Mati keeps his singular flow open to interpretation. 'Some Can Relate', the Minneapolis-based rapper/singer’s forthcoming full-length debut, is a coming-of-age collection built from personal experience, but as its title suggests, the scenes and sentiments are more universal. Some Can Relate finds Mati more intentional and ambitious, delivering with urgency over backdrops that straddle hip-hop, pop, and R&B. Born in Ethiopia and raised in South Minneapolis, Mati shapes his music from the architecture of life: the foundation, his mother’s gospel music and his father’s refugee journey, and the structure, a range of present-day relationships, obstacles, and observations. His gifts for melodic and rhythmic wordplay find connections that transcend the specifics. Sequenced thoughtfully, with skits and all, Some Can Relate elevates Mati to the next level in his craft; it’s a cohesive statement from an unmistakable talent on the rise. 

The thirty-second opening salvo was recorded at the passenger seat; our driver is unemployed but committed to not resorting to his old ways. The scene sets up “truthful improv” with Mati immediately ripping the mic with a rapid-fire of ideas as guitar lines loop above the beat. The track showcases what makes his voice unique: a hybrid of intricate bars and higher register harmonies, two modes he moves between seamlessly. “I ain’t lie about shit, I ain’t ever felt like this,” he sings on the hook before jumping back into the verse, placing himself in various spaces, outlining a series of setbacks in the day-to-day grind — “there's a lot of truth to it,” he adds. “But you know, the rapping was almost like improvisation.”

Some Can Relate’s sound broadens and smears at “8PM” with Mati revving up into pure, punchy hypnotics. On “jazz therapy”, he stretches out into a smooth, soulful cadence, encircled by hi-hat taps and a shimmering sax solo. Then there’s “plz dnt interrupt my swag,” a feel-good anthem where Mati flexes over crunchy bass and harp-like flutters, taking aim at trend hoppers and culture vultures. “That's just me popping my shit,” he says, “talking my shit a little bit.”

Mati saves some of his most introspective moments for the album’s back half. “There’s always that bad, out there,” a voice reminds us on the crackling interlude, “you jus don’t know,” a segue into the poignant centerpiece “hated father.” Here, Mati assumes the role of an empathetic narrator, constructing a story from the perspective of a young father who’s been pushed out of the custody picture, a case often misunderstood and underrepresented in society. 

With the laid-back, slow jam “different,” he reflects on his days growing up, realizing he wanted more out of the path ahead and that music was his calling. “say” crosses gospel harmonics with stuttering trap beats as Mati engages the pressures of being a young man on that mission, declaring he’s “got a lot to still say, I’m noticing.” Which is clear from the sonic abundance of Some Can Relate, a debut overflowing with potential by an artist we’ll be hearing from for years to come.