With one of the most anticipated albums of the decade, more direct and provocative than ever before, 2026 marks the beginning of a new musical era with A$AP.
Anja StankovićJanuary 22, 2026
After eight years under the public microscope, millions of intrusive questions, and relentless pressure, one of my favorite celebrities in the truest sense of the word returns with a version of fatherhood that is unexpectedly tender-threaded through rap verses, empty courtrooms, and answers that won’t satisfy those hungry for drama from the famous artist, fashion icon, and visionary.
As we all know, Rocky has spent nearly a decade as tabloid mainstay material: delayed albums, leaked tracks, and relationships that placed him more often in fashion editorials than in a rap context. The criminal trial for aggravated assault, which stretched from the 2021 Hollywood incident to his acquittal in February 2025, only intensified that chapter. Don’t Be Dumb is the album on which A$AP Rocky appears more stripped back than ever before—yet also visibly exhausted from having to constantly prove himself.
Much of the album is shaped by paranoia and a defensive posture born out of the years that followed it all. Tracks like Order of Protection and No Trespassing feel like extensions of real life rather than carefully constructed public narratives. Rocky comes across as someone who has been watched for a long time — and is now finally staring back.
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On STFU, he takes direct aim at the tabloids and the public’s obsession with his relationship with Rihanna and his new music, making no effort to conceal his anger. Fatherhood and partnership are framed as part of the same self-assured identity with which he once spoke about fame, money, and status. The court case lingers throughout the album, but instead of offering relief or erasing years of pressure, it only reinforces its guarded, wary tone.
At the same time, the album makes room for vulnerability and melancholy, especially in its more intimate moments, where Rocky admits to feeling lonely and wary of the people around him. And while flashes of his old bravado and confidence still surface, Don’t Be Dumb feels far more like a record about survival, burnout, and growing up than a calculated attempt to reclaim any kind of “throne.”
A collaboration with Tim Burton
A$AP Rocky wouldn’t be an icon if a new album were the only thing marking his return. In case you missed it, Winona Ryder’s recent appearance in the video for Punk Rocky caused a genuine wave of excitement—among my colleagues and across the internet alike. Riding that same momentum, A$AP now delivers something we truly haven’t seen before: a collaboration between two seemingly distant worlds—the opulence of hip-hop culture and gothic cinematic aesthetics—with none other than Tim Burton. And not just through illustrated cover art, but via Burton’s personal involvement in the new music video for Whiskey / Black Demarco.
Related: Winona Ryder in A$AP Rocky’s video is the pop culture dose I needed in January
This short, loosely cinematic piece isn’t a spectacle only for the music world—fans hungry for high-quality 2D animation are just as thrilled by Burton’s instantly recognizable characters, who unleash a perfectly orchestrated chaos across the streets of Manhattan.
The video is directed by Rocky and his AWGE collective, and the story begins when Burton accidentally releases six illustrated characters from his sketchbook onto the streets of New York. These figures – GR1M, MR. MAYERS, RUGAHAND, BABUSHKA BOI, DUMMY, and SHIRTHEAD – all created by Burton himself, represent different chapters in the rapper’s stylistic evolution.
As an equally devoted fan of both artists, the video left me buzzing with excitement and a heavy sense of anticipation (if not outright hope) that other rappers might once again embrace visual art as an essential part of their musical projects. From the illustrations and fashion looks that trace the different eras of Rocky’s style, to the storytelling and hypnotic beats, this is the one track I’ve found myself instinctively returning to over the past few days, playing it on repeat.
I think that’s because I’ve always loved hip-hop and rap for the stories they tell – and the fact that this one is told in such a way makes it feel truly unique. And, perhaps tellingly, it’s one of those rare songs that I find easier to watch as a video than to listen to as an isolated audio track on streaming platforms – a rare case of an artist genuinely listening to what their audience wants.
