Ken Carson’s fourth studio album, “More Chaos,” feels like walking through a collapsing building while listening to the same alarm on loop.
Released on April 11, 2025, the album continues Ken Carson’s rage-trap style with heavy 808s, distorted vocals, and a harsh delivery. Instead of building on the foundation laid by his 2023 project “A Great Chaos,” it repeats it ad nauseam.
From the opening track, “Lord of Chaos,” the album barrels forward, but not in a cathartic or experimental way. The “Chaos” here is blunt and graceless, more exhausting than exhilarating. This kind of noise has been Carson’s trademark, but here, the noise isn’t sculpted or shaped. It’s just there. Saturated and blaring, with the nuance of a car alarm.
Tracks like “Xposed” and “Dismantled” promise intensity but fall flat due to repetitive structures and interchangeable flows. Carson doesn’t just reuse ideas from “A Great Chaos,” he copies them one-to-one. Where that album flirted with unpredictability and flashes of innovation, More Chaos feels like a contractual obligation. On “Dismantled,” he raps, “I wake up and get to the bag / I don’t care ‘bout none of the past,” a line so uninspired it feels recycled . There’s a sterile, checked-out feeling to much of the lyricism, like even Carson knows he’s coasting.
Lyrically, “More Chaos” is barren. Carson loops through the same lines about money, guns, and girls with all the imagination of a Twitter bot. On “Money Spread,” he raps, “I got racks, I got sticks, I got baddies on my list,” a line indistinguishable from half the album’s bars. Even tracks like “Root of All Evil” and “200 Kash” tease darker, more introspective ideas, but ultimately settle for recycled boasts. Instead of evolving as a songwriter, Carson seems content to echo flexes until the meaning of the song fades entirely.
“Trap Jump” is one of the few moments where Carson channels his chaos into something listenable, a high-tempo banger with sharp momentum and a beat that earns the blaring volume it’s wrapped in. “Blakk Rokkstar” flirts with that same off-kilter vibe as well. But these anomalies are fleeting moments in a twenty two track loop of sameness. “LiveLeak” tries to go cinematic but ends up clunky, its potential forfeit by underwritten verses and half-formed ideas.
The second half of the album attempts to shift tonally into more melodic territory, with tracks like “Down2Earth,””Kryptonite,” and “Naked,” but these feel like rough sketches, ideas missing a hook, mood or purpose. Carson croons in heavy auto-tune over murky synths, hoping to summon emotion, but there’s no soul behind the sound. Instead of contrast, it’s just more filler. “K-Hole” and “Psycho” continue the descent into haze, abandoning rage for muddled moodiness that never lands.
The final track, “Off the Meter,” featuring Playboi Carti and Destroy Lonely, should have been a redeeming moment, a return to the chaos that was promised and once defined Carson’s scene. Instead, it feels like a missed opportunity. Carti sounds half-asleep, Carson sounds recycled and the chemistry that once made the Opium label exciting is nowhere to be found.
From a production standpoint, “More Chaos” is technically loud, but emotionally flat. The mixing constantly buries Carson’s vocals in distortion, making it hard to tell if it’s even intentional or a sloppy lack of clarity. Either way, it prevents any chance at lyrical redemption. The result is a project that parodies the rage music that Carson is known for, more aesthetic than substance and more attitude than artistry.
Ken Carson’s past work, especially “Teen X” and “A Great Chaos,” were evidence that he could ride the line between punk rebellion and trap finesse, a sentiment that’s often affirmed at his live performances. But “More Chaos” isn’t rebellious or refined. It’s the sound of an artist stuck in his own echo chamber, too comfortable to grow and too uninterested to push forward.
Bottom line: “More Chaos” is less a musical statement and more a looped screenshot of Ken Carson’s past work and proof the chaos without control is just creative decay—leading to a score of 4/10.