Vintage Review: No Ceilings

 

Score: 4.5/5 (Hall Of Fame Mixtape) | Released: October 31st, 2009

Written By: G.N. Jones

I think it’s fair to say that there’s very few singular superstars in hip-hop music that have had as many stylistic incarnations as Lil Wayne. Most artists make these Frankenstein versions of themselves, stitching new styles upon older styles and creating new life. For Wayne, we’ve seen drastic mutations that all but abandon what’s come before, like an alien insect’s metamorphosis. From his being nurtured in the Hot Boyz, to learning from his contemporaries on the East Coast, he honed distinct styles; mastered delivery, mic presence, and effortlessly constructed flows and lurid metaphors. Then, after emerging victorious from a tsunami of leaks and accumulating a laundry list of commercial and critical accolades from Tha Carter III, Lil Wayne was left in a turbulent place. From ‘07 to his eventual incarceration in 2010 he had battled legal issues, and his third Dedication mixtape was really more of a Young Money compilation tape than a Lil Wayne mixtape. At that point in time Wayne seemed to be trading his “Best Rapper Alive” hat in favor of his “Young Money General” hat. In hindsight, listening to a Young Money song was like watching Dragonball Z; the side characters were there to stall in time so the main characters could save them, and by extension us. Gudda Gudda was a rap Yamcha, but it was exciting to see someone in their grocery bag at the time. YMCMB was in this weird space where they were hipster rappers for relatively normal people. Other collectives around that time had rigid, defined aesthetics but Young Money wasn’t as skater oriented and rebellious as OFWGKTA, or as gritty and stylized as an A$AP Mob. They weren’t region specific, and unlike say, MMG, they had a look the average person could emulate. YMCMB was perfect for the average kid. You could hear it in the music. Drake’s So Far Gone was relatable, vulnerable, and tugged on teenage heartstrings and Nicki Minaj had rightfully assumed the title of Queen of Hip Hop with Beam Me Up Scotty earlier in 2009. YMCMB had already started to impact music in huge ways, despite their top heavy roster. And so, amid leaks earlier that month, on Halloween of all days, a new Weezy emerged from his UFO not just stylistically, but aesthetically. No Ceilings was the harbinger of his newest change.

        Some things were the same. Wayne was still abducting beats and leaving them marked with his own quirky crop circles. At 13, you couldn’t tell me “Swag Surf” wasn’t a Lil Wayne song with a cover by some other guys. Wayne’s moderately complicated relationship with New York was still in the honeymoon phase (“Banned From TV” and “Throw It It”) while his relationship with Jay-Z, which was similarly knotted but mostly based on admiration, continued with “DOA” and “Run This Town.” My favorite Weezy-ism, the intentionally mispronounced word, is also present and accounted for. As a carry over from Da Drought 3 days, there’s the weird pop radio cover. This time around seeing Gnarls Barkley succeeded by the Black Eyed Peas. At the same time, so much was different, which is a positive and sometimes a bit of a snag. Despite acknowledging the idea of “The Death Of Autotune” by covering his idol's latest single, the autotune stylings dating back to The Dedication 3 are intact. Wayne’s “DOA” is actually a great microcosm for his approach to rhyming across the tape. The schemes and punchlines are a bit more simple and less outlandish than say Da Drought 3, but you can hear how much fun Wayne is having. Da Drought 3 is debatably his best rapping and on that mixtape he comes off as a master magician in charge of a captivated audience.

        I maintain the belief that in that ‘06-’08 Lil Wayne was probably the most natural rapper ever in how casually he could transition from flows, his delivery, his mic presence, personality; he could do anything. No Ceilings is a man who has has everything, whose time is ticking, but just decides “fuck it.” And it works so well. He name drops the coroner of New Orleans on “Run This Town” and on “Wasted” he refers to a little league on an island off the coast of Venezuela (apparently they’re really good): "If we gon' do it, dog, let's do it now/I—I—I am more animal than the zoo allow/Put me in the wild, I’ll be there for a while/You niggas Little League, call 'em Curaçao.” "Wasted" is actually chock full of fun sports references to Usain Bolt, Jalen Rose, and the NOLA Super-Dome. On “DOA” he ditches the connective tissue and gives us a live look at him constructing insanity with lines like  “Ugh, Fiji water, grandaddy purp/Excuse me, I let the semi-automatic burp,” and “Ugh, I'm about to go walnuts/We get seven-digit money, you could call us/Hit 'em with the chopper, watch 'em ball up/Paint your face red, you all dolled up.” Meanwhile in each verse he has these recurring themes for the start of new ideas that are disparate. The first one is set off with Fiji water and a new strain of weed, and the second is what kind of nuts he’s about to go. It’s the difference between early and Cubist Picasso. Simultaneously, his voice is higher, creakier, and raspier, stretching like putty into weird melodies and chopier flow patterns. He’s a martian after all, but he’s right at home on the beats, no phone necessary. 

My favorite performance is “Run This Town”, which puts the original to shame aside from the amazing Kanye feature. From letter wordplay to open the song to couplets like “You softer than ny-lin; oops, I meant "nylon"/Perfection is the goal, and I’m headed to the pylon/Crown fit me good, I ain’t even got to try on/The pistol mean business—that bitch should have a tie on”. There’s a sense of urgency that builds up and explodes by the end of the track. “Run This Town” is also true to the Young Money General’s story at the time with a long shout out of the entire YM roster. Even while having fun and coloring outside the lines, Wayne is doing his best to set his army up for success in the wake of his exile, and in some ways acknowledging his own journey there. The song ends with an almost retrospective view and a few ideas going forward. “I’m the prodigy—do you roger me?/I look in the flames and see a hotter me/But how come I’m still colder than common-ly?/Yeah, we run this town, like a lot of feet/Young Mula, baby; I'm proud of me.” The goal of YM’s success and the prospect of prison hang over his head for the beginning of the remixed smash Waka Flocka Flame hit “O Let’s Do It,” but by the end it seems like he’s talking to himself about the latter: “Weezy F, the "F" is for "Fuck what you’re going through"/Make your people mourn you.” It seems that in giving the people a new Weezy fully committed to a new style, they can mourn an old version or love the music and mourn his absence as he does his bid. Either way, the old Wayne was gone, and he knew it before even we did.

        The New Wayne-1000 Model had its own issues. Not all of the bars landed. “I'm the hardest shit, go in your ass and search,” “Oh, she a good girl? I got her transforming/She give me hot head, I call it "global warming” and “Looking for a bad bitch, I give her dinosaur dick” look and sound worse than they are because they’re all standalones. The idea being presented is no longer part of a larger theme; now it’s a big blot in the painting. The jokes about the poop obsessed, pussy devouring Gremlin was a phenomenon that came from this tape, along with the limits of punchline style raps all together. We can only take so much “Young Money, we the shit like weak stomachs,” and commands to the listener to dig in their asses. This is also the point where you start to realize just how much influence Drake had on Wayne. The master was learning from the student, down to the little stutter adlibs and stretching the end of lines into a melody. It’s hard to put into words, but “Wayne On Me” and “I’m Single” are 2009 Drake songs with a cosmic twist. To this day I can’t figure out if Drake was mistakenly credited on “I’m Single” or if he actually just gave Wayne the song. The synthesis of the Wanye-O-Morph was starting to become less seamless. We also have to tolerate him dragging some of his YM protégés across the finish line on these songs. Gudda Gudda’s verse on Break Up is so bad you can’t help but laugh; he drops stinker after stinker with lines like “Your bitch under my sheets, I heard she was an undercover ho (Ha)” and “I do her something rude, I pop her like balloons” which actually predates *that* Ludacris bar. It feels like a parent participating in a father-daughter dance when Wayne starts off his verse on “That’s All I Have” saying he doesn’t even like the beat. The things you do for your kids right?

        Despite its flaws, No Ceilings is arguably his most influential incarnation when you look at modern music. Wayne is a rapper whose canon is incomplete without considering the impact of his mixtapes. A botched streaming release can’t give you the scope of a tape like No Ceilings. The Robb Bank$, Tony Shnnows and early Young Thugs of the world wouldn’t exist if the previous version of Wayne was the last one. Young Thug, from 2015-2019 for example, took the No Ceilings mantra to heart, throwing all the rules out the window to mostly great effect. The difference between their journeys is that Wayne was at his core carried a traditionalist approach, following the “you have to learn the rules before you can break them,” doctrine. In doing so, he gave other artists, big or small, a blueprint and a mantra to do whatever they wanted. But he didn’t know that at the time. In 2009 Lil Wayne just knew that despite a prison bid on the horizon, he had a stable of promising young artists, and he was having fun. His freewheeling ethos led to a misguided rock album. He would start getting into skating shortly after No Ceilings, a move that was heavily criticized for whatever reason. They called him a poser, called him too old. It didn’t matter. In the outro skit he reminds us how much fun he’s having and answers all the “whys”. Because he’s Weezy, he’s different. The sky was the limit. And he had no ceilings.

Best Song: “Run This Town”

Best Beat: “Throw It In The Bag”

Best Moments: “Swagger just dumb; call me Sarah Palin” made me laugh out loud on an airplane / The Devin The Dude stray was crazy / “Banned From TV” existing

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Vintage Review: People's Instinctive Travels And The Paths Of Rhythm

 

Score: 5/5 (Hall Of Fame Album) | Released: April 10th, 1990

Written By: Anthony Seaman   

     Q-Tip was always a sleeping giant. Childhood days spent digging through his family's jazz heavy record collection, afternoons making pause tapes, and long nights at block parties infected his mind with sonics. Jungle Brothers gave him his first swing on the mic in a major way. Peering over the shoulders of Prince Paul and De La Soul as they created the universe melting 3 Feet High And Rising he saw the outlandish beauty that could come from friendship and left field samples. These three groups along with Queen Latifah, Black Sheep, Monie Love, and Chi-Ali made up Native Tongues, an incubator of afrocentricity and alternative hip-hop styles on and off record. They leaned into being side characters within each other's classic albums, gifting hooks, ad-libs or short pop ins that would make your eyes go wider than if they had a full credited verse. People’s Instinctive Travels And The Paths Of Rhythm, the debut album from Tribe proved that the crew could do more than just be weird for weird's sake; there was hits to be made. De La and Latifah had their own commercial success, but those times were blips in a career built off experimentation or laser focus on breaking glass ceilings more so than crafting perfect songs. While it was truly a village at work each album (Ali Shaheed Muhamed, Phife Dawg and Jarobi, and later engineer Bob Power, all carrying their weight in their own ways as the crew pushed forward through the 90’s) Q-Tip for the first LP was the Chief. People’s Instinctive was as much his baby as any solo rapper's first LP was. Those teenage pause tapes were shined up within Calliope Studios to become the backbone instrumentals to the project. Today we remember Tribe as Phife and Q running the perfect two man vocal operation on their 2nd and 3rd projects; Phife was an everyman looking to chat up girls and watch whatever the game of the night was while Tip was earning his nickname “The Abstract” with every bar. But the Jarobi led interludes had about as much air time as Phife Dawg's verses on their inaugural adventure. Q-Tip carried the load on every front, and succeeded like it was the plan all along.

        Before People’s Instinctive was released the biggest albums of the last year had been It’s A Big Daddy Thing, Road To Riches, No One Can Do It Better, Unfinished Business, and the much maligned but commercial smashes Walking With A Panther and Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em. Each project was full of crossover appeal, hyper aggressive delivery, or streetwise concepts and aesthetics in some combination. The Beastie Boys, De La and Biz Markie all were misfits creating at the same time, providing looser records where caricatures of themselves worked within near psychedelic musical confines. Brand Nubian, X-Clan and Public Enemy along with the slow puttering of Boogie Down Productions were still in the realm of political focus and afro-centrcity like Tribe but moved with a militancy that left no room for individual freedom. Everyone sounded like they were on acid, selling something stronger or just plain selling out. A Tribe Called Quest came together to carry the torch of their Native Tongues family, more mellow than Black Sheep, more concise than De La, more playful than Latifah. Those components weren't full melted down into something new all together until Midnight Marauders, but the flashes of it on their debut were dazzling. Tossing the “in your face” stylings of Big Daddy Kane and the Beasties for the mellow leanings of EPMD and Rakim, Q-Tip made being purely intelligent sound cool for the first time. Rakim, KRS, and Kool Moe Dee were as smart as they came, but all provided an edge that read “yeah i’m smart, and if you don’t think so these hands do more than open books”. What they held was the respect of an elder. Tip didn’t have that, rather he was the cool older brother. His signature nasally tone and slight frame put no fear into the hearts of others, but his words garnered interest on their own. In the album and group titles the Tribe made it clear that traveling through life was enough of an inspiration, and on these travels stories and life lessons came in all ways. 

        Mentions of 3rd eyes, afrocentric concepts, and safe sex brought lessons to young fans that didn’t sound like lectures. Where their forfathers drilled lessons into the heads of listeners, it came up like a late night dorm room chat with Tip. His natural charisma proved that it’s better to make someone want to do something rather than make it seem like the only option. Everything sounded cooler when Q-Tip pushed it. “Ham ‘N Eggs” is a goofy jam session about healthy dieting that did more for teenage cholesterol levels than the invention of the Food Pyramid. Chuck D himself sounded scarier at the time than any singular pubic lice, allowing “Public Enemy'' the song instead to become the infectious precautionary tale about STD’s in the time of a rising HIV/AIDS epidemic. As a pure rapper the tricks that Kane and Kool G Rap used to earn the titles of best living MC’s were treated as unneeded options. Today we see Sir Michael Rocks, Curren$y and Roc Marciano as kings of cool, making their daily routines seem unattainable even if all they did was smoke weed and buy some shoes. In this era EPMD had that style on lock, but had as much personality as the zippers on their tracksuits. Youthful ignorance tinged Phife and Tips voices, letting simple descriptions of a Frenchman (“Luck Of Lucien”) or the story of misplacing a wallet (“I Left My Wallet In El Segundo”) run like Harold and Kumar films. Everything was going to be OK in the end, but you couldn’t help but be surprised at the detailed turns along the way. 

     Jazz records from Grover Washington Jr. and Lonnie Smith became hip-hop staples thanks to this record. Each of these jazz giants gained new notoriety as the nerds clamored to the liner notes looking to find where these sounds came from. Generations of producers looked up to Tip and Ali as Gods for their odd metered loops and layerings. Pharrell, Questlove and J Dilla saw jazzy chords and basslines become incorporated into the hip-hop vocabulary as heavily as James Brown style funk horns or Led Zeppelin's bluesy rock drums. DJ Premier, Large Professor and Pete Rock had dipped their toe into these crates, but never gave it the space to breathe quite like ATCQ had. Everything was slower, the drums weren’t as rushed into one another. Each signature rhythm is as much about the space they didn't fill as the time they did. “Rhythm (Devoted To The Art Of Moving Butts)” had a tin snare, tuned up human yells, blank space and futuristic chords as the framework, while “Can I Kick It?” was Lou Reed baseline and scratches were accented with odd tones that seem like they existed only in the depths of the ocean. “Youthful Expression” was the closest thing to the sounds of their contemporaries, and Q-Tip was still nestled into his nonchalant core between organ stabs and uppity drums. Then there’s “Bonita Applebum”. Fusing RAMP, Rotary Connection and Cannonball Adderly into a perfect stew of transcendent sound. It was sweet talking at a party done right; full of blush worthy compliments, awkward one-liners, and an admirable coolness that works every time.

        Over 30 years after the critical praise and cultural influence have run their course becoming mainstays into the fabric of modern entertainment instead of fresh novelties, A Tribe Called Quest still stands as right of passage listening for undergrads and newly minted hip-hop heads alike. Kids rapping about very un-kiddish things in goofy kid-like ways is a blueprint that the Native Tongues patented for rap. The quartet leaned into itself as a unit more going forward, with Q-Tip still acting as head honcho but Ali and Phife grew into their powers in such a way they had to become more visible voices. Low End Theory and Midnight Marauders will probably be argued about until the end of time as to which is better (spoiler, the answer is Low End) but both never depart fully from their predecessor. Each is flanked with whimsy, centered on neck snapping rhythms, and the purpose of progression through life with new enlightenment everyday.

Best Song: "Bonita Applebum"

Best Beat: "After Hours"

Best Moments: Q-Tip teaching everyone that "prophylactic" is a word / The frogs on "After Hours" / The first Jarobi skit after "Push It Along" / Whatever THAT sound is on "Bonita Applebum", you know the one / The "Can I Kick It?" bassline / Verse 1 of "Footprints

Modern Review: The House Is Burning

Score: 4/5 | Released: July 30th, 2021

Written By: Anthony Seaman     

   5 long years, endless IG live snippets, sparse features and a whole lot of hiding lead most fans of Isaiah Rashad to assume he had just given up. Had he already said everything he needed to say? Were the addictions and mental health struggles that inspired nearly his whole body of work taking too heavy a toll? After going broke thanks to, in his own words, “really expensive sandwiches”, along with rehab stints and medical issues he finally fulfilled a promise years in the making; something new. The House Is Burning is the side-swiping child of these years away, breaking the mold of music made to drive alone talking to the universe for clarity into something worth inviting everyone you know to party in the car with you. It's not that everything is OK and the pains of life have subsided, but the choice to be happy and remind yourself of the things worth living for have been made.

        For the first time in his career, the self loathing and depression are nearly out of sight, giving room for the inner child to play over the best beats of his career. Every single song knocks the wind into your sails. “Lay Wit Ya” is a Memphis style mosh pit starter, “Score” is a thumping pseudo-soul record with signature Kenny Beats low end, and the kicks on “RIP Young” leave more dents in your chest than a golf ball. Even the less raucous closers “THIB” and “HB2U” have a head swinging soul at their core. Producer Kal Banx and Devin Malik take up most of the production credits, making even the dips into new sonic ground sound like branches of the same tree. Jay Rock, Doechii and SZA steal the show when featured, reminding the world of the TDE Supremacy that has hung over the music world despite extended breaks being the norm. YGTUT (fka Tut, of Preacher’s Son fame) has a short appearance on the Pimp C referencing “Chad”, harkening back to their days together in the Tennessee collective TheHouse (a group featuring the duo along with Michael Da Vinci, Brian Brown, Park Ave, D. Sanders, Shoey, and Chris P).

        As a writer a subtle weapon turned signature is Rashad’s quest to be the new king of word choice. Where other rappers would grab the easiest word to end bars with, he’s digging into 4th and 5th options in the thesaurus. Unorthodox writing styles have replaced the bleeding diary verses that lined his first two projects, becoming something closer to a Chattanooga-bred Ghostface Killah than a youthful reincarnation of Scarface. Being straightforward has become a novelty, mixing and matching meaningful barbs with fun one off bars that could mean everything and nothing to the record. Lines like “I’m a Gucci Mane / you a Captain Kirk” and “I told her / bitch eat it like Doja Cat” are references so niche only he and his group chat may truly know what the joke is. Not only in specific lines but in concepts does Rashad lean into looseness. “All Herb” has a sense of poetic mystery to it, alluding to the futility of life and long lost love. The refreshing mist that floats through “Claymore” and “All Herb” solidifies into smoke on the existential “HB2U”, where the phrase “you are now a human being” stamps itself into your brain like a cult chant. What were once raw stories delivered with visceral emotions have evolved into shifting puzzles, just when you think things slide together perfectly you notice something else just slightly out of place. It's to be commended how each song is lean, all the frills present serve a purpose, yet they're still a half step off from perfect into something more mischievous.

        Cilvia Demo was facing and assessing young trauma, The Sun’s Tirade was dark room coping, and now The House Is Burning breathes like a man finally feeling the sun hit his face again. Time in the dark has made an appreciation of the light come full force, one of raps many hermits made a perfect summertime album. Even in the music videos you see Isaiah as the main character zooming around down in a customized Jeep or at the center of a Van Wilder level pool party. Not breaking any new ground, but being young is super fucking depressing. A common thread with Zay and many of his peers is fighting through that early 20’s stage where the weight of the world is constantly breaking your back. You can blame more emotionally literate parents and teachers, the internet or the ires of late stage capitalism, but it takes living life to realize life is rough, but powering through builds a tolerance to pain. This tolerance makes creating an album that’s light enough to rock everyday a reality. Even if repeat listens shows fragments of that darker self still rearing its head. Some would say that’s life, a lot of good days sprinkled with pain that you can’t let warp you back to the worst times. Fresh starts come every morning, and once the world has burned around you, sifting through what’s left and building a new safer space is as empowering as life gets.

Best Song: "Headshots (4r Da Locals)"

Best Beat: "Chad"

Best Moments: Isaiah’s 2nd verse on “From The Garden” / SZA floating down from Heaven on “Score” / First verse on “HB2U” / Zay berating Kal Banx on the “Hey Mista” intro / Doechii on “Wat U Sed”

The Foundations: T.I.

 The Foundations; an ongoing series highlighting legendary artists of the past with short breakdowns of their career and importance to contemporary hip-hop

Active: 1996-Present

Representing: Atlanta, Georgia

For Fans Of: Jay-Z, Bun B, Rick Ross, Meek Mill, A$AP Rocky, Lil Baby

        The connective tissue between the barren Dirty South of the 90’s and the intergalactic trap of the late-00's is very barren. While influenced by the same things that lead to creation of rap icons like Gucci and Jeezy (Project Pat, Cash Money Records, Master P, etc) T.I. in his musical choices borrowed more from Texas pioneers UGK and Memphis' 8Ball & MJG. Across his debut album I’m Serious you hear him imitate Scarface, Juvenile and Big Boi to near flawless execution. T.I. was a young knucklehead with multiple felony charges before he could legally buy blunts, mixed up in physical altercations, weapons charges and drug cases. Much like all Southern hustlers though he was a slick talker, smarter than his oversized tee would allow you to believe, and had a passion for sweet talking women as much as he did making money. He was Big Boi if he never met Dre, Scarface without the melancholy, 8Ball & MJG combined into a singular teen. He along with Gucci Mane solidified Cool Breeze’s invention of “trap music”, a subgenre of a country persuasion that turned the ups and downs of drug dealing into a blue collar job worth musing about. Whether it was blaring horns, lightspeed hi hats, bass that would knock your hat back straight or the sample free one shots and keys guiding the way, the beats were a digital evolution of the live instrumentation Outkast and UGK made a name off of. He rapped like talked, what he said didn’t matter as much as how he said it. With a textbook red clay road drawl sweeter than syrup he could break down his issues with other rappers, pull girls and remind you how street he was better than anyone without many frills. 

           After his debut flopped sales wise, Trap Muzik and Urban Legend were record breaking hits. “24’s”, “Bring Em Out” and “Rubberband Man”, “U Don’t Know Me”  were smashes. He had ironed out his character as the pretty boy dope pusher that everyone knew and loved. During this time he went on a mixtape tear with his group P$C and solo with DJ Drama helping set the foundation for the Gangsta Grillz empire. Drama would release albums with T.I.’s label Grand Hustle, a joint venture with Atlantic, the label that also later helped introduce the world to Travi$ Scott, B.o.B., Young Dro, Iggy Azalea, Spodee, and Doe B. Back to back albums that were breakout hits that solidified him as a real player in the game, and allowed his King Of The South claims to hold real merit. At this time Wayne & T.I. were both superstars, both from the South, both southern in every way. T.I. was taking the throne from Scarface by force, and while Wayne was becoming an accidental pop star, unfocused on just the Southern delegation. All of this was much to the chagrin of Lil Flip, a Texas rapper who was relentless in attacking T.I. for his claims. Flip was trying to make a name off dissing the King in waiting, only to be buried and remembered as a jester who never saw his own potential come through. T.I. would also fight off in his career Shawty Lo, Ludacris, Rick Ross (sort of) and live through tensions with Gucci Mane over who the true originator of trap music really was, and who the King Of Atlanta was (which during most of T.I.’s reign as King Of The South, Jeezy and Gucci went back and forth holding the Atlanta heavyweight belt. Again, there’s levels to this, and only for moments would Jeezy take the Throne from T.I.). T.I.’s early career was defined by deeply Southern lead singles that would run the streets and the radio equally, a fat free tracklist on each album, and a balance of charisma and street cred that was untouchable. This all came together on his magnum opus King, a record still full of hatred towards Flip, but equally fueled by “What You Know” a DJ Toomp production that destroys subwoofers to this day. The production and concepts were varied, the features fit in neatly to T.I.s slick talk. The album spawned him starring in ATL, one of the great coming of age movies of its time (and the single best roller skating movie in existence). He helped convince Creeds lead singer Scott Stapp to not commit suicide at a Miami hotel. 2006 as a whole was the peak of T.I. 

     In the years post-KING his career would take a dark turn personally. Multiple prison sentences, the most well known coming the afternoon before the ‘07 BET Awards in Atlanta. He was caught attempting to buy unregistered guns and silencers from his bodyguard who had turned state. In the raid of his home he was found with 8 unregistered guns of multiple types, silencers, and an arsenal of ammo. While on house arrest before his formal sentencing T.I. would record Paper Trail, a commercial juggernaut centered around pop rap crossover records. “Dead And Gone”, “Live Your Life”, “Whatever You Like” were inescapable. The want to avoid content centered around the streets and instead focus on expanding his audience to keep his name alive while in jail to flip the public perception of him as a bigger menace to society than his music even showed lead to more palatable and dull music. The album as a whole is fine, too damn long, and so shallow and devoid of the things that made T.I. a star it’s hard to stomach as a lifelong fan. But it got the job done. Post-Prison T.I. is a mixed bag featuring his lowest lows (No Mercy, US Or Else) interesting moments of experimentation (Trouble Man, all the Pharrell cuts on Paperwork, helping introduce Young Thug to the mainstream on “About The Money”) and fun dips back into an ever shifting Atlanta with new mixtapes (Fuck Da City Up, Fuck A Mixtape, the GDOD compilations). 

Now an alder statesman with baggage stacking by the day (sex trafficking allegations, drugs, tax issues, forcing his daughter to have virginity tests that forced comments by the UN and World Health Organization) he flashes in from time to time on records with MC’s generations removed from when he began that see him as an OG (Big KRIT, JID, Trouble). His ear for talent was always there and now his cosign is rare and meaningful, even if his own music has been a mixed bag at best. He’ll be remembered as having a split career (side A was pure personality and a tight knit corner boy character while side B is a man achieving pop fame and trying to keep himself interested having checked off every traditional box) that was muddled by off record incidents, while also setting a blueprint for the dominant sub-genre of the next 20 years with trap music. His peak is defined by an unstoppable charisma, tight knit songwriting and a drawl that let his flow seep into the crevices of any beat in sight. Even on the backend he was constantly searching for new sounds and artists to sharpen his sword with, dipping his toe in more elderstatement-core topics like politics and family dynamics. Evolving from a brash hooligan into a socially tuned-in taxpayer makes for great personal change, but with T.I. as the messenger it falls flat more than it blazes new ground. It doesn’t take away that for flashes he was the boy king that ruled and solidified rap's newest cultural epicenter, pushing Atlanta to heights that are still being built upon to this day.

Album To Check: KIING

Best Songs: “Rubberband Man", "I'm Talkin' To You", "What You Know"

Written By: Anthony Seaman (@soflgoemstone on IG & Twitter)

Another Link To The Chain: Lord Sko

 Another Link To The Chain; an ongoing series highlighting rising hip-hop artists extending the history of the genre into the future

Representing: Washington Heights, New York City, New York

For Fans Of: YL, Fly Anakin, Joey Bada$$, Domo Genesis, Curren$y, Showbiz, CL Smooth, Big Daddy Kane

        At 18 Lord Sko has already solidified himself into a New York City lineage that is as blessed as it is confusing. The lyrical wonderkid, an archetype that dates back to Rakim, where an MC under the legal drinking age has hyper focused their talents on putting words together in ways that outshine their peer group and the overseers of the time. Joey Bada$$, Juice WRLD, Earl Sweatshirt, Wiki, Prodigy, Nas; they all fall within this same bloodline. Each of these artists hit their own road blocks; label hiccups, failed crossover attempts, crews splitting apart, substance abuse issues, and so on. His potential to be a real player in the coming years doesn’t just rely on his skill, but him utilizing it in a time where the rap ecosystem he exists in is at the cusp of a full takeover, while leaning into a skillset that matches his Dazed and Confused side character mentality. 

        Being born in New York is like hitting the geography lottery (word to Big K.R.I.T.) for any entertainer, but hip-hop artists especially. If you fall within the traditionalist standards that the city's rap scene was founded upon (sample based beats, a signature flow and a knack for witty entendres or vivid slice of life verse writing) you have a network ready to streamline you to the masses. Already having freestyles and interviews with growing and established platforms like Hot97, Top Shelf Premium, OnTheRadar, and Chinatown Sound have given him ways to shine that artists in smaller regions still don’t have equal access to. The beauty of regionalism is the different mutations of hip-hop having biomes to grow within, while New York specifically finds ways to focus fans on those that pay homage to the old guard. Experimentalists (Fatboi Sharif, AKAI SOLO and Phiiik) as well as stalwarts of the “born in the wrong generation” idea (YL, .38 Spesh and Your Old Droog) all live an Amtrak away from another within the tristate area, using Bandcamp and streaming services as a lifetime for their art. Using a newly functional NYC feeder system to survive like the aforementioned rising stars, Lord Sko falls into the latter nostalgia loving group, dawning in his videos and photos jeans that would shake Soulja Boy to his core and high quality sweaters Fat Joe and Pun would be huffing and puffing over. Not only on his sophomore album’s cover does he pay homage to Big L’s iconic Lifetylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous but the production tickles the ears as high fidelity D.I.T.C. cuts. His hair flows down to his chest in every direction even when a fitted hat lays firm above it, reminding you he’s just another kid you would have bumped into rapping in circles with his peers on the way to an entry level economics class. There’s thousands of people living like Sko, but no one else rapping quite like him anymore.

        His voice is bellowing but never overpowering, a strong putty that can stretch and stick but never lose its strength. The curse of most white rappers is an over admiration of their most popular representative Eminem, one that leads to an overuse of speed rap, childish toilet humor, and the most egregious of them all; robotic flows. Sko on the other hand leans back within tracks, flowing with records like rain runoff does on the forest floor. Charisma comes naturally, not enough to draw you to him but enough to catch your ears as you hear it play around you. Lyrically the records are never overbearing, it’s journal entries from NYC’s Jeff Spicoli. Low stakes adventures while stacking acid tabs, navigating hazy studio nights, all while shit talking about whoever he crosses fill the verses with few spoken hooks coming to tie them together. His debut album Museum, was almost exclusively lyrical exercise (produced in mass by go to collaborator Arlo Walker), but the kind where you only do curl variations. It’ll always be the first thing we notice, but it’s not as useful in everyday life as the acclaim would lead you to believe. United Palace shows an expansion into denser production (some handled by himself) honing in to a Golden Era revival sound, and creating more focused songs in the process. Tapping in with established East Coasters Da$h, Statik Selektah and Mayhem Lauren push him into conversations that he missed out on by simply being born too late. A decade since the Beast Coast movement had a short term grip on a generation of city kids, Sko is thriving as one of the lone descendants. Even now I half expect Nyck Caution or one of the Underachievers to find their way into the background of his videos. The day to day living he speaks of isn’t unique, but as drill and all it’s sub-forms become the dominant NYC sound, it becomes refreshing. Only 3 years into being a rapper there’s still high hopes Sko can make his way to the leg press and row machines more often, but for now he remains full of potential albeit unbalanced. 

Album To Check: United Palace

Best Songs: Jumpshot, Kush & OJ, Pimp Socks

Written By: Anthony Seaman (@soflogemstone on Twitter & IG)

The Foundations: Busta Rhymes

The Foundations; an ongoing series highlighting artists of the past with breakdowns of their career and their importance to contemporary hip-hop.

Active: 1990-Present

Representing: Brooklyn, New York City, New York, USA

For Fans Of: KRS-One, Twista, Sauce Walka, Denzel Curry, Joyner Lucas, Koncept Jack$on

Everything that has made Busta Rhymes one of the signature characters in the ever growing story of hip-hop are things only the eyes can fully appreciate. You read his raps off the paper, and your gut reaction is to read it in your own voice. A boring, even keeled, steady voice. And that's the difference between everyone else and Busta; you read them like the regular person who mows thier yard on the weekend and enjoys Fast & The Furious films, he reads raps off a paper and conducts lightning from his teeth. The excitement in the movies you love, he personifies it every day. Each atom between your eardrum and the speaker is ravaged into hyperspeed when he bellows words out. His breakthrough moment wasn’t him and his childhood friends from Leaders Of The New School being blessed with their names from Chuck D and the rest of Public Enemy after training under them on tours and in studios across the globe, it wasn’t standing alongside LL Cool J, Craig Mack, The Notorious B.I.G. and Rampage on “Flava In Ya Ear (Remix)”, it wasn’t even his debut album that featured a platinum single and videos that made the Technicolor era of Hollywood seem dull. It was the closing verse on “Scenario” from A Tribe Called Quest's sophomore album, following behind his L.O.N.S. brothers, Q-Tip and Phife Dawg, where he broke into patois, flipped between double time flows, and growled like a dungeon dragon. He was an acrobat juggling flamming pins, bringing more eyeballs his way than a street fight. It was clear from that moment that everyone was just regular compared to Busta. By the time his solo outing The Coming came in 1995 after months of writer's block, years of breathtaking features and the swift collapsing of Leaders Of The New School as a group, Busta was already viewed as a ripped from the comics character that would never be forgotten. 

        The next 4 albums were loosely based around the fear of the apocalypse gained not only from reading a copy of Behold A Pale Horse gifted to him by George Clinton, but also the all around paranoia of what would come in Y2K. Though this concept was most present on only his intros and outros, the fear was always lingering. Was he partying for the love, or because he never knew if he’d be able to do it again? Each of these early albums relied on the core pieces of Busta; a true showman trapped within the confines of an LP, doing his best to push the boundaries of his God given voice box copying the turmoil of the world around him. The sonics were always telling of the times; The Coming had the haze and hard hitting breaks of a grimey and smoked out East Coast Underground in the mold of Wu-Tang Clan and Redman, When Disaster Strikes… was as close as he would dare flirt with Bad Boy, the Flipmode Squad compilation The Imperial along with Extinction Level Event: The Final World Front were mashups of peak drive time radio records and the Ruff Ryders, and Anarchy was a splattering hodgepodge of spacious Dilla beats and over crowded keyboard productions. On each record he added a wrinkle to the sounds of the times and to his own tool belt. Traveling into hyperspace next to Mystikal (“Iz They Wildin’ Us & Gettin’ Rowdy Wit Us?”), slowing it down for his lover with Mariah Carey (“I Know What You Want”), and performing criminal heists with Ghostface, Raekwon and a young Roc Marciano (“The Heist”). Even the other top tier artists known for their iconoclastic vocal performances and energy pale at the range that Busta wielded. DMX couldn’t step up on electro-dance records, KRS-One didn’t fit in at clubs, Young Thug hasn’t called out to the crate diggers. 

            The post-Y2K era was a mixed bag where Busta would create the biggest hits of his career that showed an ever expanding toolkit of tricks, but felt soulless. That soul would flare up whenever he came in contact with producers from his time that shared the true hip-hop spirit. Dilla, Dr. Dre, Q-Tip, Nottz, DJ Scratch and 9th Wonder could always bring the Dungeon Dragon out of his cave if only for moments. Big Bang was the first time Busta was seen side by side with legends of the past only Dre could call upon, and for it the album was his best in years. Whether it was due to spending a life performing in them or his own personal love of burning the midnight oil in them off the clock, Busta became the old guy in the clubs even when he was shining with Dre. Less hair (the world famous dreadlocks were gone by the time Aftermath came calling), gaudy designer outfits, and forced actionary records bloated a career that once brought fun to the clubs with a childlike innocence, not with intent to get a VIP section for free. The mixtape circuit didn’t lead to record breaking rejuvenation like it had for his contemporaries (Jadakiss, Fabolous) but Surrender is still an essential listen, along with his biggest tape The Abstract And The Dragon, a collection of records with heavy Q-Tip involvement featuring remixes, redo’s and sometimes just a repackaging of album cuts was a fun reminder of how great Busta could be when he stopped pushing for Manhattan club DJ’s to spin him all night. After years dealing with personal loss, breathing issues, weight gain, and nearly losing his voice, the endless broken promises of Extinction Level Event 2 came to fruition. After nearly decades of putting the project together the massive double disc record gave thanks to every aspect of Busta’s career. A career that represents the complexities of true artistry. 

        Always pushing and searching for something bigger that can rock the souls of a listener, but soul is something Busta lacked consistently as far as content of each song. Yes he rapped about the teachings of the 5 Percent Nation, the Apocalypse, and at one point his own birth, but from verse to verse the subject matter was rarely anything other than A) i’m a better rapper than you B) i’ll kick your ass C) let’s go party. Even on “I Know What You Want”, a definitive crossover record of the early 2000’s, the moral of Busta’s rhymes don’t revolve around swooning a woman with charismatic words or personal connections, it’s just an apology for having to leave all the time and be the great Busta Rhymes instead of being a partner. It isn’t until his elder statesman run of features with Jay Rock, Rapsody and Game do you get deeper into who the MC is when the lights go off. Over 20+ years holding back so much personal experiences in exchange of being a court jester is commendable, but leaves a fan always wanting more. 

            A master of creating moments, Busta will be remembered not only as a producer's favorite subject, but by fans as an all-time feature killer, visual boundary pusher, hitmaker and boundless vocalist pushing speed and ostentatious presentation of his built in instrument to the max. High budget music videos? Thank Busta. The freedom to personify animals and creatures of fantasy in your raps? Thank Busta. The pearl clutching that has followed Young Thug, Lil Uzi Vert, Tyler The Creator and any other MC who channeled their creativity in guady fashion never made sense, when Busta Rhymes was exactly like them. He was dedicated to his craft, impactful to the community in his musical influence, and was dedicated to giving shine and being surrounded by others who worked like him. What he lacks in classic projects he makes up for by being one of many Forrest Gump like characters in hip-hop, crossing paths with foundational 80’s groups into the 20’s where more artists resemble Busta than ever before.

Album To Check: The Coming

Best Songs: “Put Your Hands Where Your Eyes Can See", 'The Genesis", "You Can't Hold The Torch"

Written By: Anthony Seaman (@soflogemstone on IG & Twitter)