Homeboy Sandman would presumably disagree with the philosophy of lunatic jazz tutor Terence Fletcher—there are more harmful things you can offer a person than gentle encouragement. On his song “Guilty,” the eternally verbose rapper comforts himself by paying tribute to the less-than-special: “Instead of feeling unsettled, I strive to recognize Olympians that don’t medal,” he languidly declares. “They still did a great job.” Ambitions of becoming exceptional are a fool’s errand, Sandman advises; he’d love to see the great pyramids of Egypt, but Mexico’s ruins are so much more conveniently located—sometimes it’s ok to accept substitutes.

Assertions that it’s fine to be fine—wrapped in about seven layers of that familiar Sandman irony—betray that, at his best, Sandman is an exceptional artist: a talent that a rap-game Shaffer Conservatory would no doubt have recognized as singular. Shamelessly philosophical, sardonically charismatic, and prone to the occasional sneering rant, the Queens native is a man apart from similarly out-there contemporaries such as Action Bronson and Aesop Rock (a frequent collaborator). For all his posturing about settling for less, “Guilty,” the closing track to new project Solo Deo Gloria, is a marvellous Homeboy Sandman song. Imaginative, funny, serene, it typifies the album’s portrait of a 44-year-old settling into middle age comfortable in his own skin.

There’s a flip side to that sense of contentment. Almost two decades of intensely prolific recording have diminished Sandman’s ability to take us by surprise. Since 2020’s excellent, starkly honest Don’t Feed the Monster, a constant stream of new releases of mostly good-to-great music have largely come and gone. The artwork of Solo Deo Gloria offers a neat summarization: a collection of trophies and trinkets in a huge pile, like a copper and tin bonfire. His body of work keeps growing, but the sense of ceremony has evaporated.

A quick way to break from familiarity is to change up the people around you. Sandman has often favored a one-beatmaker-per-project approach, and on Solo Deo Gloria he teams with Sonnyjim, a veteran solo artist of the English underground. Appealing to Sandman’s eclectic proclivities, Sonnyjim uses fragments of 1960s pop rock and surf, dusty psych, spaced-out sci-fi scores, and jazz. There are some daring combinations: “Most Realest” matches a deep, grubby bassline with blaring uptown horns, with Sandman declaring himself apotheosis of the human mind’s evolution. But Sonnyjim is a draft pick who also fits the rapper’s increasingly blithe vocal style. Over the years, Sandman has gone from bruising subterranean spitter to sage-like dialectician. His bars are often clipped, his flow has slowed, and he doesn’t mind leaving dead space: On the cheerful “Nothing Less” he vibes over horns, organ, and very little percussion, spilling conversational sentences a little behind the beat, a pocket he appears to favor these days.