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What XXXtentacion’s Death Says About Our Culture

   XXXtentacion’s gunshot death this week has cemented his already-established status as one of the most powerful, misunderstood, and enigmatic voices of hip-hop’s newest generation. As an artist, as a mentor, he was an essential personality across SoundCloud verses and Instagram live videos in an emergent, counter-cultural movement of musicians and influencers taking to the internet to vent and air their expressions unspoiled by large corporate interests. X epitified this character: a ceaselessly working young man with the edgy charisma of an Iggy Pop, or a Charles Manson. Around his name are and always have been a whirlwind of controversies and alleged misconduct: a brutal assault of a girlfriend, a jailhouse beating, a deviant and disgusting personality. But those who knew X through his social media presence and through his art valued him for something that they felt superseded the personal allegations: his rawness. The tragic losses of X and Lil Peep serve as a reminder that this is exactly not the era of Tupac and Biggie. These artists have worn their emotions on their sleeves, and their faces, and have ushered in a profoundly new era of hip-hop fans who are encouraged to be in touch with their emotions, to express their existential suffering, their mental illness, and to shed themselves of the amoral machismo that has so long accompanied the rapper persona. And that is precisely why his death at the hands of gun violence is so poignant and so unfortunate. X was not a “thug” (read: n-word), in fact he was a troubled survivor of abuse and poverty that circumnavigated the gangster image to create something altogether new, and deeper. Allegations such has his have accompanied so many celebrated artists in our culture, from Alfred Hitchcock to John Lennon. Jidenna likened him to Malcolm X at the same age, leaving us all wondering what could have been. Our American culture stands at a tipping point between motivated, critical expression and desolate apathy. In the face of the Trump era, so many have elected to check out, to forget the world, to turn to opiates and pharmaceuticals to numb the emotions, to find empty solace in memes and mass media. X loathed that. So did Peep. They are both victims of this brutal culture and symbols of its inadequacy. It is my deepest hope as a hip-hop fan and scholar that this period of tragedy in our beloved genre serves as a kickstart to change that culture of apathy, of violence, and to make the changes in all our lives that X was so passionately advocating and working towards until the moment of his death. He was taken at only 20 years, but his voice and message echoes in eternity like Chatterton, Keats, Nat Turner, and Tupac’s have before him. Rest in peace, but there can be no peace without justice. -Danny

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Yung Simmie- Simmie Season (Mixtape Review)

     Yung Simmie is a lot smarter than his music betrays. And he’s really more of a hippie than a gangster, even if the South Florida-based rapper has a song on his newest effort, Simmie Season, called “9 Tucked.” Since the release of his debut full-length Basement Musik (2013), when Raider Klan was still a semi-functional collective, Simmie has carved his lane as the stoner of the crew, the laid-back lean-sipper, something like the internet wave’s attempt at Curren$y. And he sounds more like the Hot Spitta on Simmie Season than he ever has before. He’s always stoned, always relaxed, living a lavish life, never worrying about females, and never one to shy away from some real-life gangster stuff. Forget the keyboard warriors. Simmie has never been memorably deep in his lyrical content, preferring to rely on his impeccable flow and chilled-out aesthetic, ingratiating his nasaly voice deep into he and his collaborators’ knocking beats with almost mathematical precision. This is a formula he has capitalized on in a run of mixtapes, but never really emancipated himself from in a creative or groundbreaking way.

     Simmie Season plays on more of the same, letting his trademark sound flourish without any bells and whistles. Frequent collaborators like HighAF and Jaysplash make this mixtape into what it is, employing an array of sonically consistent beats that really do hold water in the highly saturated underground beat scene. They take the model developed by DJ Smokey and Spaceghostpurrp and add a touch of blunted, sunkissed psychedelia. The production really drives a tape like this, where Simmie is really only trafficking in an array of rap clichés and extant slang of the internet hip-hop scene. Simmie’s flow is serviceable, only at times showing the brilliance we saw on a project like Basement Musik II (2013) or Shut Up And Vibe (2013). On “Shoot Da 3,” Simmie is shown up in terms of both flow and content by frequent collaborator and golden boy of the moment, Miami’s Denzel Curry. As an aside, that track features Curry rapping in a more muted tone, shedding his recent penchant for intense, yelled verses, and that’s a good thing. While a little boring, Simmie’s play on the word “Curry” to mean both his musical partner and famed NBA player Steph Curry flashes his touch for ingenuity.

     As far as his message, if he even has one, Simmie seems to be frustrated by his lack of respect and recognition in the underground. This is best represented by the song “Underdog,” a smoked-out Jets-influenced piece where Simmie takes time to lay out just how unloved and unsung he really feels. Even with South Florida veterans like Denzel Curry, Robb Bank$, and Pouya crossing over into larger audiences and the hip-hop mainstream, Simmie’s music has yet to get that kind of love, and he has definitely noticed it. He might not realize, but those three artists found a way not to bore their fans to sleep with their music. Innovation and energy are the keys that Yung Simmie is lacking. On the gorgeous Spanish guitar-laden track “Flexin”, HighAF channels his inner Stoupe, crafting an excellent, retro sample-based beat. And Simmie goes at his doubters, rapping, “I’m usually humble, but today I’m flexin.” He should flex more than once in a while though, because his humility will become an impediment in his career if he continues down this path.

     Where Simmie succeeds is when he gives himself over to the trance of drugs, girls, rap music, and hot weather. The best songs on here like “Drama Time”, “Traffic” and “Just For Fun” are almost surreal in their indulgence, and the rap game itself has become a dream for Simmie. He fades in, he fades out; he’s really really high. “Traffic”, a symbol of that dazed and confused attitude, find HighAF going all out with a head-knock beat, old Memphis samples being reworked over a psychedelic array of guitar riffs and stabs. The flow, here, is reminiscent of Lil Uzi Vert, and might be his best on the mixtape. On “9 Tucked”, Simmie indulges in an Amy Winehouse-related rhyme couplet that is really too corny to be tolerated. Certainly throughout the project, the production outshines Simmie, who at this point is really struggling to establish a notable or distinguishable persona. His trademark “bum, bum, bum” adlibs are sometimes the only thing reminding the listener that this really is a Yung Simmie piece.

     This is a certified hippie album for Simmie, whose real name is Andrew L. Thomas, and the song “Just For Fun” cements it as such. Over a beat that wouldn’t sound out of place at a renaissance faire, he lays out his philosophy. This is a nihilistc, carefree mixtape that exists only for fun, which is a disappointment because both his fans and critics know, Yung Simmie is capable of a lot more than this. It might be red meat for the diehards, and is helped by some capable and memorable production, but it just isn’t a standout, and will almost certainly get lost in the deep web by the time the 2016 year-end lists are unfurled.

Final Rating: 4.9/10

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$uicideboy$- Radical $uicide (EP Review)

     No strangers to irony, New Orleans’ $uicideboy$ have made me more happy than almost any other rap act on the come up in the past few years. Since their now fabled interview with Adam22 of No Jumper, these two white guys from the Dirty South (known as Slick Sloth and Ruby Da Cherry individually) have become the darlings of the underground internet rap scene, piggybacking off the success of their disparate, and oftentimes larger, collaborative partners. Since their song and subsequent EP with South Floridian, L.A.-based rapper Pouya (who’s had his own remarkable rise since his early days with the Raider Klan), as well as rhyming over beats by the massive EDM star Getter, the $uicideboy$ have made all the right moves to get the most ears out there listening to their music. They even influenced Indonesian rapper Rich Chigga, who credited them as his idols after going viral with his hit song “Dat $tick.” This has been the product of intensely hard work and undeniable skill with the bars. Having followed them since their early days on Bandcamp, I feel like a proud dad. As for releases, they follow the Lil Wayne/Gucci Mane model. The ‘boy$ have more mixtapes, albums and EPs than most would care to count. And they keep getting better.

     Take for instance this latest project, the Radical $uicide EP produced mostly by the aforementioned Getter. Getter is an EDM DJ and along with his friend Nick Colletti, the creator of the viral meme “Suh Dude”. But listening to this and his work with Pouya, his underground rap credentials seem legit. He may be hilarious, but his music is no joke. And Pouya and the $uicideboy$ sound better over Getter than they ever have before, except for maybe Slick Sloth’s own production; that’s always fire (“this a Scrim beat!”). I think what is most striking about the $uicideboy$ evolution in the underground scene and their rise as standard bearers of dark, Three 6 Mafia-flavored southern hip-hop is the development of their deliveries, in particular that of Ruby Da Cherry. As he revealed on No Jumper, Ruby is fairly new to rapping, having paid his dues in the hardcore punk scene for years. With that in mind, it’s fascinating watching him push his flow and delivery into unexplored, experimental terriroty, combining shouts and grunts with a baritone singing voice that can consume even the largest of beats. And that’s why Getter’s EDM-influenced beats complement this full-throated approach. The problem is that it is really hit or miss, best shown on “Memoirs of a Gorilla” where Ruby begins his verse with a drawn out yell, and proceeds to dance over the beat, sucking all the air out.

     If you like dark, aggressive hip-hop, then the Radical $uicide EP is definitely for you, but if you don’t, if you’re say, a big fan of Pro Era, please steer clear of the $uicideboy$. As their sound becomes more unique, and they distinguish themselves from acts like Bones, Key Nyata, or Ghostemane, they do run the risk of alienating some of their fanbase, but also stand to gain legions of new suburban, depressed kids. With their incredibly abrasive sound, their projects and songs are wisely kept short. If the $uicideboy$ find a way to balance their palpable energy with beats that give them more space to really work out their flows, they could leave a lasting mark on the underground hip-hop scene. The opening track “Stop Calling Us Horrorcore” does almost nothing to assuage their anxiety over that label, since the aggressive, violent lyrics throughout this project really do hint at a sort of metaphorical, artistic distance that these artists establish between themselves and their music, a hallmark of horrorcore hip-hop. Regardless of the label, $uicideboy$ have found their lane, and while its not one for everyone, its certainly a winning formula for their niche fanbase.

Final Rating: 3/5

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Rae Sremmurd- SremmLife 2 (Album Review)

     SremmLife 2 is here for the youth. At just 24 years old, even I wonder if I’m too old for this music. But I felt better when one half of Rae Sremmurd, our favorite Mississippi-grown rap duo, chants that’s he’s “young boy living like an old geezer.” Maybe age really is just a number; mind state is what really matters. Ah, Rae Sremmurd. A rap duo with all the right sounds, their debut album SremmLife (2015) hit every note so deftly that some underground heads were wary of their viral rise to fame in the wake of a slew of massive hit singles. Is this the new New Boyz? Or are these the standard bearers of ATL-styled rap that will push the work started by Travis Porter and their ilk into the public discourse? While the final answer to those questions remains to be seen, SremmLife 2 showcases Swae Lee and Slxm Jxmmi’s pop instincts, without diving off the deep end into Bieber or Kent Jones territory. Much of the reason for the that is the curation of their sound conducted by now-legendary pop and rap producer Mike Will Made It. Like on their first album, Mike Will had a hand in almost every track on the project, and his electronic hip-hop sounds reigns in the sweet melodies of Swae’s young voice into flows and chants, more than songs fully sung. It sounds like Swae has the ability to go full PBR&B but thankfully he seems to have resisted these urges for now (we’ll be waiting on Swaecation).

     And it’s a great thing he never gave into that side, because he is a skilled enough rapper, singer, and melody-maker that he can be versatile while remaining somewhere within a cohesive sound. This means that when his thin little voice succeeds, one must get up out their chair and start swaggering, but he fails, he gives a new meaning to the idea of “Ear Drummers.” Yes, a few of the songs on this album made my ears bleed. But a few others felt like Swae and Jxmmi were sensually fellating my eardrums. It’s been a while since hip-hop has had such a bipolar artist in the mainstream. Take for instance the opener, “Start A Party”. It may as well have been called “dentist, start the drill” because it opens with the most ear-shatteringly abrasive wall of white noise. I don’t blame anyone who turned off the album after the first song. It’s awful. The two teens’ voices are cracking over a messy and loud beat that genuinely sounds like a factory at work. This is not “how you start a party.” But then things improve rapidly with the second piece, “Real Chill”, a collaboration with it-rapper of the moment Miami’s Kodak Black. Here, Sremmurd keep their flows within a tolerable range of tone. But those verses are only serviceable in comparison to what Kodak did with his part; he killed it. If anyone still doubts Kodak Black, this verse should convert them. He is the “real deal” and I could probably write an entire article on his multi-flow verse alone. It was that unique and memorable. But that’s for another time.

     With high highs and low lows, the Rae Sremmurd boys have crafted a hip-hop album drenched in pop, instead of the other way around, and that’s a good thing. Perhaps the strongest track on the album, the boldly titled “Black Beatles” with the liberated Gucci Mane, demonstrates Swae’s gift for earworm hook melodies, Jxmmi’s high energy party rap style, and their ability to collaborate with artists with totally different sounds while maintaining sonic and stylistic chemistry. This can also go badly, like on the DJ Mustard-produced “Set The Roof” with Lil Jon, which to be honest, was torture to listen through on my Beats. That song, along with “Start A Party” should only be played at EDM-type shows. They could fit there, but sitting next to smooth hooks over underwater, understated Mike Will production, they stick out, in a bad way. Regardless, the youth will enjoy it, and Rae Sremmurd bask in the light of those festivals, with crop tops and muscle shirts abound. Sometimes the Sremm boys strike me as more musically gifted clones of Soulja Boy, maybe something like Roscoe Dash. It might sound corny (they did feature Lil Jon), but it’s a recipe for success, and for every teen who wants to pop a molly during “Set The Roof”, there’s a hip-hop head bumping “Black Beatles” or “Look Alive.” And that’s pretty groundbreaking, the underground has gone overground and the overground has gone underground. Slxm Jxmmi says on “Came A Long Way” “I wish a nigga would say I ain’t got cash, man, I’ll blow all the hundreds in your face.” But I don’t think there’s a soul out there who would say that. These boys have long money and a long future.

Final Rating: 5.2/10

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iLoveMakonnen- Red Trap Dragon (Mixtape Review)

    Makonnen Sheran captures the zeitgeist of post-Lil B, post-internet music in a way few others have been able to do, couching his career in ambiguity, misdirection, and a zany extemporaneous style. His grind was long, house arrest having forced him into the creative sphere in a way only exile can. He staked out his position on the age-old quality/quantity debate by letting loose an enormous run of musical releases until he finally got noticed with 2014’s iLoveMakonnen EP. Many were off put by his tone-deaf melodic singing, which was inflected by a nursery rhyme sense of tune (see: Lil Yachty), combined with in your face, unabashed trap talk. One of Makonnen’s most pervasive themes has always been selling “gas” and “dope” but he artfully toes the line between hot substances and hot tracks, leaving it up to the listener to create their own biography for Makonnen. He’s simultaneously an Atlanta gang-banger, a romantic crooner, a psychedelic warbler, and a freestyle master. No one else has done that. While Red Trap Dragon is not his most cohesive artistic statement, it does demonstrate Makonnen’s knack for song-making in a cool 28 minutes, which is exactly how long his shtick maintains its freshness.

     Makonnen is hard to place. That’s what brings me and his other fans back to his music even when his misses are more frequent that his hits. Those hits are groundbreaking, musically, not lyrically. In fact, Makonnen doesn’t seem to concerned with rapping in any traditional sense, or singing for that matter. He does something unique, which isn’t hard to throw in with OVO Sound, Drake’s Toronto-based imprint which Makonnen left without reason this year. He does share some of Drake’s sense of melody, but he takes it to its furthest extent, and on Red Trap Dragon, he doesn’t have any intention of getting radio play. This is for those young hip-hop head weirdos, you know, the kids on the BMX bikes in the CVS parking lot. Entirely produced by Danny Wolf, of “Trust Me Danny” fame, Wolf puts on display his own deft hand in creating balanced, head-knocking beats that compliment Makonnen’s delivery, keeping him on pace without overwhelming his thin voice. Wolf was a prescient choice.

     Red Trap Dragon probably isn’t going to convince anyone who didn’t like Makonnen that they should join his movement, but at the same time it’s unlikely to turn off any established fans. It’s clear that most of the verses, hooks, and ad-libs were totally freestyled, which adds a level of impressiveness to his work, hinting at a genuine musical genius bubbling under his outward, somewhat abrasive sound. To hit this point home, the track “Came From Nothin’” finds Makonnen stating that he’s “live on Periscope right now” making music in actual time for the fans. He really does this regularly, gifting whole songs to his internet fan-base through the live-streaming app. No one but Makonnen or Lil B could pull this off in such a captivating and infectiously joyful way. But Makonnen is still nowhere near the heights Lil B ascended to. While aware of his place in the game on “Sound Like Who”, lambasting his impersonators, he still doesn’t seem sure that he’ll make a lifetime out of music. On “Get Me Back Up”, after comparing his grind to that of his shoe-designing friend Fisher, he boldly exclaims, “I’m like, boy, if I don’t make it, I’ma push that blow / All the way from Mexico down to Atlanta.” We wonder if he really thinks he’d need to live that life ever again, surely he still making royalties off of Drake’s remix of Makonnen’s hit “Tuesday”. But he’s talking real talk, the kind of thing those parking lot teens want to hear, need to hear.

     In a world where people’s futures seem more and more out of their own control, Makonnen’s work ethic (he lost an incredible amount of weight this year too), is both jarring and inspirational. Trump or no Trump, TPP or no TPP, Makonnen will still be pushing music, drugs, and whatever else is hot on the streets to keep himself above water to put on for his community. While Red Trap Dragon will certainly not be his most celebrated or remembered piece of work, it effectively catches Makonnen’s fans up to speed on where he is today (that is, if you didn’t already catch it on Periscope). And most importantly, it keeps pushing internet age trap ballad-making into unexplored waters, and with the help of Danny Wolf, puts on display 2016’s ménage of trap music, heartbreak anthems, and experimental melodies.

Final Grade: 6.1/10

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Future- Dirty Sprite 2 (Album Review)

    Dirty Sprite 2 is a venomous new entry into Atlanta rapper Future’s influential catalog of sad-robot, autotuned contemporary trap music. Future has been pushing the envelope of his city’s homegrown genre since 2011’s scene-busting Dirty Sprite and his hit single “Tony Montana”. His crackling croak has explored the limits of melody and vocal range over the type of production made ubiquitous by trap legends like Gucci Mane and Young Jeezy. Unlike those godfathers, Future has sung his way into an entirely new category of trap music, belting out hooks like a rock singer and oscillating topically between hedonistic excess and tender introspection. His autotuned vocals have influenced hip-hop worldwide, cementing the futuristic sound as a go-to for melodic hooks and bouncy verses lacing trap instrumentals.

     Revisiting the title of the mixtape that began Future’s journey back when he was still playing sidekick to Gucci Mane (see Free Bricks (2011)), it’s clear Future has developed as an artist and a person immensely since he came up. His newfound stardom has left him more bitter and jaded, disillusioned with his own role in his city and music writ large. On “Slave Master” he raps, “Staying true to this culture / Don’t get caught trying to be a vulture / With a pinky ring on my pinky finger”. And on the fourth track, “Groupies,” he seems to drown his existential crisis in the embrace of loveless women, spitefully growling,  “Yeah, I’m back fucking my groupies!” on the hook. Even the album artwork shows he’s become more convoluted since the celebratory days of Dirty Sprite’s “Yeah Yeah” and “Racks.” But this isn’t a bad stylistic shift at all, in fact, it posits a new focus and produces more compelling music.

     Where a hook like the one on “Blow A Bag” would’ve been ecstatic on the first Dirty Sprite, Future is able to make “I blow a bag today / I don’t do nothing fugazi / I blow a bag today / Walk in the mall and go crazy” sound melancholy and solipsistic. The skeletal production on tracks like this only leads to the lonely trap-star aesthetic he’s crafting on the project. The lone feature on the album comes from Drake, which is further symbolic of his updated sensibility, and it finds the Toronto megastar delivering acidic lines like “Where your ass was at, dog, when bitches didn't need me? / Where your ass was at? Last winter was the coldest” going bar-for-bar with Future as the two stars push just how lonely the top really can be. It’s an interesting move and an effective one; Future is more than capable of wading his way through the greater chunk of a full-length project solo, like he’s done on his recent Monster (2014) and Beast Mode (2015) releases. But he’s even more focused than he was on those strong releases, finding his own voice amid his confusion and sounding more than ever like the rockstar he was born to be.

     Some songs fall a bit flat toward the second half, like “Rich $ex,” “Trap Niggas” or “The Percocet & Stripper Joint” which do push the narrative forward but feel like fat that could have been trimmed. They aren’t necessarily bad songs, but they lack the explosive energy of the first half, highlighting a more quiet side of the artist. Overall, Dirty Sprite 2 is one of Future’s best releases and continues the run of solid projects he’s kept up since his career began. There’s nothing as instantly creative melodically as “Tony Montana” or No Sleep’s “The Matrix (Back To Basics)” from 2013, but he’s succinct in his expression and focused with his material. It would’ve been wise to leave a few of the ending tracks on the cutting-room floor and keep it short like Beast Mode because this new album clocks in at about an hour long. But this is a small complaint when the first half is as strong as it is. The closing track, “Fuck Up Some Commas,” is a solid conclusion with Future leaving his message, something like, “the sky is the limit but I’ll never be happy,” as his mission statement going forward. This will always create captivating art and let’s hope Future continues his run of unique and skillful releases.

Final Rating: 7.8/10

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Black Kray- Still Strugglin’ Still Shinnin’ (Mixtape Review)

     Black Kray’s mouth-full-of-marbles delivery is not for everyone. But for those who can dig his dirty, punk chanting over southern flavored beats, he’s a master of his craft and a god of the underground. The self-dubbed CEO of Goth Money Records has built a devoted cult following around his eccentric taste and musical style. He warbles about looking like a princess, crying, stacking Gucci chips, riding in Hondas, smoking endless blunts, and cute goth boos and it’s an undeniably unique and raucously addictive way to nod your irrevocably stoned head. He has arguably invented the beautiful triple juxtaposition of romance, poverty, and upward momentum. The Virginia rapper and filmmaker’s latest project Still Strugglin’ Still Shinnin’ exudes that in its perfectly misspelled title alone. Previous full lengths like City of Doves (2014) and Thug Angel (2015) were memorable and successful entries into the Goth Money Records catalog, which includes his protégé Luckaleann’s groundbreaking debut Flexican Mayor (2014).

    Still Strugglin’ picks up where he left off on Thug Angel with the melodic opener “98 Flamboy” which finds Kray Kray flexing in a Lexus as he avoids police, chanting “Hot, boy / Raw, ice / Shine up, all night”. You are not supposed to understand everyword, let the voice and synths lull you into that Flexican trance. Not every song succeeds like the intro does, and that’s the gamble of a Black Kray mixtape. For it to hit that sweet spot, Kray’s chants and mushy enunciations have to bounce perfectly over the slow, electronic trap beat. “Glock Luv” misses that mark. But it picks up again on “Don’t Hit My Nextel” where Kray’s enthusiasm for outdated technology blends into a background of trap bells adorned with gun shots. This is where Black Kray is best. He’s always in his element though, and rarely strays. The bass needs to slap, the lyrics need to make you cry and dance triumphantly at the same time.

     And you will cry while the rural boy waxes philosophical on the sadder songs here. “Let Da Block Cry (Free Uncle Juiceman)” produced by Thraxxhouse’s Jayyeah does just that. Wiping tears, he raps “I’m ridin’ by ‘lone / ‘Cause I lost my niggas and my hoe / And nobody even know / The type of shit I go through /  Sat up in the ‘rari roof / In the rain hangin’ out the roof”. It’s moments like these where Black Kray displays an unexpected depth and a rare gift for deeply symbolic picture-painting. He’s one of the best in the genre at shining away real life problems and inviting the listener on a journey that doesn't forget troubles, but actively rejects their power, even celebrating them. He turns scars into reasons to smile and he makes real tears more gangster than tear tattoos. Fuck everybody; Black Kray teaches you that only need some stacks of cash, a flip phone, a comfortable car, and a dimebag to experience what life can offer. Wash yourself in your emotions: embrace it.

     This self-love and self-reliance that comes from Kray is his own unique form of medication and it’s a powerful therapy for himself and the listener. On the tape’s best track, “Luv U Bwoi (R.I.P.)”, he delivers more knowledge as a one-minute-in beat drop hits the right buttons. He spits, “Smokin’ by myself to keep the pain away / Fuck my friends, they left me hangin’, man /  I’m a diamond in the dirt, somebody find me, join in, damn / Niggas on my ass they want to stop my shine and kill me, man.” It doesn’t get much better than that. If you can find moments like this to relate to, to find companionship in, all while keeping a full glass of ironic, rap lifestyle imagery, Black Kray is almost umatched in his power. But if you can’t make out enough words, or you just don't get it. Don’t blame yourself; this isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea. But the truth is, Kray is making fantastic and potent art and enjoying himself while doing it, creating new trends, dropping wisdom, being himself, and mending his broken heart with benjamins and bowls. Let it wash over you.

Final Rating: 7.9/ 10

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A$AP Rocky- At. Long. Last. A$AP (Album Review)

    A$AP Rocky’s first two studio albums weren’t garbage, but they were a product of careful recycling. That’s why his new album, coming in the wake of the tragic death of his mentor, friend, and invaluable hype man A$AP Yams, is his most ambitious and creative project yet. Does that mean Rocky has shed the generic swaggy, “jiggy” hipsterism that characterized his rapid rise to fame and popularity along with his lean-sipping compadres of Harlem’s A$AP Mob? No. The young artist still struggles try to move away from the “What is that? Givenchy” banality he’s adorned beautiful beats with since 2011. At. Long. Last. A$AP does feature a more diverse range of topics and concepts than any of his previous albums, but that doesn’t mean he’s emancipated himself into Killer Mike range. It’s a jumbled mess of unfinished ideas and ambitious grasps towards real art. But for a rapper with wide appeal and average intelligence, this may be as close as he can get to something profound. And that’s a good thing for the genre.

    Thanks to the buzz built through the late Yams’ classic “RealNiggaTumblr” that connected Rocky and his friends with the top names in the game from producers to label heads, A$AP Rocky has been receiving some of the best beats in the game, both overground and underground, since his first two albums dropped. The product of a major, multi-million dollar deal while still unproven, Rocky has cleanly repackaged the aesthetic and ethos of the cloud and trap scenes for a wider audience. It’s been largely a successful gambit, spurred on by backdrops from cloud rap beat-making legends like Clams Casino and Friendzone. Some of those names are absent from At. Long. Last. A$AP. and while the production is still well executed on tracks like “Lord Pretty Flacko 2” and “L$D”, the touch has become a little less deft.

    The latter of those songs is his furthest departure from his comfort zone on the album thus far. Using an Iron Butterfly-inspired ‘60s bassline, the psychedelic song swells with prototypical trippiness that succeeds aesthetically where it fails lyrically. Crooning in semi-falsetto, Rocky’s otherworldly lead single is fun and adorned with a great video, but features some cringe-inducing lyrics that scream, “Hey guys, I took acid, I’m deep now!” No Rocky, you’re still not deep. Lines like “Let me introduce you to this hippie life” or “Dreamin’ and sharin’ lo-o-ve” are too obviously aimed at reproducing a psychedelic ‘60s vibe that they come across as rather unnatural. But the song still vibes nicely. Keeping up with his lean-toward-the-underground posture, the second track “Canal St.” features internet golden boy Bones. Disappointingly, it’s just a rework of Bones’ “Dirt” from the excellent Scumbag (2013). Adding some amped-up percussion to Klimeks’ original piano beat, “Canal St.” lifts Bones’ verses leaving only re-recorded hooks as a skeleton for A$AP Rocky’s verses. But Rocky’s generic rhymes like “Fuck jiggy, I’m flawless / Fuck pretty, I’m gorgeous” just feel recycled and lame, leaving the listener itching for more Bones and less Rocky.

    Along with the aforementioned “Lord Pretty Flacko 2”, these three songs constitute the strongest on the album, a project whose second half drops off significantly despite big names like Kanye West and Lil Wayne, as well as Rod Stewart (?), appearing as guests. M.I.A.’s early struggle on “Fine Whine” (“Tell your new bitch she can suck a dick!”) is more of a tone setter than “Canal St.” or “L$D”. Schoolboy Q shows up on the decent “Electric Body” to shout some mediocre rhymes over slick production. “Wavybone” with Juicy J, Bun B, and another  posthumous Pimp C verse is easily forgotten. “M’$” with Lil Wayne isn’t awful and Wayne croaks out some tongue-twisters, but it’s another aimless, vacuous collection of rhymes over an almost-huge beat. The lo-fi interlude two tracks from the end is confusing and while “Everyday” continues the rock-inspired feel of the album, the last song “Back Home” with a rare Mos Def verse is really disappointing, amounting to a disjointed collection of sounds.

    In a nutshell, A$AP Rocky can rhyme serviceably but not outstandingly. He can pull huge names from everywhere in music to lend their hands and without it, he’d be a lot less. The dedication to Yams was touching, but without his guidance, Rocky must find the kind of focus and unity RealNiggaTumblr lent to the rise of the A$AP Mob. His third full-length project is his least memorable yet, and although it can captivate at moments, it lacks the cohesive statement the world needs from A$AP Rocky and his collaborators and leaves more questions about his relation to his craft open than answered.

Final Rating: 6.6/10

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Bones- YouShouldHaveSeenYourFace (EP Review)

     Bones is arguably the premier rapper and artist in the underground right now. With basically zero cosigns and a deadpan “no” to every label offer, Bones has become the auteur to beat in the free mixtape world, having released dozens of superb projects over the past few years, beginning with a few recorded under the name Th@ Kid. His career really took off around the time he changed his name to Bones and began collaborating with ex-Raider Klan affiliates like Eddy Baker, Xavier Wulf, and Chris Travis, with whom he has formed the super group Seshollowaterboyz. His tapes all play like fully formed albums, lacking any DJ shouts, and skimpy on features, with only the occasional appearance from frequent collaborators sprinkled among his dark-tinted rapping and singing over gothic cloud rap trap beats. He’s recorded collaborative full lengths and EPs with Xavier Wulf, Chris Travis, and underground phenom Dylan Ross. On the heels of this recent success, Bones has scored a feature on A$AP Rocky’s upcoming album, on the second song “Canal St.” from the prerelease tracklist, his first chance to record alongside mainstream, mega-successful artists. In light of this recent come-up, Bones has dropped a short and powerful new EP, titled YouShouldHaveSeenYourFace.

     This 6-song EP showcases Bones’ wide-ranging ability and style in a diverse 13 minutes that will appeal to both his fans and new listeners. The first track “AUX” is an ominous, deep auto-tune chant that sets the tone, in line with previous pieces like “ArtesianWater” from Deadboy (2014) or “SearchingForService” off of Garbage (2014). It’s bookended by another dark ballad, the EP-finishing “Potassium” which finds his deep voice floating over synth melodies. The beats from Stereoryze, Cat Soup and Drip-133 are all within the style that has made Bones an underground legend already, darkly ominous with pangs of regret and memory over driving bass lines. The best of these six songs is probably “RightWhereILeftIt” which features a melodic crystalline beat and the understated hook “Oh okay, I be doin’ the same shit.” Bones has perfected the style of the disillusioned, white suburban hip-hop head, heavily influenced by 90’s Three Six Mafia, heavy metal and vaporwave in equal measure. In his run over the past three years, Bones has become possibly the best and most prolific white rapper since Eminem. This EP is a short, understated masterwork and will leave the listener with the dripping resonance a Bones project guarantees. Calling himself “the underworld’s finest, the graveyard’s beloved,” on “Ribs,” hip-hop’s favorite morbid white rapper seems poised to change the game forever, and 2015 could be his year.

Final Rating: 4.8/5

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Cold Hart- Uns4fe (Mixtape Review)

     Cold Hart is an eminent member of the Seattle and Los Angeles-based collective Thraxxhouse, along with the likes of Shabazz Palaces/Digable Planets’ Ishmael Butler’s son Yung Bruh, cloud-rap emo singer Horse Head, gothic croaker Wicca Phase Springs Eternal, and rappers Mackned and Key Nyata, formerly of Raider Klan. Each of these members, along with a slew of other lesser-known artists, has created his own niche, and in the case of Wicca Phase and Horse Head, arguably entirely new genres, drawing equal parts from witch house, Kanye West’s 808’s & Heartbreak (2008), early-2000’s emo, and Spaceghostpurrp’s dark and spacious trap rap. Cold Hart is neither rapper nor singer; he’s somewhere in between, talk-singing his way through his excellent new mixtape Uns4fe, produced entirely by underground beatmaker Jayyeah. In it, his deep voice ethereally floats over sparse trap beats layered in copious auto-tune, covering a masterfully juxtaposed mix of spite and celebration, a theme to which his delivery lends emotional, powerful, contemplative and angsty strength. Opening tracks with lines like “She sayin’ that she hate me right now / So I’ma hit the city ridin’ around” on “She Don’t Luv Me,” Cold Hart zeroes in on the modern hipster youth’s deep issues, inviting you into his world of heartbreak, cyber life and cyber loss, courtship of tumblr girls, steady rotation of blunts, conscious hedonism and solipsistic apathy.

    His subject matter and especially vocal delivery draws heavily on the digital mysticism created by Swedish artists Bladee and Thaiboy Digital of Yung Lean’s emergent Gravity Boys movement. In particular, he seems to have refined the otherworldly resonance of Bladee into a more steady rap-sing flow that wearily drifts into the ear. In effect, the young Asian-American has cemented a place as a novel creator and driver of an entirely new scene, maybe even genre of music. Let’s call it cyber psychedelia, or witch trap, or internet emo. Whatever it is, it is catchy, depressing, uplifting, and pricelessly repayable all at once. In particular the production style, maybe best exemplified in the Horse Head collaboration “Early Summer,” displays a unique blend trap beats and raw, melancholy acoustic guitar which was first really synthesized on Horse Head’s Romantic, released Valentine’s Day this year.

    This short mixtape runs strong and smooth at 8 tracks and Cold Hart is able to hold his own, with only two features, both of which complement his style well. In this project as well as his V4mp1r3s (2014), .missed_calls (2014) and Foreign Rockstars (2015) with Tim Park, Cold Hart has deftly intermingled genres in a way that represents the very heart of what the Thraxxhouse movement is becoming. His themes and sound are well synced and provide a perfect soundtrack to breaking up, smoking by yourself and consequently coming up in the world, only to find those who once broke your heart turning into admirers, albeit too-late: heady stuff for anyone who spends most of their day in haze-filled clouds behind laptop screens. Thraxxhouse’s music is pushing what hip-hop means in 2015 and it’s sure to drive it into new, unexpected territory, and subsequent projects are more than hoped-for, they’re needed.

Final Rating: 9.0/10

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Xavier Wulf- Tundra Boy Season One (Mixtape Review)

    Why is Xavier Wulf so mad? That’s the question permeating throughout the Los Angeles-via-Memphis rapper’s newest release, the mixtape Tundra Boy Season One. A gifted rapper, Xavier has undergone a series of metamorphoses since his emergence as a core member of Spaceghostpurrp’s ill-fated Raider Klan collective, under his former nom-de-guerre, Ethelwulf. Since leaving the Klan, he has changed his name, teamed up with other former affiliates Bones, Chris Travis and Eddy Baker under the Seshollowaterboyz umbrella and released about a dozen solo and collaborative mixtapes and EPs, as well as a slew of single tracks. On this latest entry in his catalog, Wulf’s voice carries the distinct ferocity and southern twang that made him one of the preeminent kings of the underground rap world. He partially retains the core themes of anime references, boiling threats of violence and a middle-finger to the mainstream that has made him a unique phenomenon and contributed to the creation of a near-mythical hip-hop character. Yet, the katana-swinging sensei dreamed up through his own expansive imaginative capacity has to a degree given way to a more grounded, even angrier personage, that of a cocky and confident artist struggling to simultaneously spurn the powers that be and find a permanence in the shallow waters of hip-hop’s middle ground.

    It’s a disappointing feeling to lose the remarkably other-worldly Wulf fans grew to love on releases like Blood Shore Season One & Two (2014) and Caves (2013) and ダサい (2013) with Bones. This work marks a return to the seethingly irate Xavier Wulf on the speaker-rattling Shut Up And Listen EP from the fall of 2013. And as a result, it’s a hit or miss mixtape. Swinging for the fences every time means you will inevitably whiff once in a while. Over masterful production blending dark , trap bass and percussion lines with cloud-rap inspired soundscapes, Xavier Wulf holds nothing back over 8 straight tracks of brutal anger, bookended by two self-produced instrumentals.  

    But the question remains, exactly who does he have such a problem with; who is he scolding? Wulf himself litters the songs with ad-libs asking “Who? Who?” as if indicating his own struggle to find a victim for his overwhelming animus. He comes hard and fast on every track, no time for his trademark slow flows of previous projects. Flexing occasional technical virtuosity, some of his lines will stick in your head for their intelligence and wit, like “I’m Mr. Excellent, philosopher, professor / I’m not easily impressed, I’m pressing extra pressure” in “Philosopher’s Throne,” which also employs a frantic, dizzying beat that suits his delivery well. But wonderfully tongue-twisting earworms like that can be overshadowed by mean-spirited bars, particularly those aimed at his copious cult of groupies, such as “I pull up on a bitch, I don’t say shit she gettin’ in / But I had to kick her out cause I ain’t tell her ass to get in / I embarrass her in front of her little friends” from the same song. His simultaneous appreciation and disgust for his large following can be confusing, but even he admits, “I’m bipolar and I love this shit” in “Terrortuga Man.”

    Ultimately, the strong production (beats that demonstrate the mainstream doesn't even have enough room for the number of talented producers in cyber space) doesn’t save this project from being a miss in Xavier Wulf’s impressive discography. And while the second half plays much stronger than the first, it's disappointing to be largely without the charming anime-inspired fantasies that made his past releases so indelible. While it can be frustrating to try and make it totally independently in the superficial world of hip-hop, the internet has made Xavier Wulf one of it’s golden children, and he would be better suited to embrace his inner sensei side, and enjoy the sold-out L.A. shows, the hipster girls and the constant rotation of blunts with which the 22-year old has been rewarded.

Final Rating: 7.1/10

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Curren$y- Pilot Talk III (Album Review)

    Welcome back, Curren$y. The prolific stoner-rapper has released dozens of mixtapes and projects, including two classic albums, in his 13-year rap career, which dates back to an early stint at No Limit Records and Young Money entertainment, where he played backup on classic Lil Wayne cuts like “Where Da Cash At.” After leaving Young Money in late 2007, Curren$y took an entirely different course from his former labelmates, establishing a name for himself on the internet mixtape circuit as everyone’s favorite rambling, smoky-voiced car, film and blunt lover with a penchant for ‘70s samples and mumbled hooks. His first two albums This Ain’t No Mixtape (2009) and Jet Files (2010) were both enjoyable affairs but he found his stride with the outstanding Pilot Talk, released in the summer of 2010. That album cemented Curren$y as a mainstay of an emergent genre of hip-hop created exclusively for blunted stoners gazing out car windows, headed by himself and his close friend, Wiz Khalifa, whose legendary Kush & OJ (2010) precedes itself to this day as a masterpiece of stoner-rap.

    Over the next few years, Curren$y continuously released music at a staggering rate, including a strong sequel to Pilot Talk later that year, Pilot Talk II (2010). While the second installment didn’t match the genius of the original, it showed that Curren$y could easily drop skillful, hazy albums quickly, and with typical ease. Following albums Weekend At Burnie’s (2011) and The Stoned Immaculate (2012) were keeping in the style, but lacking the charisma of the original Pilot Talk. While never slowing at releasing slews of mixtapes, Curren$y sort-of became a mumbling backdrop to the quickly moving internet-rap world, never really straying from his guitar and bass sampling organic beats and scattered tales of weed, girls, cars, summer nights and the general good life. We all missed the feeling we got when we first heard Pilot Talk, except that Snoop Dogg verse on “Seat Change.” Never again, please, never again.

    Since then, Curren$y has spent a lot of time promoting his two Jet Life protégés, Trademark Da Skydiver and Young Roddy, who are always enjoyable but both yet to equal their mentor in releasing a classic piece of work. Now, welcome to 2015. Much has changed in the hip-hop universe in the five years since Pilot Talk, Wiz Khalifa became an unlikely superstar and Yung Lean and Riff Raff happened, but, the 34-year old rapper and indie mogul has decided to make the series a trilogy this year. And here we find ourselves, listening to Pilot Talk III as if nothing changed. And look who’s here, Wiz is still in the cut and everyone’s favorite icy Caucasian Texan, Horst Simco, better known as Riff Raff, is here on a Curren$y track. And he fits right in, rambling just offbeat on the Harry Fraud-produced “Froze” right beside the master of stoned free association rap himself. The new album is definitely keeping in the series. Curren$y hasn’t changed his subject matter an iota, nor has he altered his taste in beats, the majority of which sample ‘70s guitar music, funk and soul with relaxed drum patterns and a notable lack of hi-hats from established masters like Ski Beatz, Cool & Dre, and Jahlil Beats. It’s certainly charming to hear Curren$y in his element again and anyone with whom Pilot Talk and Pilot Talk II resonated will be happy to feel that nostalgia for Spitta doing what he does best.

    There is nothing immediately wrong with this new project, but there is nothing particularly outstanding either, it is a solid clinic in Curren$y’s flavor of hip-hop and it’s guaranteed to appeal to his solid fanbase, but unlikely to garner any new listeners. While the meandering crooning of J. Townsend on “Life I Chose” could have been left on the cutting room floor, features from buddy Wiz Khalifa, Riff Raff and guest-verse veterans Jadakiss and Styles P are all surprisingly welcome and amusing. Roddy and Trademark are nowhere to be found, which is slightly disappointing for those hoping for a repeat of the energy of “Hold On” from the second volume, arguably the best song in the trilogy.

    Basically, Curren$y does the same thing in every song, rapping some form of “Sometimes I find answers in bottom of my pot jar,” from “Pot Jar” with Jadakiss, in the same baked monotone, always good, never great. “Cargo Planes” might be the best song on the album, where he waxes accidentally poetic, saying that “Ain’t know it when I wrote it / But my line saved a man’s life, when he met me, he told me” amid other tongue-twisting multi-syllabic rhymes over a cascading guitar and piano that moves his bars forward as effectively as is possible. And like in that song, his rhyming ability is in rare form, bending and twisting over each beat in a way that evidences he put a far amount of time into writing this one. It’s fun to imagine Wiz and Curren$y back at it like old times on “The 560 SL” and try to un-remember all the flops the former has put out since 2010. Plus Riff Raff is hilarious when he says things like “Drop a couple smells, top smells, top shelf, cheddar melt / Fast forward, silk chain made from Tinkerbell.” How many blunts? As usual, Curren$y is at his best rapping about that everyday stoner life his fans all live and love and they will certainly be pleased to hear this newest installment, confirmation that Spitta is nothing but himself, and probably always will be. And that’s a damn good rapper.

Rating: 6.5/10

[dopeopus]

Young Thug- Barter 6 (Album Review)

    In the light of nationwide conversations about the behavior of entire swathes of disenfranchised Americans reacting to the shootings of unarmed black men by police in places like Baltimore and Ferguson, Atlanta rapper Young Thug’s debut digital album Barter 6 seems like both a symbol of the zeitgeist and a representation of its visceral brutality. Even the artist’s name has become a catchword for those protestors, and, for those looking down, a common euphemism for the dirtiest racial slur in American English. And Thug’s album is just that, a pure, unadulterated, rambling rant of rebellion, nonconformity, anger, hedonism and reckless abandon.  Even the opening track, “Constantly Hating” has a hook that seems to say it all, but rather crudely: “But really what is it to do? / When the whole world constantly hating on you / Pussy nigga hold they nuts masturbating on you / Meanwhile the fucking federal banging on you / Nigga, tell me what you do / Would you stand up or would you turn to a pussy nigga?” There we see a microcosm of the thought process of every “young thug” in 2015 America.

     But the controversies surrounding this album don’t end there. Young Thug has a colorful background, rising through the trap scene as an outside weirdo whose unorthodox delivery, an unholy marriage of squeals, shouts and technical wizardry, has earned him a spot on Birdman’s Cash Money. That’s the same label that shelved its ostensible star Lil Wayne’s newest album, Carter V, in favor of pushing this teasingly titled release from its star of hit single “Lifestyle” with Rich Homie Quan, off their collaborative mixtape Tha Tour from earlier this year. Lil Wayne has disowned the man he once called “Daddy” as a result. Young Thug’s early mixtapes, from when he was loosely affiliated with Gucci Mane’s Bricksquad 1017, I Came From Nothing (2011) and 1017 Thug (2013) were as strange as they were compelling. And after a string of internet-buzzing singles like “Stoner” and “Danny Glover”, it seemed as though Thug had found his niche, as a freaky post-rap rapper with an oddly melodic sing-song flow, yelping generic street talk over trap beats.

     And besides the fact that this album rarely drops any truly resonant, philosophically thoughtful lines, save that opening hook, his consistently outrageous rapping style and minimalistic professional production has easy replay value, albeit he’s toned down his trademark squealing and tone changes just a bit. His hubris is powerful, from throwing sly shots at his former idol, Lil Wayne, with the bar “Pussy boy, I leave you dead and call it dedication,” on “Can’t Tell” possibly aimed at Weezy’s Dedication mixtape series, to embracing the frequent mean-spirited questioning of his sexuality with “Every time I dress myself, it go motherfucking viral” on “Halftime”. But these fun lines can be a little too few-and-far-between for seasoned rap fans, and he frequently falls back on crude lines referencing “farting” and “boning.”

     This is Young Thug’s most listenable project to date and its encouraging to see him capitalize on his rapid popularity growth on the internet hip-hop circuit as well as refining his genuinely novel delivery and rap style which he’s been honing for a few years in the underground. He’s polarizing and this arguably increases his palpable hit potential; he’s a captivating rapper, even when he’s lacking substance. The muted trap sounds surrounding him give him the room he needs to explore with his cracking voice. Features come from both marquee names like T.I. and Lil Boosie on “Can’t Tell” to rising personalities like Young Dolph to relative unknowns like MPA Duke and Yak Gotti, the latter of whom delivered a verse as weak as his name would suggest. And as expected, Birdman’s two appearances, although maybe obligatory, were typically boring and embarrassing. It would be better for everyone if he stuck to management. But this digital album is interesting, fun and well put together. Birdman clearly has another emergent “son” on his hands in the 23-year old Young Thug. Hopefully as he continues to perfect his unique, versatile style into the instantly recognizable energy it’s becoming, Thug will continue to induce smiles on a wide range of hip-hop fans. He’s an artiste, but I don’t think he’s realized it yet. Thus, only time will tell if he can emancipate himself from the shackles in which his own name binds him. We’ll see.

Rating: 8.1/10