Saba’s ‘Few Good Things’: Hard-Won Joy, Sharpened Craft

Saba’s third album, “Few Good Things,” runs 14 tracks and 47 minutes, and it sounds like a man taking stock. Where his earlier work sat inside grief, this record steps outside it and looks for daylight. The Chicago rapper builds a warm, detailed world here, one that holds both hard memory and real joy, and he does it without losing the sharp, dense writing that got him noticed in the first place. This is an album that wants to sound like relief after years of weight, and for the most part it earns that feeling.

Free Samples Through Fearmonger

The album opens with “Free Samples,” a short, clear statement of intent at 2:07, before “One Way or Every Nigga With a Budget” opens up the frame at 2:45. “Survivor’s Guilt” is one of the record’s best early moments, direct and unflinching about what it costs to make it out when others didn’t. The song names its subject plainly and does not look away from it.

“An Interlude Called ‘Circus'” is exactly what it says, a brief breath before the album turns tense again. “Fearmonger” follows at 3:41 and stands among the album’s best tracks — it’s tightly wound, anxious, and precise, the kind of song that shows Saba can still write with real force in his voice. The beat presses forward, and Saba matches it line for line.

Come My Way and Still

“Come My Way” slows the pace and lets the production breathe at 3:10; it’s one of the tracks that critics have singled out, and it’s easy to hear why. The soul influence one outlet pointed to is clearest here, that blend of “whimsical and spiritual” tones drawn from soul music mixed with sharp, conscious rap writing. The song feels open, like a window has been pushed wide.

“Still,” at 3:45, sits at the center of the album’s front half. It’s patient and unhurried, built on the kind of tight flow and thoughtful writing that Metacritic’s critic noted keeps the record “eminently thoughtful and enjoyable.” The phrase stands on its own, and it fits this song as well as it fits the whole project. Saba never rushes a line he doesn’t need to rush, and the song trusts its own pace completely.

A Simpler Time to Stop That

“A Simpler Time,” “Soldier,” and “If I Had a Dollar” form the album’s middle stretch, and they hang together well. “A Simpler Time” looks back at an easier period without turning it into a fantasy; the memory stays warm but honest. “Soldier” carries a heavier step, and its verses land with a steady, deliberate weight.

“If I Had a Dollar,” at 3:13, is the sharpest of the three, a clear standout that critics have called out by name, and it earns that attention with some of Saba’s tightest verses on the record. The hook is simple, but the writing underneath it is anything but.

“Stop That,” short at 2:18, is a quick burst of energy between heavier songs.

It doesn’t ask for much attention, and it doesn’t need to.

Make Believe, 2012, and the Title Track

The closing run is where the album makes its strongest case. “Make Believe” runs 3:41 and sets up the two songs that follow as a real ending rather than something added at the last minute. It has a patient, unhurried feel that lets the record slow down without losing momentum.

“2012” stretches to 4:20 and looks backward with clear eyes, tying the album’s themes of loss and staying alive together without repeating what “Survivor’s Guilt” already said. It’s a song built on memory, but it never feels stuck there — it moves forward even as it looks back. The title itself names a specific year, and Saba fills that year with specific detail.

Then there’s the title track. “Few Good Things” closes the album at 7:08, by far the longest song here, and it plays like a summary of everything the record has been building toward — patience, detail, and warmth that was hard won rather than given easily. It earns its length because it uses every minute.

“Few Good Things is a vibrant, technicolour celebration of life’s triumphs and joys.”

That’s how one Metacritic critic put it, and the phrase fits. This is an album about holding on to joy on purpose, not because it comes easy, and the title track is where that idea gets its fullest airing. The quote names the record’s central move: celebration as a deliberate act.

Where It Falls Short

The album’s main weakness is familiarity. Saba’s flows, his production choices, his instincts on the page — they’re all recognizable from his earlier work, and some listeners will feel the record doesn’t push far past what he’s already done. One Metacritic critic summed up this tension directly: “The record’s impact can’t help being slightly blunted by a strong sense of familiarity… but the rapper’s tight flows and introspective lyricism… ensure that ‘Few Good Things’ remains an eminently thoughtful and enjoyable listen.”

That’s a fair complaint, and it’s worth taking seriously. But it does not weaken the craft on display across these 14 tracks. The writing stays dense from the first song to the last, the performances stay controlled even on the longer tracks, and the album’s arc — from guilt to gratitude — holds together across all 47 minutes without losing shape. The songs that work best here work because Saba knows exactly what he does well.

Runtime and Scores

• Artist: Saba
• Album: Few Good Things
• Release type: Album
• Track count: 14
• Total running time: 47 minutes
• Metacritic score: 83/100

The Case for Few Good Things

“Few Good Things” does not change Saba’s sound into something new. It makes what was already there more exact. The tight flows and thoughtful writing that have followed him across his career are still here, sharper than usual, and the album’s best songs — “Survivor’s Guilt,” “Fearmonger,” “Still,” “If I Had a Dollar,” and the title track — prove he doesn’t need a new style to make a strong record.

This is Saba’s most complete album to date. It doesn’t reach for a dramatic change of who he is as an artist, and it doesn’t need to — the depth is already there, and this record simply gives it more room to breathe than anything he’s made before. The result is an album that rewards patience, and that patience pays off across every one of its 47 minutes.

album review · Chicago rap · Few Good Things · hip-hop · Saba