Maybe Rook Monroe didn’t set out to be a solo artist, but he was already deep in the room, writing, producing, and shaping records for Rihanna, The Chainsmokers, Aminé, and Jeremih. Somewhere between Chicago, Miami, and a stretch in Southern California, the work began pointing back at him. “Somebody,” the Natalie La Rose single he co-wrote, cracked something open. Since then, he has been building a catalog that blends genres with distilled honesty and sharp, seasoned lyricism, earning over 29 million global streams along the way.
His new EP, SLIM., released via Blueprint/Warner Records, is the clearest expression of that evolution with eight tracks, no filler, and zero allegiance to a single sound or tag. There’s pop-punk in the posture, R&B in the phrasing, rap in the bones, and synth-pop in the corners. It’s an unfiltered curation of what speaks to Rook and the world around him.
The opener, “i don’t wanna be you,” flips a familiar pop-punk anthem into a jagged self-portrait. He starts in melodic defiance, then cuts the beat and drops into a crooked grin rap over a gritty, jungle-leaning rhythm. “Polaroid” and “Brrrt” follow, with clipped bravado and a hook that sticks like gum to a sole. The production pivots mid-track, first a warped synth line, then a flute loop that sounds like it wandered in from another session and decided to stay. “Brrrt” also arrives with two contrasting visual takes, the surreal “Sitcom Version” and the gritty “Grunge Version,” which expand the track’s attitude in different directions.
“Mugshot” is the softest punch. It glides over keys and late-night air, but the lyrics catch. It’s a meditation on image, attention, and the cost of being seen. Elsewhere, the EP moves like a mood board in motion, the kind a restless genius might sketch out. “Fever” drifts, though not aimlessly. It unfolds in a slow, shimmering haze that feels like slipping into a dream at the exact moment the world starts bending at the edges. There’s a psychedelic calm to it, a quiet pulse that stretches alt-pop into something looser and more liquid, as if Rook were testing how far a feeling can travel before it becomes a vision. “Space Freaks” glitches and channels a hint of David Bowie, and “kaleidoscope” closes the loop with a line that ties the project together: “Life is messy, I got this kaleidoscope I see it through.”
Rook’s voice holds the center. He moves with ease across styles, drawing from a broad emotional and tonal range without slipping into inconsistency. The EP’s eclectic turns feel deliberate, not scattered, and his control across the spectrum is unmistakable. Is this his best work to date? It’s so dialed-in that the question feels beside the point. What remains is the depth of its impact.
All in all, SLIM. isn’t about proving what Rook Monroe can do; that’s been obvious for a while. The hits landed early, and his range was never in doubt. What this project shows is what happens when the direction is entirely his. Each track pulls from a different corner. The framework is loose by design, but the control is razor-tight. The choices are bold, the execution sharper. This isn’t genre play for the sake of it. It’s a practiced hand letting instinct lead and knowing exactly when to pull back. Few artists could pull off this kind of freeform with such audacity. Even fewer still could make it sound this freaking cool.
