Erase the jazz you’d find splattered all over Injury Reserve’s previous material and highlight the, well highlight a bunch of things. Start by highlighting Parker’s simplistic chaos. Highlight Ritchie’s new developed aptitude as an MC and Grogg’s storytelling that ages like wine. The list could easily go on. Injury Reserve is the dime you’d find digging through a bunch of low-key records without having a single clue of what you were about to experience. Trying to categorize this thing is virtually impossible.