Chance the Rapper makes a truly sensational comeback with 'Star Line'

USA Today

11 hours ago

If you take away anything from Star Line, Chance the Rapper's first major project since 2019's polarizing The Big Day, it's that the Chicago hip-hop dignitary's signature "And we back!" has never meant more than now.
The juxtaposition of The Big Day and Star Line is impossible to miss. The former gave Chance a victory lap for the ages after 2016's rainbow comet-strike of Coloring Book, the commanding capper on his holy trilogy from the mixtape movement built by 2012's 10 Day and 2013's seminal Acid Rap that confirmed his superstardom.
The Big Day came from an artist who knew he'd won the marathon and was ready to expand his reach past the DatPiff faithful. This was the Chance who saw his dreams come true, who rose to be his Chi-town idol Kanye West's heir apparent on "Ultralight Beam" and saw then-President Barack Obama put "Acid Rain" on his 2016 summer playlist. His first formal album played like a playlist for a wedding reception, with its audience largely confused as to whether or not it was invited. For some, it was Chance joyfully embracing his golden status in the mainstream, with features ranging from Gucci Mane and Lil Durk to Randy Newman and Death Cab for Cutie. It was harmless fun.
However, The Big Day's evident "bigness" saw the project get a bad rep from day-one Chance fans, turning against its unexpectedly bubbly spirit, its braggadocious shout of newlywed love from a guy at the top of the world. No longer was this the scrappy Lil Chano from 79th; he was Chance the Rapper, Grammy winner and rap titan.
That album largely eschewed some of the paranoid smoke-session angst of Acid Rap and the soulful surcharge of Coloring Book for poppier fields. The Big Day came out less than a year before the COVID-19 pandemic, and you wonder if the album had come out a year later if it would've gotten the Ted Lasso treatment as a perfectly fine piece of already-ran pop culture amplified to balm the masses against the harshest 2020 had to offer. Alas, not to be.
Six years passed since Chance celebrated The Big Day, and August's Star Line affirms that he's been through some stuff. His divorce from Kirsten Corley and his recent travels to nations like Jamaica and Ghana play a pivotal role in the thematic journey on which Chance takes his listeners, one where he provides wisened, battle-tested introspection of self, people and globe of the likes he never has in his explosive career.
Star Line recaptures the sonic excellence and lyrical ambition of Coloring Book while providing a more world-weary foundation on which he builds some of his most striking homilies. Chance has never let go of his mixtape days' refusal to let go of childlike wonder amidst his loss of innocence, but Star Line finds a more mature beauty in tumultuous life experience.
From the start, we hear some of the crispest delivery Chance has unleashed in his career on "Star Side Intro," a crash-course in an artist who has learned hard lessons and come out of them stronger. Sure, we get the Chance features we love, the clever wordplay and pop culture references, but this also affirms a Chance the Rapper ready to fight because he's had to fight, ready to take on what life throws at him. "Put on that full armor; learned that from my mama," Chance sings right after warning the world that he's not messing around with his music any longer.
It's one of the best songs of his career, a pitch-perfect sailing through an artist who seems to have come out better on the other side of tragedy and self-exploration. The rest of the album carries that unabashed, humbled willingness to dig deeper, to speak out against injustice, to rage against the machine, to love himself again and surrender to the effervescent mystery of the cosmos in faith without sacrificing the defiance on which he forged his many talents.
"Ride" glides like a cruise to better places that brings out a show-stopping guest verse from legendary Chicago outfit Do or Die, while the gut punch of "No More Old Men" laments the violence that curbs generations and makes a wonderful world smaller and more finite. "The Negro Problem" gives Chance his answer to Kendrick Lamar's "The Blacker the Berry" and Jay Z's "The Story of O.J.," a fiery examination of the Black experience gripped by oppression. "Back to the Go" mournfully studies a life in turmoil and heavily hints to post-marriage soul-searching, while 2022 single "The Highs & The Lows" fits well within the gallery of balancing life's best and worst moments.
"Space & Time" plays like a heartbreaking sequel to "Same Drugs" and gives the album its most chillingly romantic sojourn, as you can imagine a reflective Chance the Rapper, edified by his life's recent ups and downs, sitting on the bow of a ship amidst the Aurora Borealis and contemplating while giving himself the forgiveness he needs to sail on to more prosperous waters. You feel the rush of wind in your hair and the leap of faith into the unknown.
The album isn't afraid to lighten (and light) up. "Tree" is an Acid Rap-coded ode to rolling a joint to deal with life's stresses with a delightful Lil Wayne feature. The foreboding Ennio Morricone Untouchables piano key clacks and rat-a-tat delivery on "Drapetomania" should make its ways to the club sooner than later. BabyChiefDoit rolls in on that song for a breakout verse that should help translate his TikTok rap success to bigger notices very soon.
Star Line's back nine pays homage to his Francis and the Lights days ("Link Me in the Future"), reunites Chance with beloved collaborators (Young Thug on "Gun in Yo Purse," Jay Electronica on "Just A Drop," BJ the Chicago Kid on "Speed of Light") and flips the temple tables on Chance's righteous-angriest song to date, "Letters." That song fire-and-brimstone sermon against the hypocrites of corrupt Christianity from someone sitting in the pews and seeing it firsthand. "Just A Drop" plays as Chance's most outward Gospel song since Coloring Book's "How Great."
Also, make sure not to skip out on "Pretty," which will almost assuredly cement itself as a hidden gem. It's a reminder to highlight self-love punctuated by a haunting, OVO-influenced sample of DeBarge's "All This Love" that dances around like a refracted kaleidoscope against the modern Sound Wall. It's a song that could be mistaken for vanity, instead coated in healing humility.
The album's emotional undercurrent is twofold. Part of it comes from Chance breaking his heart open and showing us what he's lived through, what it's taught him and how he wants it to shape him. Part of it comes from the fact that, after more than half a decade, we have Chance the Rapper back right where he belongs. Those who hold the Chicago rap legend near and dear can take heart that Chance has returned to full form. Those college dorm Acid Rap listens and sweltering summer 2016 Coloring Book car listens weren't in vain. If you loved those albums, you guard them with all your might. For an artist that has never struggled to synthesize something profound out of nostalgia, Chance the Rapper honors how deeply folks hold his mixtape era and how much it meant with Star Line.
Chance the Rapper's latest project is an extraordinary comeback from a generational force. It's heads-and-shoulders one of the best rap albums of 2025 (and one of the best albums, period), a year already marked with a phenomenal Clipse reunion, a couple of sensational Alchemist collaborations and standout projects from Tyler the Creator, JID, Open Mike Eagle and Playboi Carti. It's a radiant reminder of Chance's breathtaking abilities.
Sure, this Chance the Rapper may not focus in on the same precious mischief that reflected on the love of his grandma on "Sunday Candy" or growing up way, way too fast on "Cocoa Butter Kisses." However, the heart of who Chance the Rapper is has never been clearer on Star Line. It's the monumental vessel that brings him back home.
"And we back," indeed.