There are artists who make music, and then there are artists whose music makes them. Jimmy Weber, through his rap persona Polite Riot, clearly belongs to the latter—a lyricist whose discography functions as a complex, vivid narrative of his life experiences, articulated through the lens of pop-culture nostalgia, unflinching introspection, and profound vulnerability. Polite Riot’s albums are part diary, part yearbook, part biopic, encapsulating his distinct vision: each record is a biographical film about his life, a self-directed "Autobiopic." Having already explored storytelling as the filmmaker behind movies like EAT (writer/director) and Rent-A-Pal (producer), Weber embraces Polite Riot as the ultimate cinematic expression of his own existence, complete with sequels and serialized narratives. In Riot’s own words, “Have you ever seen a biopic that deserved a sequel? Can’t imagine that you have cuz I got no equals.”

From the very first track of Autobiopic, Riot positions listeners in a theatrical space—"Grab yourself some popcorn, it’s time for the show." This framing device is purposeful: Riot invites his audience into a deeply personal theater, addressing everything from mental health battles to teenage rebellion and existential dread. Songs like "All Sales Final" chronicle mischievous youth and hustles gone awry, while "Shark Fins" reveals the devastating crash following hypomanic creative peaks, capturing the brutal yet seductive duality of bipolar experiences. This authenticity permeates his storytelling, transforming personal anecdotes into universally relatable revelations.

Riot’s narratives frequently tackle mental health with raw honesty. "Talking About Practice," a clear highlight, cleverly juxtaposes Riot’s frustrations with the mental-health therapy industrial complex against basketball legend Allen Iverson’s infamous "we talkin’ about practice" rant. This track underscores Riot’s ability to simultaneously channel humor and poignancy, shedding light on the exhausting reality of seeking effective mental-health treatment.

Across three albums, Riot crafts the so-called Polite Riot Cinematic Universe (PRCU), a narrative universe rich in interwoven themes, characters, and callbacks. Recurring motifs abound—from referring to Lemmy Kilmister of Motörhead as God ("The Hand of God" and numerous others), to continuous references to the Terminator saga, explicitly portrayed as Riot’s symbolic death and resurrection between albums. Even subtle, recurring details enhance this universe-building, such as Riot’s ironic self-deprecation, frequently joking that his tracks will never garner more than "six clicks." This meticulously constructed continuity elevates the listening experience, turning casual fans into invested observers tracking recurring themes and deeper layers of meaning.

Riot’s sophomore release, Judgment Day, deepens the cinematic saga. The album explicitly plays upon sequel tropes and movie metaphors, portraying Riot as a character resurrected from the metaphorical lava of Autobiopic’s final song “I’ll Be Back,” battle-scarred and wiser. In "P.R.C.U.," he cleverly builds upon the biopic motif, articulating his narrative ambitions clearly: life’s stories, no matter how mundane or absurd, merit epic cinematic treatment. Songs like "ID4" vividly capture reckless yet cherished Fourth of July celebrations with his father—memories colored by nostalgia, danger, and familial bonds. Elsewhere, "Durban Poison" offers a starkly personal reflection on Weber’s first recognized hypomanic episode, triggered during a marijuana-fueled creative marathon.

Perhaps no track encapsulates Polite Riot’s narrative power as vividly as "April 21, 1999," a harrowing retelling of Weber’s personal experiences surrounding the Columbine shootings. The song's cinematic vividness, capturing minute details and emotional chaos, stands as a profound testament to Riot’s storytelling capabilities—illuminating personal trauma and broader cultural reflection through musical narrative.

Amidst the gravity, Riot consistently deploys humor, irreverence, and nostalgia, grounding his intense emotional reflections in relatable cultural moments. These tracks crystallize Riot’s signature blend of honest introspection, dark humor, and cinematic storytelling.

The trilogy concludes with JLW, a more self-aware, reflective installment grappling explicitly with creative anxieties, existential dread, and running out of meaningful material ("A Tension"). On "The S.T.O.A.," Riot narrates youthful antics from his upbringing in Littleton, Colorado, recounting a harmless suburban prank turned unexpectedly serious—an allegory for the stark realities of adulthood, consequences, and identity. "My Girl," meanwhile, serves as a heartfelt love letter to his wife and partner of over eighteen years, eloquently portraying the sustaining force of their relationship, creative partnership, and shared life journey.

Tracks like "Bangerz & Sass" affectionately detail his personal renaissance through discovering new music, paying homage to pop divas of the 2010s who shaped his emotional landscape. Likewise, "OMG" explores complex personal views on religion and spirituality, painting a picture of rebellion against oppressive institutions, yet doing so with witty candor rather than bitter cynicism.

Polite Riot's discography uniquely marries deep emotional vulnerability with razor-sharp cultural commentary. Riot’s songs resist simplification, each serving as a multi-layered examination of life’s absurdities, pains, joys, and ironies. The resulting musical autobiography resonates powerfully with listeners confronting similar life challenges, reinforcing the therapeutic potential of self-expression.

In this deeply personal cinematic trilogy, Polite Riot transcends mere music-making. Riot transforms the raw material of his life—joys, sorrows, struggles, victories—into meaningful, vivid, and relatable art. By combining brutal honesty, sharp wit, cultural critique, and meticulous universe-building, he offers listeners more than songs; he offers shared humanity, expressed in vibrant biographical form. Polite Riot isn’t merely entertainment—it’s life, intimately and unapologetically explored, a testament to the enduring power of telling one’s story.