On paper, Take Care looks like an album that shoots for the stars. The list of features, like Thank Me Later before it, is staggering. Occasionally, the execution itself makes for something big, and aims for something transcendent. There’s the wall-of-sound, Just Blaze epic, “Lord Knows”, where Drizzy trades verses with Rick Ross over gospel choirs. There’s a marquee duet with Rihanna, appearances from Wayne, Nicki and 3 Stacks. There’s even a Stevie Wonder harmonica solo.
And yet, despite its excess, Take Care is an album that’s impressive, even more so, for its subtlety. It’s that push and pull, between loud and quiet, familiar and experimental, bravado and vulnerability, that’s made Drake’s music so compelling to so many people so far. But now more than ever, he and right-hand man 40 have been able to wrap their ideas around a cohesive aesthetic. And it’s restraint, more than anything else, that triumphs here.
Now that a few million eyes are tracking the Odd Future collective’s every move, it seems only appropriate that a few folks not named Tyler or Frank take their turn in the spotlight. Aside from a few remixes surfacing over the last few months, Syd the Kid has been pretty quiet thus far. As introductions go though, “Cocaine” is pretty much all you could ask for. A trippy, great-looking video, a lesbian love affair, some serious hard-drug use, and a delightfully groovy piece of futurist funk. While Tyler’s been grabbing VMA’s and Frank Ocean’s been rivaling The Weeknd for the indie R&B crown, it’s become increasingly clear that the rest of the crew — Left Brain, Hodgy, and Syd in particular — are poised to do some damage in their own right. The Internet, Syd and Matt Martian’s collective moniker, is scheduled to drop Purple Naked Ladies this December.
If you told me a few months ago that screwed up, molasses-paced Houston hip-hop à la 2005 would be a primary inspiration for the hip-hop world’s next phenom, I might not have believed you. But sure enough here’s A$AP Rocky, the self-appointed ambassador of trillwave, a hybrid blend of syrupy hip-hop, that pairs chopped and screwed vocals with spacey stoner futurism. As an aesthetic, it’s a little limited. Another way of saying that though, is that it’s distinct.
From his introduction with “Purple Swag” to the designer fits, to the grills, A$AP’s rapid ascent, from internet sensation to label darling and $3 million man, has been an exercise in creating a specific look and a specific feel. Even if the individual pieces are familiar, it’s the juxtaposition of those elements — Houston trill, gritty Harlem swag, psychedelic synth — that makes LiveLoveA$AP impressive in its own right, and seriously listenable as a project.
Why I haven’t taken the time out to write a full-length piece about Das Racist over the past two years is kind of beyond me. I’m not even sure what to chalk it up to. All I know is that when I first saw the clip for “Rainbow in the Dark”, I was blown away. The self-implicating jokes on hipsterdom, the hip-hop-historical allusions, the barrage of left-field pop culture references. Not to mention Kool AD chillin on top of a speaker, popping champagne in the nude. Watching any of their visuals, it became clear that they were bringing something different to the table.
Then there was the intellectual feud with New Yorker critic Sasha Frere-Jones, who controversially declared the death of hip-hop, to which Das Racist responded eloquently, effectively gutting the article, and adding a few haikus for good measure. After that whole debacle, a lot of us gleaned that behind all the goofy shit, lurked two particularly well-informed Wesleyan graduates who were putting a lot of thought into what they were doing. Or at the very least, two guys who could intellectually contextualize their work, no matter how ridiculous it was. Their music is almost pretentiously unpretentious, as if the “you don’t get it” factor could go out the window, since there might not be anything to “get”. For music journalists and fans, the joke’s on us most of the time.
The year was 1997 and the Gap was in need of a spokesperson for their “easy fit” jeans. Soliciting the rapping prowess of one LL Cool J, Gap executives commissioned LL to perform a 30 second freestyle for their nationwide television commercial. But little did they know, LL had ulterior motives.
Rocking a light blue Fubu cap in the commercial, executives foolishly disregarded the LL’s subtle clothing item, allowing him to visually promote the urban brand within the television spot. Initially referencing the easy fit jeans within the first few bars of the freestyle, LL continued on, “G,A,P gritty ready to go. For us, by us, on the low…”
“For us, by us, on the low”? The significance of the phrase is undeniable. What transpired was one of Gap’s biggest marketing blunders, and subsequently FUBU’s introduction to the world. It took Gap executives a while to understand exactly what LL had pulled off, but once they did they were furious. Plugging the FUBU brand on Gap’s dime, LL managed to introduce FUBU to a national audience, telling that same audience to buy it “on the low.” The following year FUBU earned upwards of $350 million.
First impressions are pretty important. And given that Azealia Banks, in what’s likely to be her introduction to the vast majority of the folks that see it, comes out swinging, guns blazing, this one could be polarizing. It’s hard to know what to start with — The propulsive, dancehall-raver hybrid thump, the fact that she drops “cunt” a good ten or fifteen times, the elastic voice.
The Nicki comparisons are probably inevitable, and the parallels are there — the performance swag, the fluctuating accents, the bars, the aggressive raunch. But right around the 1:50 mark, the energy of “212″ breaks with convention in a way that recalls a handful of other notable female performers in equal measure, say, Kelis, Santi or even Karen O. If I’m hyping, I’m hyping. But at twenty, Azealia seems poised to become our next big topic of discussion. And as introductions go, this one definitely makes its impression felt.
There’s a pretty incredible sense of emotional honesty on Erykah Badu’s last album. I guess the nudity of last year’s “Window Seat” video was a metaphor for that, in a way. That she’s still putting out video projects based on an album that’s more than a year and a half old is telling. New Amerykah Part Two was the kind of album that’s worth considering, and exploring in careful detail. “Out My Mind”, the album’s closer is a perfect example too. Weighing in at just over ten minutes, and complimented by three distinct musical “movements”, it’s quintessential Badu. One moment she’s a lovesick little girl, obsessing about newfound love. The next, she’s snapped back into full-on goddess mode, “searching for the Holy Ghost”. As is the case with most of the visuals we’ve seen lately from Erykah, the first two movements of “Out My Mind” say a lot, by doing just a little. Hit play to see what I mean, and MORE to see part two.
I think it was somewhere between one or two in the morning when he grabbed the mic. “This songs sounding extra live,” I thought, turning towards the stage. As I looked up I saw Murph standing before the dance floor, and for a second I realized that this moment was really happening. It was all coming together so nicely.
The opening track off Young Murph’s recent mixtape entitled Murph’s Labryinth, “Murphy Pan” is another slap in Nic Nac’s growing list of bangers. An infectious hook that serves as a sign of the times, “Murphy Pan” features Big Steve and Murph taking turns relating what it means to live for the moment. With additional features from the formidable Do Proper to Campa and The Six, Murph’s Labryinth is a team effort that is sure to enhance your next party.
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Sometimes, all it takes is one joint to make you realize just how hard you’ve been sleeping. It’s not that I hadn’t heard things I liked from Kendrick, and it’s not like I wasn’t aware of the ever-expanding base of co-signs, which a few days ago reached a pretty unheard of milestone. But “ADHD” is something special, and it caught my ear in a major way. Songs about rampant drug use come around often these days, but it’s hard to remember a song as effective at both conveying, and subtly commenting on a popular sentiment of our generation as this one.
Cudi’s lonely stoner theme songs, or touches of Drizzy, The Weeknd or Frank Ocean come to mind, but like some of their most captivating meditations on twenty-something rockstar life, the picture Lamar paints is a deceptively complex one, even as it revolves around a consistent motif of various methods of getting fucked up. Even if “ADHD” functions, as do plenty of our generation’s favorites, as an anthem for debauchery, it’s anything but typical. Section 80 is out now, and I really can’t recommend it enough.
It’s hard to know how to frame a record like Watch the Throne. Set against the backdrop of Top 40 hip-hop, increasingly defined by the hegemonic dominance of a small group of rappers, and the long-outdated single-centric album campaign formula, it’s startingly adventurous and experimental. Taken as the latest chapter in either of Jay’s or Kanye’s formidable catalog, it feels pretty uneven and disjointed, though occasionally thrilling.
Putting aside context, it’s a jumble of ideas, some brilliant and others not quite as well fleshed-out. But to consider a project like Watch the Throne, as somehow independent from its creators, is to ignore exactly what makes it work. What it lacks in cohesion, it makes up for with sheer grandiosity and personality– the kind only these two are really capable of bringing to the table. If at times it feels unnecessarily gaudy or inarticulate, it’s at least unified by a ridiculous amount of starpower.
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By now, I feel like most of us are coming to appreciate Watch The Throne for what it is. Two artists, arguably at the top of their industry, coming together to make music. Is it classic? I suppose only time will tell. Although when you’re walking down the street and you hear “H.A.M.” and “No Church” coming out of two different cars in the same three block radius, it’s hard deny the influence these two artists have. Last night the duo dropped visuals for “Otis”, much to the delight of bloggers and hip hop fans worldwide. Jovial in essence, it seems like Jay and Yeezy aren’t worried about too much these days. And that’s the way it should be.
If Drake really “hates singles” as he expressed a few weeks ago, he’s pretty good at churning them out. Though “Headlines” isn’t exactly your typical, industry-standard single. More than that, it’s one side of Drake’s musical and lyrical identity magnified and distilled. Triumphant, self-congratulatory and yet somehow reflective and even introspective. “I think I’m too strung out on compliments, overdosed on confidence” he tells us, before telling us “I had someone tell me I fell off, ooh I needed that”.
If “Headlines” basically functions as a forum for shit-talking, a few lines suggest that he has the wisdom not to buy into his own hype blindly. Once again, this is Drake doing what few other megastars not named Kanye are capable of: making unfathomable fame feel human.
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It’s pretty cool how inspiration works. It’s like it knows no boundaries. Inspiration can transcend time, age, race and reach you at any given moment. Inspired by Frank Ocean’s summertime ballad Love Crimes, writer and fashion blogger Neijah Williams received the vision for this short work. The debut film by Neijah, Love Crimes functions as a style piece, while also relating a story of love and scorn. Produced by Joseph Poakwa, and featuring Camila Marie and Michael Coleman amongst others, Love Crimes offers a unique perspective on how far one will go to mend a broken heart.
This one’s been a long time coming, I know. My apologies to Cunningham, and anybody else who’s been waiting. It’s not that there’s been any shortage of dope shit dropping lately — Theophilus London’s full-length debut, and quality projects from Washed Out, Little Dragon, Dom Kennedy and Beyonce to name a few. August tends to sneak up on you with the realization that summer actually ends, and once again today, it hit me. Still, fleeting though it may be, every summer deserves a soundtrack. So here’s a taste of ours.
If you were to tell me Hov and Ye were about to go in over a loop of Otis Redding’s “Try A Little Tenderness”, you wouldn’t have too much convincing left to do. With the highly anticipated Watch the Throne a few weeks away, the first real leak emerged last night, basically consisting of an extended exchange of bars between the two legends, set to a minimal backdrop that leans pretty heavily on the song’s even-more-legendary namesake. For all the hype — gaudy cover art, the over-the-top ridiculousness of H.A.M. — the chest-thumping is probably warranted. Even if the album was just an excuse for these two to talk shit, it’s hard to imagine two people more suited to the task.
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