Brandon Mitchell’s GAMETIME is what happens when someone decides that instead of making another playlist-friendly rap project, they’ll drop a motivational playbook wrapped in boom-bap soul and unflinching honesty. It’s not just a collection of songs. It’s a PowerPoint presentation with 808s and scripture references, delivered by a guy who’s clearly done the reading and the suffering. And unlike the stream-chasing sludge that populates far too much of today’s musical landscape, GAMETIME actually has something to say. On purpose.
Where so many projects treat emotional depth like a trendy filter you slap on in post, Mitchell builds his foundation out of it. Every track feels intentional, with each bar, each metaphor, each hook carefully placed like the emotional equivalent of running practice drills until they’re second nature. There’s a clarity here that comes from not trying to impress anyone but yourself. Mitchell isn’t gunning for chart placement. He’s aiming for resonance.
There’s something charming about how GAMETIME approaches its central metaphor: life is a game, and you’re already winning. That sounds cheesy, like something you’d find stitched on a pillow in the self-help aisle. But Mitchell doesn’t say it like a slogan. He says it like someone who’s had to believe it when nothing else made sense. He’s not preaching from a mountaintop. He’s mid-game, still sweating, still praying, still pushing and inviting you to lace up and do the same.
The album unfolds like a sports season laced with spiritual undertones. You’ve got your teammates: family, friends, God. And you’ve got the opposition: doubt, setbacks, poverty, grief. It’s not subtle. It’s not trying to be. That’s kind of the point. There’s a sincerity here that pushes past irony and into something better: clarity. Mitchell isn’t giving you bars so you can nod your head. He’s giving you a blueprint so you can keep your head.
Take “Legendary Elevation,” a standout featuring the ethereal Nia Cheri. It’s less a duet and more of a sonic pep talk from a coach you actually respect. Her vocals give the track lift, while Mitchell’s verses stay planted firmly in the dirt of experience of faith, struggle, recovery. The contrast is beautiful: dreamlike flight supported by lived-in weight. There’s an unspoken message underneath it all: yes, you’re climbing, but you’re not climbing alone.
Then there’s “What We Doin,” featuring Bussy B, which is a song that stomps into the room like it knows it has something to prove. But here’s the twist: it doesn’t posture. It positions. This is the kind of track that walks the fine line between swagger and strategy; more locker room huddle than victory lap. Mitchell doesn’t need to flex because his presence already implies effort. And effort, in GAMETIME, is everything.
“Plays” continues the metaphor, bringing you deep into the playbook. There’s less bravado and more calculation, like listening to someone mapping out how to survive in a system rigged against them, but still daring to thrive. It’s motivational music that doesn’t feel hollow because it doesn’t ignore the cost of hope. Rather, it counts it.
But it’s the closer, “We Already Won,” where Mitchell pulls off something rare: spiritual closure that doesn’t feel preachy or sanitized. This isn’t the Hollywood ending; it’s the real one. It’s what you’d write in a journal after barely getting through the year, looking around at your people, your breath, your peace, and saying, “We’re still here. That’s the win.” It recalls Friday Night Lights-era J. Cole not just in tone, but in spirit. It’s victory, redefined as survival with soul intact.
The production avoids cheap dopamine hits and instead leans into warmth, patience, and intention. These aren’t beats begging for TikTok virality. They’re built to support reflection, not distraction. Soul samples, crisp drums, and just enough grit to make it feel lived-in—like a hoodie that’s seen better days but still fits just right.
What makes GAMETIME by Brandon Mitchell land so hard is that it doesn’t try to transcend struggle; it sits with it. It treats vulnerability not as a plot twist, but as the whole damn plot. This is hip hop that builds, not just brags. It’s music that invites you in, not because it needs fans, but because it knows you need this.
Brandon Mitchell has made something deceptively rare on GAMETIME. It’s an album that sounds like a conversation you didn’t know you needed. One that pushes past genre templates and into lived truth. If you’ve ever been down, disillusioned, or just damn tired, GAMETIME offers a simple, sacred reminder: you’re still in the game. And you’re already winning.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
