Twenty88 is the chosen name of the duo of rapper Big Sean and R&B singer Jhené Aiko. In an interview about the group's inspiration with Flaunt, Aiko said, "It's a '70s aesthetic, but we're in the future," citing the A.I. psychological thriller Ex Machina as an inspiration. What materialized was an album of sex jams about dysfunctional relationships, which begs the question, what exactly do they think Ex Machina is about? Nonetheless, it makes sense that Sean would see his reflection in the shiny metal alloy of a sci-fi flick since his raps are often mechanically engineered—setup, setup, punchline, repeat. But on Twenty88, he is about as human-sounding as he's ever been, thanks in large part to Aiko.

As a pair, Aiko and Sean complement each other well; the former once called Drake her "musical soulmate," but that distinction is probably better suited here. The L.A. singer-songwriter has a mewing voice that nestles just into the casing of her rap counterpart's cadences. They pen verses in a similar fashion, too, curt and to the point, usually only rendering love interests as incomplete sketches; her method is to vilify and his is to write around his subject, but they are usually on the opposite end of the same conclusion: I'm right.

This is most evident on "Selfish," where they take turns putting the blame on one another, trading accusations over stringy guitar licks that loop through skipping production. The KeY Wane, Amaire Johnson, and Cam O'bi-produced opener, "Deja Vu," finds the two viewing a shared past through different lenses. This is why, when it's connecting, their collaboration works: it turns two self-centered POVs into a whole.

In that way, the album is a logical extension of the other Sean-Aiko collaborations—"Beware" from Hall of Fame and "I Know" from last year's marginally better Dark Sky Paradise. But on those songs, Jhené Aiko stayed mostly in the margins. The idea here is to juxtapose male and female perspectives, not with the hope of finding some type of balance or a middle ground, but simply to see that both voices are equally represented, and when one of them isn't spouting cliches ("What's the difference between real love and fake love/ The same difference between real titties and fake ones/ You can feel the difference," from "Talk Show") it's fully functional.

Big Sean is still fully capable of reverting back to old bad habits, and on Twenty88, he bring his fair share of clunkers ("You know that year you said I lost my marbles"/ Well I guess I turned them all to marble floors," on "Memories Faded"; "You the real real, no GMO," on "2 Minute Warning"). He's prone to rambling, will drag schemes out too long, and he isn't afraid to overcommit. But he strings together enough solid stretches to keep tracks moving. Still, Aiko is often the saving grace, holding songs together and delivering the better verses. She sells all of the longing on "On the Way," which writhes in carnal anticipation. Her warm harmonies melt into the backdrop of the thrusting "Push It." On "2 Minute Warning," she forms a chorus with famed R&B duo K-Ci & JoJo, and manages not to get swallowed up, as the song hits another gear and Sean marches through with barreling raps. They come perilously close to venturing full-on into vapid battle-of-the-sexes territory, but manage to survive on their chemistry.