Mercy

The symbolism of this album, poetic and interconnected, is vital and immense, while the sonic background is (for the most part) disquieting and unnerving. More so than Haram and even the spectral Test Strips, Mercy captures a world that is slowly embracing the unbearable evil of switching channels that morph to dead static.

There’s a modesty and mundanity to Mercy that distinguishes it from some of their most imposing work: Haram hit hard and loud, a claustrophobic sprawl of baroque menace that reset the temperature of underground rap; Shrines and Paraffin constructed vast symbolic architectures around violence, religion, and empire; even 2023’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips thrived on friction, humor, and jittery movement. Mercy, by contrast, is quieter in affect and smaller in scope.

For listeners drawn to the art of hip-hop, the music meant to stand the test of time, Mercy is a feast.

Mercy inventively illustrates grim situations and addresses serious, sometimes brutal subject matter in an engaging and intellectually stimulating way.

Mercy shows woods and Elucid delving more deeply into surrealism, their lyrical flows, brimming with uninhibited leaps, often bordering on stream-of-consciousness. The Alchemist’s approach is lighter, his treatments perhaps more precisely wielded than on Haram. With Mercy, Armand Hammer continue to radicalize and aestheticize rap, pushing language beyond the conventional – all while reflecting the savage world we live in.

If Haram was the Alchemist’s entry to Armand Hammer’s world, Mercy is a shared vision. There’s a greater understanding of what they can create together, and a willingness to add other sounds into their combined vocabulary.

The Alchemist's patented gangster music soundtracks, full of moody textures and synths, can sound quite placid. It's up to Armand Hammer and co to bring rough tension and focus to an album that often feels overly atmospheric, despite standout cuts like "Dogeared" and "Super Nintendo". [Dec 2025, p.63]