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22, A Million

Imagine being in a romantically lit, warm, fake ass italian bistro.  You have brasciole which is supposed to be tender thin sliced meat wrapped around peppers and a hard boiled egg. In description its gross but in execution it can be the best thing put to your tongue. Your ex’s mom used to make it when you’d come over. You still talk to people about it.

You find this version disappointing. Eat. Pay. Leave. 

Rain falls as if it is angry at the concrete, banging feverishly and flooding the streets within in minutes.

A cabbie asks if you need a ride but a surprising stubbornness arises and you say no thanks. You can walk these 20 minutes in the rain.

So you do, in your little grey warm hoodie you feel the rushing steel of cars speed past you as you walk from awning to awning from neon lighted windows to the pitiful stares of strangers watching you run to the next block.

After awhile, the torrid rain brings you to an easy calm. Light and free to think of whatever; your job that has kept you out here too long, what it is like at home, your ex’s mom’s brasciole. 

You feel like you’re barely even there. There’s no one in the streets and it’s comforting. The comfort of your soul free of worry from dudes asking you for dollars, squeezing by people and free from anything clouding you. It’s like floating in the pool like you’ve been wanting to since the start of the month.

The rain begins to calm. The droplets splatter like chimes and it’s still bright out even though the clouds in foreground are dismally gray and your shoes are squishing with every step. Flickering headlights, stuttering horns in the distance and you are stuck in the middle and at the same time you’re sliding through.

Your hotel is in sight. The sunshine begins to seep out even though its 830 and for some reason you walk a little slower because this floating will not return for some time. Fuck it, you’ll step in another puddle on purpose and maybe you’ll take off your hood too, you’ll fucking hug your friends when you get home, you’ll fuckin eat some good pasta, you’ll fucking read a book, you’ll fucking watch that oscar movie, you’ll fucking text that girl, you’ll fuckin eat bagels, you’ll fuckin cook, you’ll fuckin drink more coffee, you’ll fuckin never go to the bean and for absolute fuckin sure you’re gonna eat the best fuckin pasta you can,

That’s how it feels to listen to this album.

A-

-JarvTarv

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Quick Takes

It’s been awhile. My B. But to catch you all up on stuff I’ve been listening to I will give you an album and a sentence or two to sum up my review

Bruno Mars - 21 K Magic- Truly magic, the best pure pop album I have ever heard. Won’t make you think too hard but good goddamn will it make you dance and sing. A-

Flume-Skin- I was honestly very bored. It’s like a 2 hour album-- actually a quick google search says no it’s one, but it DEFINITELY feels like 2. D+

Migos- Culture-  It’s true, all three of the Migos share a hive mind where Quavo clearly has most of the charisma. This album is the equivalent of whip-its : you do it once but it does not stay with you at all. (I have never actually done whippits). C+

Post Malone- Stoney- I will unabashedly vouch for Post. He is an absolute goof but he makes catchy ass stupid songs. B-

Anderson .Paak- Malibu- Crowd pleasure and charming showman .Paak comes out the gate as a soaring eagle with machine guns, bellowing “send nudes”, with a chesty woman riding on his back wearing only an american flag and she is playing an Al Green album. It’s a lot take in and maybe a little too all over the place but I guarantee you there’s a lot to love. B+

Big Sean- I Decided.- Sean’s best album to date. You know it’s real when Kendrick has to snipe him out of the sky before he gets too ahead of himself. B

Drake- More Life- It was the comeback I was waiting for. Everything I wanted in a newly Caribbean Drake... that I instantly stopped caring about once DAMN. dropped. B

Future- Future- Mask Off will be a classic, Draco will be the best song based on the goofiest beat ever and the rest will be recycled into the next Future album. 5 albums later and I really couldn’t give less of a shit of what is happening. Those two songs A- The album D. 

The Shins- Heartworms- The most fun dad rock could possibly be. I’ve heard the Of Montreal comparisons but honestly I have heard two songs from them and even if it is a copy of style there is not a front man or lyricist quite like James Mercer. B+

Couldn’t leave you with a bad Future taste in your mouth! I might do full reviews of some of these later but BranNob or J Tomorrow what are your thoughts on any of these albums?

- JarvTarv

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Spoon - Hot Thoughts [Roundtable Review]

The following is a text conversation between two of our writers, Joe and Brandon. During the conversation, they were both listening to Spoon’s “Hot Thoughts” for the very first time.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

J: Yoooooooo

B: Let’s gooooooo

J: It’s rolling.

Hot Thoughts

J: You’re gonna hate me, but it sounds like AWOLNATION so far...

B: Honestly, the intro kinda did... :/ But it got better almost instantly.

J: “Hot Thoughts in my mind all of the time,” started the turning point for me.

B: I don’t know if it’s my Spotify feed, my shitty phone, or what, but my sound quality is shite haha The mix sounds like trash. Song is sick doh. If a little forgettable.

J: A bit generic sounding, I suppose. But I do really like it... Welcome to the bridge.

B: This bridge is incredible... Then, back to the same ol’. BUT OH MY GOD. I didn’t realize how much they stripped away until it came back and punched me in the frickin eyeball.

J: The little Jaws-interval shit is sick...

WhisperI’lllistentohearit

B: We’re here now, yes?

J: Yes. Seamlessly...

B: Not even one seam...

J: what does this sound like… So familiarly forgettable.

B: It sounds like a sexy ghost story, if that makes any sense at all...

J: Dudes voice is fire doe…

B: ...And the pick up. This is some National ish rn. But more interesting.

(NOTE: An edit was made to avoid insulting the National)

J: this ones boring to me…

B: It’s no “Hot Thoughts” for sure. I love that tambourine doh. Luckily it’s only one second long.

Do I Have to Talk You Into It

B: Onto the next one.

J: Somehow still AWOL… Oh, that's fun.

B: It started like AWOL, but with an actual soul. And now it’s just so so rad. I feel like I’m inside of a piano.

J: Really? Cause I feel like I did a line of coke in a shitty motel and then tried running down the stairs.

B: I mean, the piano was made of EL-ESS-DEE, but still...

J: “Knock knock”

B: I’ll be honest. I only understand like 2 out of every 5 words, on average.

J: oh I like this part…

B: It’s so sick. And I understood most of the words. Except the first one. “Moogin?”

J: I think he does have to talk me into it cause if not I'd never understand. But he doesn't have to talk me into listening to the NEXT ONE. HEH HEH

B: Do we agree that this song is the best so far? (P.S. That bass tone, oh lord)

J: It's better than the first if that's what you mean. Honestly I already forget there was a second track...

First Caress

J: Very fire so far to me.

B: I agree. Great opening 10 seconds.

J: Their titles are really awful though, no?

B: I mean I like “Hot Thoughts” and “Do I Have To Talk You Into It.”

J: inside a piano again…

B: COCONUT WATER. I LOVE THAT LINE. WHAT I UNDERSTOOD WAS FIRE.

J: Best moment in four songs.

B: For real doh, is Spotify sound quality shitty, or is iPhone sound shitty?

J: I'm in headphones.

B: I as well, but it sounds like pure distortion haha

Pink Up

J: This is gonna be my song, I hope. I love this so far.

B: Latin drums and a vibraphone. Hek yeh.

J: I honestly hope there's words but it seems like it will only muddle this fire fire minimalism.

B: Was that just switching time signatures btw? Did you feel that? Like 4 and 5 alternating?

J: Those Mmmms are real nice. And I couldn't catch that.

B: It’s happening again.

J: This is so fire. Tropical pop/rock done real different.

B: I mean, are there tropics in space? ‘Cause this is straight up space-trop.

J: I fear their songs are too long.

B: I haven’t felt that so far. Like, this one’s been pretty interesting the whole time. The one forgettable song was like 14 seconds flat.

J: You don't think this part is--oh boy.

B: Actually, as soon as the backmasking came in, I knew exactly what you meant haha

J: Thank god… they really like putting us inside pianos, huh?

B: I love that haunting ghost piano doh.

J: The one that’s being played upstairs in that weird attic?

Can I Sit Next to You

J: Just wait.

B: Oh this is the one. I can feel it.

J: This sounds like Everything Everything. So I already love it.

B: Forget what I said in that other song. THIS ONE sounds like a sexy ghost story.

J: This song’s probably amazing live…

B: Wait until it reaches the nine minute mark and we’re wishing for it to end haha. Jk pure pure flame

J: Glitch vocals and these little synth shits. I like.

B: Are these strings real, synth, or both? I’m thinking both, but I really can’t tell.

J: They sound real synthy to me.

B: If you listen underneath it doh, there’s like a quieter, squeaky one.

J: This is a real game boy though right?

B: Absolute Wario Ware.

I Ain’t the One

J: The ballad?

B: The Radiohead one.

J: Oh yeah, but then the *** harmony.

(NOTE: This has been edited to avoid insulting a boy)

B: I’ll be honest, this ain’t the one… Oh wait. Drums.

J: Please breakdown real real far. Synth squaring up. Oh. Nope.

B: “Let me swim in the synth sauce, pretty please, Mr. Spoon.”

J: This sounds like *** doesn't it… Even the over reverberation.

B: Yeah, but he would never use anything that sounds remotely electronic. Because “authenticity.”

J: I really think he ruined that harmony for me. And that “mm”.

B: You’ve betrayed us, Spoon. This song is pretty weak.

Tear It Down

J: Fake transition?

B: Please be better. Oh shit, it already is.

J: This is heat.

B: The piano again. Why don’t people use pianos anymore in non-ballads? This is sick.

J: I think this chorus is gonna be flames. I don't know why it feels like it's gonna be amazing…

B: The anticipation is brutal. I feel like he’s done six verses.

J: if we've heard the chorus though, I'm gonna be sad.

B: HE LITERALLY SAID “tension, tension, waiting, waiting.” That is how I feel.

J: I just hope it goes somewhere. It's all verse. So versesy.

B: I dig the na-na-na’s. And honestly, it’s a pretty good verse…

J: I like this mood change here, but I can't help but feel blue ballsed. One last chance.

B: I won’t lie. I love this. Especially what the drums are doing. Crazy.

Shotgun

B: OHHHHH YES

J: I was waiting for vocals before I spoke. Somehow, yet again, I'm inside a piano. But that was flames.

B: This song is absolute gold right now.

J: That counter melody… the bright guitar. My theory about what I want to say being a good chorus, comes through again. Oh god this part yes.

B: This song is like an atmospheric club beat, smothered in guitar.

J: we could definitely pop Molly to this.

B: Who the heck is Molly? Heh heh.

J: Strongest lyrics too, I think? I mean, odd to say because it's pretty much eight words but the narrative works in this one. Plus I understood all words.

Us

J: holy shit lion King.

B: And now we are transported from inside a piano to inside a legit conch.

J: I honestly love this if this goes into some insane club beat. Fastest 40 minutes every bee tee dubs…

B: Right?? I was just thinking that this album felt like 15 minutes.

J: is this the melody from another song on this?

B: I’ve only heard it once, so I have no recollection of anything before Shotgun.

J: it is… This is fucking nuts. This is a reprise.

B: This is conchworld.

J: HAEHHHHHHHH

B: There’s the vibraphone again… but it’s quickly consumed by shell.

J: We just need ghost piano now. I hear ghost rumbling.

B: I can feel it. The game boy’s even in the house.

B: Quick, rate the album out of 10.

J: 7.5: Very fire, but still unsure how memorable it it possibly can be.

B: I’mma go 7.2, but I feel like it might be something that grows after a few listens so who knows?

J: honestly, such a different spoon it may as well have been LADLE.

B: That joke’s trash dude.

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

Wordplay in the Wild: On the Science of Rap

“Oldie,” Odd Future’s ten-and-a-half-minute posse epic, has more high points than some entire albums. A modern classic, the track has received effusive praise from fans and critics alike. Much of this praise has centered around Earl Sweatshirt’s blockbuster of a verse—and rightly so. His imagery is so evocative that the words become virtually palpable, and his dense schemes are both calm and incendiary at the same time. But, tucked away within the nine verses of “Oldie” is something even more impressive—a genuine linguistic miracle.

Now, I’m not oblivious to my biases. I’ve heaped enough hosannas on Frank Ocean that I should register as a lobbyist. But, even taking account of my leanings, I am convinced that the following statement is objective fact: Frank Ocean’s “Oldie” verse contains one of the greatest lines ever written.

About five bars into his verse, stashed between some weed talk and a pun about grapes, Ocean drops this deceptively simple phrase:

“I’m hi and I’m bye—wait, I mean I’m straight.”

Monumental, right? No, you say? Well, let’s break it down.

“I’m hi and I’m bye,” presumably, means that he doesn’t like to stay places for very long—not exactly a revolutionary sentiment. But the next phrase creates a shift that causes us to reconsider that meaning. By prefacing “I’m straight” with “wait, I mean,” Ocean implies that straightness is contrary to both “hi”-ness and “bye”-ness. In light of this, “I’m hi and I’m bye” becomes “I’m high and I’m bi,” with “straight” referring to both sobriety and heterosexuality.

If that doesn’t sound impressive, consider what Ocean just pulled off. He found two rhyming opposites whose homophones share an opposite, then used these three words—really five words, with six meanings—to create a self-contained chain of linked double entendres. The takeaway is that Ocean found—I repeat—two rhyming opposites whose homophones share an opposite. In case the magnitude of that description isn’t coming across in text, I’ve created a chart to illustrate the complexity and interdependence of this relationship.

Looking at this, the brevity and simplicity of Ocean’s ten-word construction becomes awe-inspiring. What’s more impressive, however, is how rare these word combinations must be. Try to find another set that can fit into that flow chart, and I can almost guarantee that you’ll come up short. It’s hard to imagine that more than a handful of words in the English language fit those criteria—if any. That Ocean was able to track down the “hi/bye/straight” triad is nothing short of miraculous.

But Frank isn’t the first rapper to search for these unique lexical relationships, nor the last. Rappers have been exploiting the inherent characteristics of words and their combinations since King Tim III first rhymed “beat” with “feet” in 1979. By 1988, rappers like Rakim were already crafting compact theses on time, art, and transmission out of these word sets (e.g., “journal / journalist / eternal / eternalist”, later cribbed by Reflection Eternal). And the trend continues well into the 2010s. In 2013, for instance, Chance the Rapper found the “lean [on a] square” makes a “rhombus.” Three years later, Kanye pulled a micro-tragedy from the constant assonance pattern of “lost control / off the road / jaw was broke.” These combinations form elegant phrases, dense with layered meanings.

Reflexively, wordplay can even comment on its own context. In Frank Ocean’s “Oldie” line, for example, “high” and “bi” are equated through their common opposite, highlighting the latent social connotation of “straightness”—namely, “straight-laced” traditionalism—that underlies both the sober and heterosexual usages of “straight.” A dialectic is created, in which “high-ness” and “bi-ness” are presented as states of being that abide in defiance of religiously conservative “straightness.” This postmodern usage forces words to engage with their own meanings, bringing to light the concealed historical narratives beneath everyday speech.

Despite the key input that rappers provide, it’s important to remember that they aren’t creating these word combinations, but finding and exploiting quirks that are inherent in our language. The purely physical relationships between words—e.g., rhymes, rhythm, assonance, etc.—are fixed. In other words, “intern” and “in turn” were homophones long before Kanye wrote his first “Gone” verse. Semantic relationships, however, are much more dynamic. As meanings shift, new connections arise. For example, a “mayonnaise colored Benz” is only a “miracle whip” in a context where “whip” means car—and this is only clever in a context where Miracle Whip also makes mayonnaise. These semantic relationships still exist independent of their usage, but not independent of their contexts.

With this ‘actuality of wordplay’ in mind, lyricism becomes a quest for discovery, an inquiry into the possibilities of language. Rappers, in this frame, act as both scientists and engineers, simultaneously finding and applying undiscovered properties of words. Yet, even with these thousands of explorers let loose on the English language, there are things that remain undetected. So we keep searching, expanding our language ever outward, a universe of meaning in every syllable.

-BranNob

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Ivy Chords

I spent a couple of hours transcribing and now have the most accurate tab of “Ivy” on the web.

So now, I present—a Barry Badger Blog exclusive—Frank Ocean’s “Ivy.”

-BranNob

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On this day in music history: January 24, 1980 - A large billboard to promote Pink Floyd’s album “The Wall” and their four city tour of the US, is erected above the parking lot of the Tower Records store on Sunset Blvd. in West Hollywood, CA. The billboard has a giant brick wall pasted up in front of it, resembling the cover artwork for “The Wall”. Bricks are removed each day from the billboard, slowly revealing a massive blow up of artist Gerald Scarfe’s artwork from the inner album cover gatefold underneath. The artwork is fully unveiled by the end of the bands’ Los Angeles tour dates in February.

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

On the eve of our downfall.

Happy inauguration day, everyone.

-Bradimir Lootin’

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Foldin Clothes and Stay(in) Gold: The Many Faces of Rap Craft Part I

J Cole.

Why do we listen to rap? We love bangers and hard beats which is why you would listen to Migos. Something deeper or weirder? Maybe Childish Gambino or Flying Lotus. Or maybe you just want to hear about killing people drugs and fighting so there’s 21 Savage or Lil Uzi Vert (if you’re feeling particularly light).

I’d argue they all come from the same vein of creation. Rap was created to release demons, tell stories, even punchlines all while rhyming or using beautiful figurative language.

That sounds great but do you know who the 2016 Freshman Class of XXL are? Like 8 of 10 of them are trap artists. Like those last two artists mentioned the other guys are Desiigner and Lil Yachty. Which is fine ya know? I like “Panda” and some Yachty songs but what sent me over the edge is a popular ranking site throughout the fucking list the authors wrote “Although they lack lyrical dexterity and diversity they make up for it in delivery.” WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. THAT’S THE FUCKIN’ POINT. I get XXL isn’t representative of rap music as a whole but my god man. I wouldn’t say I’m an old head because I love a lot of new stuff coming out right now but, I can distinguish what can be enjoyable, interesting and rewarding to a listener.

I heard 21 Savage’s album through and through because I really like “No Heart”. But it’s a goddamn sleeper hold. Like every song is I’m killing people and making drugs yeayeayea. “No Heart” has all of that but in that song he’s insane with his lyrics, the beats boom, he’s got energy and diversity of his words and flows that is seldom heard throughout the rest of it. 

Imagine taking all that manic energy into flows, lyrics, and verbosity. Then hook an IV straight to the vein with a syringe filled with a deep story. A message. THAT is “ 4 Yours Eyes Only”.

This is not the album that he promised at all. By releasing “Everbody Dies” and “False Prophets” I was expecting a feral, destroy every rapper album that everyone keeps trying. I hope eventually that album comes out. But, whether he used that to sell more copies of “4” or to surprise everyone, J Cole aimed for depth, feeling and to tell a story and he succeeded.

There are hardly any bangers (A major complaint from my friends on their first listen of the album) with the exception of “Neighbors” which will enrage you and want you to throw your fists in the air. Most of these songs are poetry with a simple beat attached. 

The opener “For Whom The Bell Tolls” is like knowing you’re about to crack open a great book. The jangling beat and the first line “I see the rain pourin’ down…” immediately feels like you’re in a storm in the amazon or at least a storm is coming. As the Cole quickly spits about not knowing whether if he wants to die and feeling like there is no where to hide, it feels claustrophobic. It’s a fantastic first song and already has depth and complexity.

“Immortal” is more of the usual J Cole, a swirling beat but not too hard and Cole talking about that world and greed around him. Not bad but I wanted more of the “Bell Tolls”. “Deja Vu”’s first 30 seconds are absolutely groan worthy, There was clearly a rush to get to the verses kinda like a kid shoveling down a few broccoli to eat his spaghetti. The verses are way more versatile, more clever and more concerned with not being able to talk to that girl which a strength that J Cole has. Again past that terrible “fingers in the sky if you want it” shit it’s not bad. 

“Ville Mentality” comes just when I thought “Bell” was a fluke. There’s a certain sense of floating around, a navel gazing atmosphere. How long can I go on being what society and everything around me is telling me to be? Then a little girl talks about how she missed her dad’s funeral. Weird. But, it seems to fit perfectly within the song. 

“She’s Mine” a beautiful, piano driven slam poetry session. I can see a spotlight on Cole, in a tux with his messy fro,  singing. rapping. talking all with a tear down his face looking out to a pitch black auditorium. Catch me I’ve fallen in love he says. I think I have too. With the song. With the earnest voice he carries as if he’s trying to shield a smile. With the thought of the girl, With the song again.

“Change” is another left turn. I imagine he is looking out right after “She’s Mine” and realizes there is an audience and he needs to say what’s on his chest. The song is about changing the views, mentality and personality of those involved in gang violence and tragedy of death in the black community. It’s preachy but at the same time Cole is clearly sticking true to a feeling that cannot be shaken off and needs to be expressed. It’s like politely listening to a friend having a panic attack. They need to get it out no matter how it sounds.

“Neighbors” has the line  “ My sixteen should’ve came with a coffin”. Fuck. 

“Foldin’ Clothes” has to be the cheesiest song Cole has ever written and I love it. The electric bass and slinky guitar makes it a great framework that even cheesy and incredibly simply borderline dumb chorus (wanting to do the right thing which feels better than the wrong thing) almost ok.  The shout outs to almond milk (!) will make you laugh, smile and think about your person. But then Cole surprises with the people being fake around him “N****s is the best actors”.

“She’s Mine II” returns to the sublime “She’s Mine” but what’s that? A baby crying? This is a different love. A protection rather than adoration. Teaching lessons while changing diapers. It’s odd but if it wasn’t Cole it wouldn’t work. I’ll dry your eyes, I never felt so alive, there is a God he coos. And I believe him.

At this point I was scattered. What the actual fuck is Cole on here. There’s children all over this album, death all over the album and the need for change. 

“4 Your Eyez Only” begins and I feel ready for an explanation. It’s a full confession and I hang on to every word. Switching perspectives, greedy thoughts, play my this tape for my daughter and let her know my life is on it. Fuck. Again, Cole is in control. I’m listening for each breath. Every line hurts. A whole 5 minutes of bawl your eyes out pain within a strong and steady performance. All the cooing, love notes are almost gone. It is steady focus, Cole’s slain friend using Cole as a vessel to talk to his daughter. It slides the whole album into place like solving a 1000 piece puzzle. 

An everyday tragedy locked forever in 40 minutes. 

It’s flooring, sobering and it left me a little speechless.

This is craft. To create atmosphere, emotions and incur thinking as soon as the album is done. This album and J Cole deserves respect, long bouts of thinking and multiple listens to full appreciate it and then do it again. It’s arduous and almost too painful but that attributes to the strength of music and when done with care and love even with it’s flaws can be a work of beauty. 

B+

- JarvTarv

And on the flipside of relatable, grounded craft is…

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

Foldin Clothes and Stay(in) Gold: The Many Faces of Rap Craft Part II

Run the Jewels.

Squeezed in before the end of the year, RTJ has made another classic. A time capsule of pain, politics and passion of being a lout.

It is not the album I wanted them to make. But, like the Dark Knight it is the album we deserve.

After two jaw crushing, noodle twisting albums of punishing suckas,explaining how fucked up the system is and then leaving everybody fucked, punched and verbally devastated, where could the nastiest dream team go? I was hoping they would continue going down the road they were going; burning buildings, grinning at their jokes with a glock to your dog. 

After listening to it a bunch of times I realized RTJ3 is like driving all over NYC.

It’s 5 am pitch black, your headlights and the giant mug of coffee you have in the cupholder are your only companions. You’re driving to the parkway before you hit real New York traffic and you need something to put you in the proper mindset to get there. Anger, paranoia and frenzy (”Talk to Me” - Best line is El-P’s “My dick’s got a Michelin star, I'm on par with the best ever took the gig”), is the mental cocktail already mixed for you. 

Slowly, the lanes are narrowing, drivers are cutting you off more and the driving world you knew before changes into a new animal (”Legend Has It”). Your heart starts beating, you see reflective signs everywhere, but, one more confusing than the next. The blare of horns, screeching tires and your beating heart surrounds you (”Call Ticketron”). Pulsating, whizzing and banging. 

Then, it starts to slow down. You've hit Jamaica and it's a grimy but it breathes a charming breath all its own ("Bumaye”). But you're close to your destination and you've been in this jungle long enough to feel like you can handle it. A sudden confidence and pleasure in understanding the area and mental space you need for it ("Stay Gold”). It just feels so good. As insane as it might have been it is a huge accomplishment like you “can’t stop high fiving” for having conquered this beast of a place. 

“Don’t Get Captured” - The ride stops. It is a completely different album. More menacing, covered in haunting synths and more focused on violence and not the fantasy, cartoonish violence that RTJ normally does. It is the violence of today: brutality, injustice and death. 

“Thieves” plays. Are these the same guys? Was I dropped onto a graveyard with ghosts and zombies surrounding me? Darkness envelops you and someone shouts “Fuck Don Lemon!” and you agree. “2100�� plays and you are still stuck in the doom like slowly sinking in lava like Gollum. This is the world we know now. 

It’s complex and it’s hard to listen to (you can take that statement however you’d like). Still is even after running the album over and over again.

“Hey Mama” touches on the stress of being the RTJ of today. Especially with Killer Mike’s story about his mom. Could you imagine yelling and cursing at your mom they way he sounds?? I can’t. I can’t even imagine what holidays are like for the Killer Mike family. "Everbody Stay Calm" is a paradox of song that has a pretty chill simple beat but as the crew spits you just can’t shake the feeling that someone is behind you. They boys never raise their voice either they just create ambiance through their words (CRAFT BITCHES).

“Thursday in the Danger Room” is the heart rip that I didn’t see coming. Death has always been a topic but not like this. How do legends grieve? It’s a searing and incredibly honest song. Anyone can mourn or be weak - even titans. The finisher "A Report to the Shareholders" blares and midway through the song changes again. Like the devils on your shoulder the message is clear- Kill your Masters. Figurative (or not) it's a strong clear message. Don't let up don't become a victim. Be golden.

The wild part is that I should’ve seen it coming. The opener “Down” is viking funeral. El-P and Killer Mike talk about their past lives and what could’ve been. They say their goodbyes to their worst days and drug dealing and let it go.

Run the Jewels is rap, it’s hip hop, it’s rage and it’s passion to the nth power. This is what distinguishes them from any other group. This album we find the rage focused and what’s more,  it’s still fucking awesome. 

A- 

These albums are great examples of what I would describe as "craft". When you see old heads or those guys who say rap is bad or better in the 90s or 80s or whatever period, you give them these albums and say what do you want? It's all here you just have to be open to it. 

-JarvTarv

Side Note- This is one of my favorites of the year so I will include all my favorite lines here

Down-  We don't talk a lot about it, we just pop it off a lot/ I'm high, man, I'm a cosmonaut/ Scream, "Fuck 'em," 'til they lop our bloody noggins off

Talk to Me - What, me worry? Nah, buddy, I've lost before, so what? You don't get it, I'm dirt, motherfucker, I can't be crushed (2nd fave after the Michelin dick line)

Legend Has It - Every new record's my dick in a box

Call Ticketron - Kids cook s'mores off the crotch of our targets/ Kumbaya bitch

Hey Kids (Bumaye) -  Word architect, when I arch the tech, I'll part ya' neck

Stay Gold - (this whole song is filled with good shit like the cant stop high fiving joke and doing the wop on you hoes line buttt)  We're the crooks, we'll run the jux and kidnap mom from jazzercise/ Get Stockholm syndrome when she get home, mom's like, "I like those fuckin' guys."./ Thanks for the ransom handsome, let Mom know the guys loved her pumpkin pie

Don't Get Captured-  Hello from a Little Shop of Horrors/ Ski mask like a Phantom of the Opera

Thieves! (Screamed the Ghost) -  Fears been law for so long that rage feels like therapy

2100 - You defeat the devil when you hold onto hope

Panther Like a Panther (Miracle Mix) - (much like Love Again RTJ always throws out a fun song that like has nothing to do with the rest of the album and isn’t as well made as the others and this is definitely the one. It also throws you out of the atmosphere but recovers quickly)- That whole beginning section- God forgive me

Everybody Stay Calm - Presidential suite, got a fuck boy jealous/ I'm the Nelson Mandela of Atlanta dope sellers

Oh Mama-  You running out of ways to go fuck yourself, I will innovate

Thursday in the Danger Room -  Like how do you look in the eyes of a friend and not cry when you know that they're dying?/ How do you feel 'bout yourself when you know that sometimes you had wished they were gone?/Not because you didn't love 'em but just because you felt too weak to be strong

A Report to the Shareholders / Kill Your Masters -  You talk clean and bomb hospitals/ So I speak with the foulest mouth possible

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

2016 Album of the Year Poll Results!

With a predictably low turnout—only 6 ballots were submitted—our 2016 album of the year poll is hardly representative of any sort of collective taste. Much more illuminating are the individual ballots, which I’ve included at the end of this write-up. Despite this, certain trends are evident even within our meager sample. Before I dive into these trends, however, here are Barry & Friends’ Top 10 Albums of 2016 (by both points and popularity):

Most Points:

Kanye West - The Life of Pablo (3 votes, 12 pts.)

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book (4 votes, 11pts.)

A Tribe Called Quest - We Got It From Here... (2 votes, 10pts.)

Frank Ocean - Blond(e) (2 votes, 10pts.)

Bon Iver - 22, a Million (3 votes, 9pts.)

Travis Scott - Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight (2 votes, 9pts.)

Beyoncé - Lemonade (2 votes, 8pts.)

Touché Amoré - Stage Four (1 votes, 8pts.)

Childish Gambino - Awaken, My Love! (2 votes, 7pts.)

Kendrick Lamar - untitled unmastered. (2 votes, 7pts.)

Most Popular:

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book (4 votes, 11pts.)

Kanye West - The Life of Pablo (3 votes, 12 pts.)

Bon Iver - 22, a Million (3 votes, 9pts.)

A Tribe Called Quest - We Got It From Here... (2 votes, 10pts.)

Frank Ocean - Blond(e) (2 votes, 10pts.)

Travis Scott - Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight (2 votes, 9pts.)

Beyoncé - Lemonade (2 votes, 8pts.)

Childish Gambino - Awaken, My Love! (2 votes, 7pts.)

Kendrick Lamar - untitled unmastered. (2 votes, 7pts.)

All other albums received only one mention

Although Chance and Kanye are the clear winners—taking the top two spots in both lists—these results fail to show the overall lack of consensus in the ballots. No two ballots shared a number-one album. Meanwhile, our two winners didn’t take the number-one spot in any of the individual ballots. Those spots were instead held by the likes of A Tribe Called Quest, Frank Ocean, Travis Scott, Beyoncé, Touché Amoré, and Rihanna—artists who were liked intensely by a single voter, but neglected by most others. So, instead of unanimous favorites, the top two spots were taken by albums that were liked by most voters, but only mildly. It’s telling that Chance’s average per-ballot score was only 2.75, lower than any other album in the top 10. Upon closer inspection, a few other trends emerge as well.

Does Barry Badger Blog Have a Gender Problem?

In the two major list aggregates—found at Metacritic and AlbumOfTheYear.org—Beyoncé conclusively takes the number two spot with Lemonade, her sweeping ode to black femininity. However, out of six ballots, only two—the two female voters’, as a matter of fact—mention Lemonade in their top 5. Meanwhile, Solange’s A Seat at the Table, which has also proven to be a critical favorite and top 10 contender, doesn’t appear on a single ballot. In fact, female artists hold only one of the twenty spots on the four male-submitted ballots: my own number two spot, which is held by Angel Olsen’s My Woman. Since these males make up the writing staff of Barry Badger Blog, this raises a few questions concerning gender representation and author objectivity. In other words, if any female author would like to write for our humble blog, please email us at barrybadgerfresh@gmail.com. Please.

Thankfully, We Are Not Racist

In the Metacritic and AOTY aggregates, black artists held six of the top 10 spots. In contrast, black artists hold eight of the ten spots on Barry Badger Blog’s list. Whether this is a statistically significant difference is yet to be determined. On average, black artists created 3.67 of the five albums on each ballot. Even if it’s not significant, per se, it’s certainly substantial. Unfortunately, other ethnicities are drastically underrepresented. Although, unlike the gender issue, I believe that this could be remedied with a larger sample size and the use of top 10s instead of top 5s during polling.

We Really Haven’t Heard Much

Only 17 unique albums appeared on this year’s Barry Badger Blog ballots. These albums represent only a small fraction of the music released throughout the year. In fact, four albums in the Metacritic and AOTY top 10 lists—namely, A Moon Shaped Pool, Skeleton Tree, A Seat at the Table, and Blackstar—are entirely absent from our data. Unfortunately, unless voters spend a substantial amount of time seeking out and listening to new music, I doubt that this lack of variety could be corrected without a much larger sample size.

Barry Badger Blog Has No Love for Bowie

On both review aggregators, the number one spot is decisively held by one album: David Bowie’s swansong, Blackstar. It’s a complex and beautiful work that, against all odds, went completely unmentioned in our ballots. I have a theory about this. It seems that, in the wake of Bowie’s death, many critics—not us—devoted greater time to the album than they normally would have. Because of this added investment, they found far more within the album, which helped elevate it from it’s positive-but-unexceptional initial reviews to the much-coveted number one spot. Pitchfork gave the album an 8.5, and AV Club gave it an A-minus. Meanwhile, they gave untitled unmastered an 8.6 and Freetown Sound an A, respectively. By the year’s end, their evaluations shifted: Pitchfork and AV Club ranked Blackstar fourth and first on their lists, while neither untitled unmastered nor Freetown Sound cracked their top 10s.

So, if there’s any lesson to be taken from our poll, it’s this: appreciation takes time and focus. Our writers don’t have the time to listen to every album that makes waves throughout the year. But, maybe we don’t need to. Maybe, instead of scrambling to hear every new release, we should start devoting greater time and energy to fewer albums, immersing ourselves fully in the perspectives and experiences of others. Empathetic listening: that’s a New Year’s Resolution I can get behind.

Happy 2017, everyone.

-BranNob

The following are the six individual ballots used in this poll:

Brandon:

Frank Ocean - Blond(e), 7pts.

Angel Olsen - My Woman, 5pts.

Kanye West - The Life of Pablo, 5pts.

Bon Iver - 22, a Million, 2pts.

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book, 1pt.

Nicole:

Rihanna - ANTI, 6pts.

Kanye West - The Life of Pablo, 5pts.

Drake - Views, 4pts.

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book, 3pts.

Beyoncé - Lemonade, 2pt.

Melissa:

Beyoncé - Lemonade, 6pts.

Childish Gambino - Awaken, My Love!, 5pts.

Noname - Telefone, 4pts.

Frank Ocean - Blond(e), 3pts.

Bon Iver - 22, a Million, 2pt.

Jov:

A Tribe Called Quest - We Got It From Here..., 6pts.

Mac Miller - The Divine Feminine, 4pts.

Kendrick Lamar - untitled unmastered, 4pts.

Travis Scott - Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight, 3pts.

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book, 3pts.

Alejo:

Travis Scott - Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight, 6pts.

Bon Iver - 22, a Million, 5pts.

A Tribe Called Quest - We Got It From Here..., 4pts.

Kendrick Lamar - untitled unmastered, 3pts.

Kanye West - The Life of Pablo, 2pts.

Brian:

Touché Amoré - Stage Four, 8pts.

Weezer - The White Album, 4pts.

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book, 4pts.

Childish Gambino - Awaken, My Love!, 2pts.

American Football - American Football, 2pt.

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

Here’s to The Frisco Kid. We’re all rooting for you.

Love you, man.

-BranNob

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

Unity and Duality: Formal Experimentation in Frank Ocean’s Blond(e) & Endless

Frank Ocean is a rare breed, an art-damaged deconstructionist, let loose on an unsuspecting genre. His song-as-sculpture pairs pared-down, minimalist forms with immaculately designed soundscapes that, in spite of their reverence and reference, feel wholly original. These pieces are then carefully assembled into a larger work, with its own unique momentum and form. Ocean, as an album artist, is operating on a level that few ever reach—and it shows. With Blond(e) and Endless, he has created works that are somehow both experimental and approachable, deeply cerebral yet deeply affecting.

Ocean’s innovations are primarily structural. Often, he reduces songs to their components, allowing the listener to infer how the pieces fit together. To fully absorb a melody, repetition is essential. But Ocean’s condensed forms can be so minimal that absorption is nearly impossible without repeated listening. Anyone who’s heard Blond(e) or Endless understands this feeling well, the sense that a song isn’t completely grasped. Take, as an example, “Godspeed.” It begins with a gentle organ intro, followed by a beautiful verse form that doesn’t quite repeat, but comes close. After the near repeat, the verse dissolves into a meandering coda and abruptly dismantles itself. In other words:

Intro - Verse - Verse’ - Coda

Forms like this are made for repeated listening. The song never outstays its welcome, regardless of the listener’s familiarity with the song. Meanwhile, those who haven’t heard it before will have to hit repeat just to figure out how the song goes.

This kind of structural experimentation reappears sporadically throughout Blond(e). On Endless, however, it dominates. Endless packs nearly twenty tracks into its 45-minute runtime. Besides the bookends of “(At Your Best) You Are Love” and “Device Control”—neither written by Ocean—every track feels fragmentary. Most runtimes are between thirty seconds and two minutes. But even the more “finished” tracks, like “Rushes” and “Slide on Me,” feel like works-in-progress due to their slippery melodies and minimal arrangements.

By chiseling away unnecessary repetition and production, Ocean has created a style of music that lives through interpretation. He strips sections of their functionality—without repetition, what objectively differentiates a verse from a chorus?—forcing listeners to make assumptions about the “purpose” of each melody and progression. In doing so, each listener creates a mental “song” from the musical raw materials that Ocean provides, making the listening process into an act of collaborative creation.

Frank’s structural savvy also extends to the form of the album(s) as a whole. In Endless, for instance, the fragments are connected, without track breaks. In total, it plays as a depiction of Ocean’s creative process: drawing inspiration from others (”You Are Love,” “Device Control”), looking through previously unused ideas (”Comme des Garçons,” “Higgs”), approaching concepts from multiple angles (”Rushes,” “Rushes To”), experimenting with new sounds (”Mine,” “Ambience 001/002″), and even trying alternate lyrics (”Slide on Me,” “Alabama”).

Presumably, the end result of this process is Blond(e), Endless’ immediate follow-up. Blond(e) has a similar stream of consciousness feel, but replaces Endless’ undifferentiated fog for a focused, film-like structure, with each song functioning as a “scene” in some abstract plot.

Adjacent “scenes” are sometimes connected thematically, but rarely linearly. The “interlude” tracks provide the best examples of this thematic continuity. “Be Yourself,” a lecture from a family member against drug use, is followed by “Solo,” a song which begins mid-acid trip. “Good Guy,” a fragment about a blind date ruined by differing intentions, follows “Self Control,” in which similar circumstances cause an ongoing relationship to break down. The final interlude (”Facebook Story”) describes technology-induced emotional distance and—with tongue carefully placed in cheek—is followed by an interpretation of “Close to You.” Linkages like these can be found throughout the album, creating a web of interconnected songs and themes that grows with repeated listening.

“Nights,” the album’s structural centerpiece, sits directly in the middle of the track list. Midway through the song, the up-tempo pop beat is swapped for a hazy hip-hop beat. The switch is situated exactly thirty minutes into the hour-long album, cleaving it into two halves: a relatively conventional first half and a sprawling, experimental second half. This split functions as a form of praxis, concretizing the concept of duality that is explored throughout the album. Meanwhile, the interludes unify these two halves musically via a shared Buddy Ross keyboard loop, creating a through line that reaches its conclusion at the very end of the album, beneath the interview section of “Futura Free.”

With Blond(e) and Endless, Frank Ocean has created two of 2016′s most idiosyncratic albums, and two of the year’s most immaculately crafted musical statements. They’re companion pieces that inform each other subtly and artfully. However, both stand on their own as powerful individual works, and both are absolutely essential. If you haven’t listened yet, be prepared to devote some time. But hurry: there’s only four years until the follow-up.

-BranNob

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

Sharks and Earthquakes (And Fire)

In 11 days I’ll be in San Francisco for the third time in the past four months but for the first time, I won’t have a return flight. I start work the first week of January. It all happened so fast. I barely get New Year’s in NYC. 

It’s been seven months since I’ve graduated. I could never have imagined how much of a toll living unemployed at home would take on me. I can’t get to sleep before 3:00A.M. I feel like I’ve been punched in the head every morning. There’s a pit in my stomach 24/7 and a persistent guilt about it; I can’t get a job but, surely, it could be worse. 

I tried everything. I was running, eating healthy, cooking my own meals, closing the computer by midnight. And still, nothing was getting better. Interviews would come and go, I’d send applications sent down the dark hole of job portals, never to ever be seen. 

It was becoming apparent that I needed to do something different. So I took a break and visited my girlfriend in California.  I can abbreviate this story by letting you know that on this trip, I decided I’d try to move to San Francisco. I remember lying on her bed and looking up at her ceiling and thinking, “I’m just gonna’ move here. I’m just gonna’ move here.”

Less than three weeks after leaving I was back to interview, and less than two weeks after that, I had an offer. And then another. 

For the first time in over half a year, things looked up. And they still do. Now though, as I look at my full wardrobe and empty suitcase, my endless decks of cards and pounds of camera equipment I need to pack away, I’m still guilty. I worked to change something in my life that I had a problem with, and I’d succeeded. But, of course, that decision was met with serious apprehension from the family. They’re happy for me, but they don’t want me to go. They think I’m too happy about leaving. We’re close, we’re really close. It’s not like I’m happy about leaving them: it’s just what I need to do. 

I haven’t really figured out how to solve it, but I don’t think I ever will. 

It’s pretty common for me to push the reset button every so often to kick my life back into gear. After graduating high school I decided to go away to college, after two years of college I decided to study abroad in Prague for six months and after half a year of crippling unemployment in New York, I decided to work and live in San Francisco. During every one of these resets, I find that I’m testing my limits and I also find that I’m able to associate every one of those time periods with a collection of music or at least a song. Prague was all about Odd Future’s Oldie. And also this shit:

Fire. 

It’s also where I first heard people using ‘fire’ to describe something impressive for the first time and now I can’t stop saying it. So there’s that.

Tonight Brandon played a song that he showed me years ago. Brandston’s Earthquakes and Sharks. For the first time, I know a song that I’ll take with me on one of my resets. A song about how comically dangerous California is, as I go to California. How perfect is that?

I’m still looking for my other jams. I definitely still need to find them but, for you guys, I’ll list some hot shit I listened to tonight. That at least have a line or two that I not only like, but find relatable to my situation right now. I think that’s something I subconsciously look for before these adventures. So I’ll share a couple goofs:

I gotta shout out my friend Ty for mashing up two legendary songs in this powerhouse: 

I’m doing a hundred on the highway, so if you do the speed limit, get the fuck out of my way. Fire.

HAIM’s Don’t Save Me. Of course. 

Give it up, give it up to me. Cause I can’t go on, if your love isn’t strong. See I want it all, gimme, gimme all your love. Fire. 

Prague also got me into battle rap. Not for any Czech reason, just cause I got into it while I was out there. And now it is my shit. I know... But dudes, some of this shit is fire. This battle is pure bars. Just skip to all of Fresco’s shit if you have to.

“Picture me in your girls mouth, she was loving the imagery, 

when I came inside her head, like a fucking epiphany.”

“I’ll go to your hood and set up shop, like gentrification,

and take errrrybody out, like a special occasion.”

“That means I’ll...spray up the family van: car wash, fundraise,

Buck it, take tops off: air dry, sun rays.

Slump him like a bean bag: freeze tag, gun play,

Five man, kill streak: care pack, upgrade.”

Fire.

Also, this:

FIRE.

Anyway. At the end of the day (and for me) it’s all about making big leaps. I’m not so good at taking things one step at a time. I’m either all in or not in at all. And I’m all in for San Francisco. I’m real excited, and if you made it this far, maybe you’re excited for me too. Check out the hot fire I listed for you in this post, and send some fire my way. I’ll leave you with the track that holds a real special place in my heart. Perfect tone and mood for what I’m feeling these days. A bit nostalgic and scared, but upbeat and excited.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTIUDsb2XGs

Peace yo.

-J Tomorrow

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

On Chairlift’s Breakup

Hello friends,

I have a confession: driving makes me very, very anxious.

On the road, I’m afraid of every driver that isn’t me. Honestly, I’m afraid of every driver that is me, too. I even have nightmares about it sometimes. In some of them, I get cripplingly injured; in some, I end up injuring others instead. I’m not sure which of the two is worse, but I’d really love some other options.

Anyway, a day or two after my road test, I took the 30-minute drive—50 minutes at my then-oh-so-timid pace—to Andrea’s, not considering that I wouldn’t be driving home until well after nightfall.

The ride there went about as well as expected. The traffic slowed the pace down a little—which was nice—as I blasted Chance 3 to keep the anxiety down.

The ride back wasn’t quite as mellow. There’s no way for a new driver to anticipate how different driving becomes once the sun’s down. Suddenly, the other drivers are trying to blind you. And every shadow becomes an unexpected pedestrian.

But, most significantly, there’s a shift in the general mood. The world becomes terrifying. The sidewalk-ers all want to kill you, rob you, and/or sell you[r] sex. And all the drivers hate you too. And that cop? He doesn’t care if you did anything wrong; he’s pulling you over. Moonlight breeds paranoia.

That night, I hopped into Lou—my goofy Kia—and drove into this awful alternate reality. The fear was immediate: I’m not making it home. I’m going to die here.

Not even Chance 3 was enough to ease the panic. So I shuffled through my iPod, looking for anything that could distract from the imagined murderers and miscreants out in the street. Then, after countless skips, the Shuffle-Gods performed their finest miracle.

First came the pulsing keyboards, then the drum machine, and then the voice—a voice that sounded, to me, like a genuine, honest-to-Jah angel.

It was Chairlift’s “I Belong in Your Arms.”

It’s a song that draws strength from sincerity. Caroline Polachek sounds like she could punch a hole in the sun if it’ll get her to where she wants to be. And, for a little while, I felt like maybe I could too. Was I still afraid of everyone on earth? Of course I was. But now, I felt empowered. Fear couldn’t hold me back.

That was back in February. Ten months later, there’s a lot more to be afraid of. And, as if late-2016 wasn’t depressing enough, Chairlift has announced that they’re officially breaking up, just eleven months after their latest album: the excellent Moth. On that album, they emerged as one of the most confident indie-pop acts working today. No longer a secret to be shared in whispers, the Chairlift of Moth was going to take on the world. They were reshaping pop in their own image, with intricate, leaping melodies housed in gorgeously dense arrangements. Several tracks on Moth—e.g. “Ch-Ching,” “Romeo,” and “Polymorphing”—rank among 2016′s finest, and it breaks my heart to know that there won’t be more of them.

Right now, I’m waist-deep, wading through grad finals—even without the announcement, it’s been a pretty rough week. So, tonight, on the way home from a long day of tests, I put on “I Belong in Your Arms” to see if I could feel that invincibility again. Then, once it ended, I put it on again.

Sincerely,

BranNob

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

Because the Internet meets Awaken my love Credit: Lost in 86, https://www.facebook.com/lostin86/

[barrybadgerblog-blog]

We Got It From Here... Thank You 4 Your Service

A TRIBE CALLED MUFUCKIN QUEST.

When I think of Tribe I usually think of the time period before mine. The one that just skated by before I was born. The raps of the 90s and from the things I’ve listened to I feel like they are part of a big family. Like Wu Tang Clan and Tribe are absolutely cousins but like Wu Tang is the rowdy cousin that drinks too much at every holiday party but totally wants to put his arm around you and talk and slur about Sonny Chiba while Tribe is calmly sipping on whiskey trying to talk about the current state of politics or Pam Brown. 

That distinction matters, Tribe opens conversations and allows everyone to speak and that comes through so clearly through this album,. Although I have seen other people say that Tribe broke up awhile ago over the star power of Q-Tip (no doubt his words and flows are the pronounced voice on the album) all the features are impressive and add their flavor over wild production that boasts an Elton John song, Jack White guitars, Anderson Paak.’s smooth delivery and piano skills, a quick one, two punch verse from Kendrick Lamar and a general “boom bap” sound of the 90s. Busta Rhymes has not missed a beat and is just a monster on any track. Even on more relaxed songs like “Dis Generation”  he hangs back and delivers my favorite line about Jet Li, UFC and smoking so much ganj it sizzles your USB, just because the words are so precise and it just sounds so. good.

The elephant in the room is the unfortunate passing of main member Phife Dawg before the album was finished. That would’ve been a huge problem for me because it can easily be seen as a cash grab of the worst kind. But unlike posthumous albums of Big Pun and Biggie, all the verses recorded by Phife were placed well into songs as well as being excellent verses like in “We the People” with people that clearly loved him and cared for his work. 

In usual Tribe fashion, they cover a range of topics including politics, Trump, love, ego, hope in today’s generation (they quickly name Joey Bada$$, J Cole, Kendrick as the gatekeepers of rap) and the pain of losing someone you love. “Lost Somebody” is emotional and beautiful with searing samples and vibrant instrumentals.

There isn't a bad verse on here, everyone contributes and supposedly anyone who contributed on the album never left the booth as they were told to stay around for the whole album. There’s complexity, comedy, sincerity, lyrical and vocal dexterity all over the album and the more I keep coming back to it the more I find. For example, I had to look up the chorus in “Melatonin” because I thought it was it was just a weak way to rhyme with the word wish in the next line. but then you find out its about popping melatonin like Swedish fish to sleep which changes the whole way you look at it.

“The Killing Season” and “Kids...” are probably my least favorite especially Kids... featuring Andre 3000 mostly because the sonically dissonant beat sounds like something that should’ve been done in an Outkast album a few years ago. But even so, least favorite is relative to how amazing the others are. There are still great points made (parents were once teenagers so they should probably stop being so judge-y also on Kids...) and good flows but where these two are good the others are stellar. 

Tribe keeps it fresh. Never stays in place for too long. Doesn’t focus on old movie quote samples, if theres a drum focused song the next will be a funky bass focused song such as :Whatever Will Be”, never sits down for one subject for more than a verse (unless its the thumping “Ego”). It’s a creative, fun, emotional zig- zag of an album. This will be the album you laugh to, rap like a large Jamaican man in your car alone to and maybe shed a tear over. 

The crew does a rare thing where the listener is not only the audience and a part of the conversation but part of the family. 

A-

Top 3 Songs: The Space Program, Dis Generation, Conrad Tokyo

- Reviewed By JarvTarv