“Here to save the game like a memory card,” is MC/producer, Black Milk. The Detroit rapper has returned to deliver Album of the Year. An LP with a deceiving title, due to the fact it isn’t an attempt to claim the top spot on any best of 2010 list. On the contrary the title refers to the summation of the motor-city MC’s troubling 2009 that saw the death of his aunt, as well as his friend, and original Slum Village member, Baatin. If that wasn’t enough the twelve months of tribulation boiled over when Black was in a car accident just weeks after finding out his manager was in a coma. Still, every cloud has a silver lining, and the trying times forced Curtis Cross to emerge into the new decade with material showcasing some of his best production to date.

Black Milk really likes drums, like, a lot, but let’s be honest, in the world of hip hop the phrase “Too many drums” is seldom used. Any true hip hop fan goes to at least half-chubb at the sound of a properly used kit, and proper is an understatement when discussing Black Milk. As well as forging bass and snares on his MPC, he’s employed the live percussion skills of Daru Jones to the tracks, “Oh Girl, Over Again, and Round of Applause,” which provides a type of soothing ruckus not heard since the Harlem Renaissance. While the beats can become crowded at times and overpower Black’s voice, it’s unfair to punish him for it. He’s just showing off what he does best.

It’s rare to discuss Black Milk without also bringing up J Dilla, and for good reason. Black’s style is reminiscent to the fellow Detroit producer, as he explores the time-honored art of crate digging and soulful guitar samples. The comparison doesn’t leave Black mixing loops in Dilla’s shadow, but rather standing poised and ready as the next in line to inherit the acclaim. The triumphant sound of the single “Welcome (Gotta Go) boasts a Moog sample that even Black was surprised Dilla didn’t already use; and the Blackrock sampled, “Deadly Medley,” is an unabashed homage to the late production mastermind in which Black, Royce Da 5’9, and Elzhi enter a playful cypher exchanging turbulent flows like white water tributaries.

Lyrically, Black Milk fits snuggly into his tailored rhythms. Criticism could potentially be aimed at his slightly lacking self-promoting battle-rap stylings, but the bottom line is the man breathlessly serves up metaphor after reference after simile while rarely getting snagged on the edges of his sharp production. It may not be the album of the year, but with the clearly audible heart and soul of it all, it could easily be the album of his career.