A Futuristic Summa revives Metro’s dormant ability to bring out the best in artists not named Future, and some of its guests clearly haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Young Dro’s intensity elevates everyone in his radius. The way the 46-year-old emcee switches from laid-back to triple-time spitting (“They Wanna Have Fun”) and incites a call-and-response without breaking stride (“WTF Goin”) makes it feel as though he’s rapping to get another record deal. Effort begets effort: Roscoe Dash’s smooth crooning seamlessly feeds into a reinvigorated Quavo imploring the ladies to twerk on “Butterflies (Right Now),” and on standouts like “Drip BBQ” and “I Like That,” Waka Flocka Flame, J Money, and 2 Chainz meet the occasion like they’re going bar-for-bar in a freestyle circle outside a gas station.
A nostalgia project such as this one reaches its saturation point when the less-impressive moments make you wonder why you’re not just switching to the original reference. Extended, momentum-killing stretches lurk throughout Discs 1 and 2 like landmines. Young Thug’s lethargic energy ensures that “Birthday” never gets off the ground (hard to imagine that song soundtracking your party), and an endless barrage of melodies in the same vocal register from Meany, Skooly, and Lil Baby turns “Don’t Stop Dancin” into a chore. “Issa Party” feels as though everyone tried to recreate Rich Kidz’s “My Partna Dem” from memory, while the inane refrain of “My Lil Shit” fastens to the beat’s high-pitched beeps in a manner that’s probably a little irritating to dogs and small children. You know it’s not really 2010 because over a decade ago, none of these tracks would’ve made the cut.
That’s the risk of the rose-tinted ethos of A Futuristic Summa, which tries to squeeze much of the past two decades of Atlanta trap into one big box. You can see it working when newer talents like YK Niece and BunnaB more than hold their own alongside the likes of Gucci Mane, Travis Porter, or Skooly—when the fusion of past and present proves that Atlanta’s rap scene remains an artistic beacon, just as it was for Metro as a teen. But there’s no stasis in a scene that cycles through styles and personalities this quickly, leaving you to wonder who among the ranks of this sprawling double album will be soundtracking the city’s future summers. The issue’s neatly synthesized in the final seconds of Disc 1, on “Still Turnt (Forever B$Shot),” where an excitable voice beckons to Metro: “We need some of that real music back, that old Atlanta back, man/We need some of that futuristic lean,” he says. It’s nice to visit the cotton-candy comfort of the past, but the answer for “what comes next” can’t simply be “more of the same.”
