and bloggers befuddled. This past weekend, a countdown clock showed up on his website without explanation. And yesterday at midnight, when the clock expired, the album re-emerged-as a continuous stream on his website, or separate tracks on streaming services-this time purportedly for good. It's now titled 3.15.20 (the day the album first dropped), and 10 of its 12 songs have been titled simply with their time signatures within the album (the other two are called "Algorhythm" and "Time").
It's unclear whether the album-which Glover has said will be his last as Childish Gambino-was initially leaked, or if the patchwork release was all part of Glover's grand plan. Is its work-in-progress nature a failure of imagination or a lofty artistic statement? Glover likes to lean into his genius mystique-keeping fans on their toes and sometimes even giving them a little push as they wobble. So it's unsurprising that mum's been the word from Glover's camp-both about the release and the album itself. The mystery feeds into the art. At present, a lot of people, unfortunately, don't have a lot to do, and you can bet there will be deep readings into Glover's cryptic gestures.
The album itself invites both interpretations-that it was casually tossed off and that it's striving for brilliance. Half of the tracks are more than five minutes long. And rather than adhering to traditional pop structures, they meander-moving from heavenly ambient sounds to punishing industrial beats, one corner of the globe to the other, early Gambino to late, from song to song and sometimes within the span of a single song. 3.15.20 includes big ideas, versatile approaches, and beautiful lyrics ("Why would we ever change? / Planets never see a day that isn't towards the Sun / Bliss is a cheap emotion, everyone here seems to afford / So I don't know why I'm here without you, you"); by the same token, if you feel like certain songs ramble, it would be tough to argue. There's a lot to enjoy on 3.15.20, but it does require some submission ( don't hit next on those long ones!) and commitment (a background in Yeezus is required to enjoy "32.22").
Really, with the exception of "42.26" (which you probably know as "Feels Like Summer" from Gambino's 2018 Summer Pack), these aren't songs so much as they're chapters on one extended journey. The album's path is onward and outward, rather than along the predictable waves most albums move through. It's kind of amazing that Gambino makes this feel natural, considering he goes from RoboCop-style rapping about society moving like we're controlled by an algorithm early on to singing the tropical, carefree "42.26" much later.
With times for titles, it's hard to grow attached to-much less recall-individual songs, anyway. Instead, it's moments within songs to which you'll want to return: Ariana Grande sounds fantastic on "Time"; 21 Savage adds some solid bars at the end of "12.38" ("I'm on a private jet eatin' Popeyes chicken / I be flexin' like I'm eatin' Popeye's spinach"); the nursery-rhyme-sounding chorus of the trapping song "35.31" ("Little Foot, Big Foot, get out the way") will be lodged in my head for the next week; and the conversation Glover has with his son on "47.48" is heartwarming enough to offset some of Gambino's cynicism.
That last moment makes "47.48" my personal favorite track. It's not simply the earnest innocence of the younger Glover's expressions of love-it's the way his bright outlook is juxtaposed with his father's world-weary one ("Little girl, thirteen, broke down / The violence / Little boys playing 'round, shot down / The violence, the violence," Gambino sings earlier in the song). There's hope amidst the murky reality.
3.15.20 is full of provocations-like on "This Is America," he'll make dark songs sound bright and vice versa. Gambino, it often seems, doesn't want his final album to be accessible to everyone. And yet the album's also got heart. You just have to work a little bit for it.
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