Modern Review: Goodbye & Good Riddance

Score: 3.5/5 | Released: May 23rd, 2018

Written By: Anthony Seaman    

            In 2016 the mainstream rap world seemed poised for a facelift. Soundcloud 2.0's entry to the zeitgeist can be much debated. Was it "Look At Me!"? Was it "Money Longer"? Maybe it was "No Flockin'". If you want to really trace it back it could be "U Guessed It". Dozens of teen rappers, singers and hybrids of the two worlds alike flooded the marketplace. It was the harshest break between generations rap had ever experienced, a raw jolt that forced fans and artists to reevaluate the genres values as a whole. They were easy to make fun of. They spoke in text messages with the autocorrect turned off. Colored hair, poorly placed tattoos, androgynous fashion choices. So many kids woke up one morning to labels breaking down their doors with millions of dollars to burn and the responsibilities of a grown adult thrust upon them. With all the money in the world they were still teens with teen problems. While the biggest acts like Lil Uzi Vert and Lil Yachty aimed to be called anything but a rapper, Juice WRLD actually became the closest to rock stars of old. It was the typical cocktail; a lightspeed ascent up the charts, songwriting that showed immense vulnerability and a rudimentary understanding of how to handle such emotions, and a promising life ended 50 years earlier than the average human lifespan. Regardless of when the door opened, Juice's death was the moment it slamming shut.

Juice WRLD in studio 2019

            Before his passing Juice was a giant in the budding streaming world. 4 of the Top 100 most streamed songs of 2018 came from his catalog, tying Drake’s 4 entries to the list and falling right behind XXXTentacion, Ariana Grande and Post Malone’s 5 entries apiece. How did he do it so quickly? “All Girls Are The Same” broke him from obscurity, and that had only been released December of ‘17 and officially released with a label backing in April of ‘18. After one album and a bounty of unknown mixtapes and loosies, he had established a fanbase that rivaled stars 10+ years deep in their career. The fuel to such a speedy takeoff? Outside of being the muse for the most influential music video director of the decade in Cole Bennet, the music synthesized everything the next generation of consumers was looking for. Cast to the corners were the few rappers that put real pen to real paper to craft #bars, and in were vocal showmen following the path of melody before any concentrated storyline. Whatever barrier remained between rapping and singing was disintegrating. Young Thug, Travi$ Scott and Future had become one with their vocal processing software. Next came the rise of a generation raised not only under these new conditions, but with access to every sub genre of music known to man that those previously mentioned stars didn’t have fully at their fingertips until high school. The Soundcloud 2.0 generation had a path to follow and were naturals with the new tools to trek down said road. Some used busted equipment to make blown out punk rap; distorted, desolate, and destructive.

            Goodbye & Good Riddance in retrospect is the first major label excursion into emo rap, hip-hop's 20 years too late answer to pop punk. It’s painfully monotonous in subject matter, never getting more complicated than “boo hoo my girl hurt me, time to use drugs to feel better”, but that’s the whole point. Misery as an emotion bludgeons you to the edge, and when you’re young you don’t know how to cope in any healthy ways. He's not the first in rap by far to "heal" in unhealthy ways. Scarface, DMX and Prodigy masked their pain with machismo and substance abuse of their own desire. Gucci Mane and Chief Keef drowned themselves in lean to mute their own paranoia. Access to therapy or having emotionally intuitive parents isn’t a given for everyone, and Juice’s story was relatable to millions in that way. The word cloud was small, but the effectiveness was unquestionable. The disparity between him and the forced hollowness of other melodic Soundcloud rap-singers like Post Malone and Trippie Redd is still striking all these years later. More than the realities that leaked from his sing-songy raps what separated him was his one-of-one melodic instinct. Looking to be as sonically pristine as the pop stars of the moment, Juice copied what worked best; earworm melodies, inoffensive production, simple emotionally charged lyrics. There were no playlist baiting experiments into traditional hip-hop or dance music. For 15 tracks (maybe 16 or 18 or 20 depending on what version your streaming service of choice holds) you’re dropped onto the shoulder of a kid every parent is nervous that their own child will become. One who recklessly chases highs through sex and drugs, explosive with outbursts of frustration, and rarely reflective on how they may be the root of their problems after all. 

XXXTentacion & Juice Wrld

         "Used To" is a slow build from what sounds like a voice memo recording to a self destructive soliloquy on loneliness. “734” is a bonus song about someone navigating leaving a toxic partner for the first time. There’s an oscillation between wanting what is best and what is comfortable that leads to him calling for the safety of drug induced numbness to cope with the impending choice. “Hurt Me” is a love song to more solitude and drug use, because those can’t hurt him the way his ex can, right? Looming over everything is “Lucid Dreams”, the now definitive song from his short career. It’s a warbled Sting sample over thumping trap drums that today sounds ubiquitous with raps more melancholy superstars. Many moons ago at the dawn of 2018, cavernous pad sounds or twinkling piano based backdrops were the standard. Using guitars? It stuck out of the crowd before Internet Money (who Nick Mira, majority producer of this album is a founding member of) bleached the sound into a million brittle remakes creating crossover hits for every modern act listed in this article plus some (Lil Skies, Lil Tecca, Iann Dior). Run-DMC showed us the power of rock-rap crossovers in the 80’s. Limp Bizkit showed even if you did them poorly, tapping into enough angst could sell it. Now you just needed someone who understood the best parts of both rock and rap and was ernest enough to mesh them into one. Sure Post had already begun hinting at more traditional Americana sonics (“Go Flex”, “Feeling Whitney”) while Gunna was setting the bedrock of his own career off trappy guitar strums, and Lil Peep was busy looking like a rapper while only subtly incorporating it to his Warped Tour ready mixtapes. Juice hit all these artists' value propositions simultaneously. Addictively slick pop punk melodies and guitar strums checked the stereotypical rock box, while trap indebted drums and references to guns or designer clothing checked the stereotypical rap box. Add in universal issues such as heartbreak and drug addiction to appeal to everyone in between and boom, a global superstar is born. Mastering all these competing thoughts was a more nuanced dissection of songwriting than any of his peers could muster, despite him being one of the youngest in this cohort. 

            Producers who saw his process first hand now gush at his ability to do such sonic alchemy, freestyling these full formed records within a moments notice. Peers like Ski Mask The Slump God and G Herbo sing his praises as a king of his craft. Legends of old from Eminem to Lil Wayne acknowledged him as a special talent. Experiencing an overdose on a private jet in his hometown of Chicago was how Juice spent his last moments on Earth, a scenario he’d alluded to over dozens of songs. Millions of fans to this day mourn their death and wonder what could have been for an entire generation of artists. Goodbye lives on as his best fully fledge gift to the Earth, a polished ball of hormones that moody teenagers will cling to for an eternity.

Best Song: "All Girls Are The Same"
Best Beat: "I'm Still"
Best Moments: Lil Uzi's verse on "Wasted", every single hook, verse 2 on "Candles"