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"

Modern Review: My Turn (Deluxe)

Score: 3/5 | Released: February 28th, 2020

Written By: Anthony Seaman

                

            My Turn created an unfortunate myth about Lil Baby. The myth of assured greatness. At the time it seemed right; his catalog of hits alongside Gunna were stacking up, the Drake stimulus package worked like a charm (“Yes Indeed”), “Freestyle” became certified in the rap-along lexicon, all while holding the exclusive title of being a Top 3 Young Thug prodigy (at this moment Gunna and SahBabii could do no wrong, while Youngboy took up #4 while the world adjusted to his enigmatic ways). Baby’s previous major release, Harder Than Ever had a refreshing range of street records while the mixtape Street Gossip was a more ominous universe featuring heavy hitters Gucci Mane, 2 Chainz, Offset and Meek Mill forcing his lyrics to be the center of it all. It was exciting to see Atalnta diversify broad enough to mix a traditionalist in with so many boundary pushers, and with many of rap titans beginning to lose touch or grow more inconsistent, you could envision a future with him among the top stars. After successful singles, interviews, features, and music videos, My Turn became one of the few 2020 albums to get a proper rollout pre-lockdown. The Southern US as a whole was also one of the few sections of the modern world with loose enough restrictions that bars and large gatherings could go on without institutional backlash, allowing his invigorating party tracks to thrive as they were meant to. In the early period where everyone was still figuring out how long exactly we’d be living within our own confines there was less music being released and by pure lack of challengers, Baby’s trajectory hit overdrive. My Turn was 2020’s highest selling rap album and the most streamed album in the US over the calendar year. Everything had worked out in his favor. After its release the coronation of Lil Baby as the new generation's leader was all but completed. Fans adored him, peers respected him, and the potential to grow and expand his skill set seemed boundless. The most important distinction this time period gave him was also adding a notch in his belt that his rap partner Gunna did not have, a breakout studio album. Gunna’s Drip Season 3 was an immaculate mixtape that eclipsed any of Lil Baby’s solo work, while Drip Or Drown 2 (his official major label debut) was a moderate success. Gunna’s style was also more encompassing of fresh sounds thanks to the melodic nature of his delivery, opening doors into more inventive sonics. For the first time in their respective careers, Baby had lunged for the spotlight on his own, and was fully basking in its beams.

            Now, a perfectly fine collab project with Lil Durk exists and the high stakes affair that was It’s Only Me served in chart success but is in majority an album made to line digital recycle bins. Atlanta’s chosen heir fell flat. The cracks in his style in retrospect were right in front of our faces. His rapping falls more into an equivalency with one of those Fear Of God ESSENTIALS hoodies; to a casual consumer it’s a higher quality of a necessity we tend to take for granted, but at the end of the day it’s still just a pricey plain hoodie that represents nothing if not just having some more money.  What marks his greatest weakness is the Lil Baby word cloud is limited to designer brands and every phrase typed into 40oz Van’s cursed tweets. Song to song the rhymes blend together, which some would call a stylistic choice while in actuality it seems like a factory defect in his instinctual ways. The lyrics are rushed recounts of his days hustling without any drawn out soliloquy about why he’s living this life. Wear expensive watch, rap about expensive watch. Miss old girlfriend, sing about missing old girlfriend. It’s all very much in the street rap tradition; what’s understood doesn’t need to be overstated, it just is what it is at the end of the day. You just do these things to survive and it’s what you’ve seen every rapper before you has ever done and the novelty of those daily oddities is the sub-genre’s greatest asset. Regurgitating that second layer of comprehension only limits the amount of bars that could be given to something topically different and shiny. The biggest mystery of the album lies in how he was getting eaten alive by every feature. How the same guy who pushed J. Cole to the limit and outdid Drake on 2 separate occasions gets stumped by Moneybagg Yo will never cease to amaze me. 42 Dugg had his breakout moments on “Grace” and “We Paid”, “Commercial” shows him committing a fool's errand in trying to out-cool Lil Uzi Vert and Lil Wayne body bags Baby so brutally on “Forever” that him running around a year later claiming to be “the new Wayne of his generation” should have warranted legal action. Even Moneybagg Yo, a living parody of what a southern rapper is “supposed” to be, stands on equal footing with go-to producer Tay Keith providing a home game experience for the curiously rising Memphis spitter.

            In context to his own catalog My Turn is an 70-30 mixture of his two previous projects, with Street Gossip being the majority ruler. Breaking out of the dime-a-dozen Youtube beats that take up the majority of My Turn we get the orchestral hurricane of “Forever”, the jutting bop of “Sum 2 Prove”, and the eerie paranoia of the Project Pat produced “Gang Signs”, all of which have his most inspired writing.  “The Bigger Picture”, “Catch The Sun” and “Emotionally Scarred” are breakaways from the grit and grind of street life where social justice, love and emotional complexity breathe. Records like these give a perception of range, but is it an illusion? Is there still many layers to unfold within Lil Baby the artist, or has it been forever stifled underneath countless layers of foreign denims and factory grown diamonds? There’s an aversion to anything musically challenging on the tracklist for more than 2 songs at a time, forcing him to redistribute his focus from every other attribute purely into his flows. Raw instinct has always been the gasoline that fuels his artistry. Despite all the drum programming sounding similar in sound selection and even patterns, Baby instantly sniffs out the most pleasing oddball pockets to spruce up his mediocre environments. Once he or the listener is even slightly becoming distracted away by a text notification or paint drying, the angle he’s attacking the beat at is slanted to such a strange degree that only your gut would tell you works. To be just fine in so many areas while a savant in one aspect for any other rapper would leads to stale creations, and the fact each song hits just enough to keep you coming back shows how much charisma he harnesses individually. He leads the league in fun verses to rap along to. You never question if he’s fronting about his street certifications.

            2020 ended up as a year where Lil Uzi Vert was a streaming colossus, Boldy James outworked and outrapped (almost) everyone, and Lil Baby was vaulted into S-Tier superstar status despite the world burning around them all.  Within our brain fog Lil Baby's simple and addictive style allowed him to become the biggest rapper in the world. We saw someone who had built up enough trust, strike at a moment so perfect he couldn't have planned it. God herself put a GIA certified sparkle to our eyes, blinding us to the fragility of Baby as an artist. He was never the best option, he was just one of the last ones to squeeze in before the ship sailed. There’s still hope that the circumstances that allowed Baby to infiltrate such a high stature weren’t as flukey as the evidence suggests. Maybe it was going to come either way, the pandemic sped it up, and the slump that followed was going to come anyway. Maybe he is the star that peaked Young Thug’s interest and sparked a belief that he saw a natural rapper living within a gambling street legend was true all along.

Best Song: "We Paid"
Best Beat: "Forever"
Best Moments: Every 42 Dugg whistle, Lil Wayne on “Forever”, Baby having to explain to his niece that his diamonds are real on “Emotionally Scarred”, Verse 1 on “Gang Signs”, Starlito shoutout on “Get Ugly”, the back and forth hook on “We Paid”

Modern Review: TEC

Score: 3/5 | Released: September 22nd, 2023

Written By: Anthony Seaman  

 We all reach a certain age where every new artist that slides into your algorithm doesn’t immediately warrant a click like it did when you were younger and had ample time to slide down Youtube rabbit holes. Lil Tecca has existed in my pop-rap peripheral, always making songs that fit into the Internet Money type-beat sphere where rappers do an amalgamtive Nav-Travi$-Peep cosplay to appeal to the rugrats who have a big red circle on their calendar to mark the next Fornite concert. The infamous Genius video of him breaking down his lyrics and just how performative they are didn’t turn me off (as a Rick Ross fan, who am I to challenge the truth of lyrics), but rather the blandness of the raps themselves. If you’re gonna lie, go all the way out there with it. 6 years and 3 projects since “Ransom” sent him from creating music in his family home in Queens into the rap zeitgeist, the rapper-producer-label owner has finally hit drinking age, and is ready to shed the Kidz Bop Speaker Knockerz allegations for good. What may seem trivial is for the first time is him having an album cover featuring his in the flesh image instead of scenic dreamworlds where a shadowy outline with gleaming glasses acts as his avatar. In a recreated childhood bedroom you see his glory with your own eyes; platinum plaques for his We Love You Tecca series, images of him with family and cars, another plaque commemorating his Youtube success. From day one he was a hitmaker, and there's a hunger to prove that he's more than just empty stats.

Lyrically he still lives as a side character in a PG-13 coming of age comedy, spending his time parsing between heartbreak, partying, being crossed by friends and pulling women by the bunches, but the specifics of it all are starting to leak in. Less rapping in headlines of his days, and more reporting from his real POV. On “Used2Dis” he speaks on how his fame is affecting a romantic partnership, a step up from there just being issues with little reason as to why. A diversity in his flows and cadences has finally sprung as well, breaking out of the straight and steady read long flow he’s leaned on for so long, now swaying out just a tad. It’s the difference between quantizing your drums, and shaking them all slightly back by hand; a humanity is added ever so slightly to remind you real blood was pumped to make this art. The computerized projection of his natural nasal tone shines through on every hook, each one more addicting than the last. Where the project's craftsmanship comes into play is in its structure; sugar rush pop friendly hooks, slick transitions between songs, and mutating beats that never run stale. “HVN ON EARTH” and the BNYX sung hook/sample may end up being the best single record in his entire catalog, with a moderately focused Kodak verse tagged on to loop some chaos into something so strikingly sleek. Which is also the formula that makes the Life Of Pi’erre series so paramount, but everything has been compacted into a Tamagochi sized unit.

        All but two of the TEC songs cross the 3 minute mark (a lengthy 3:08 and 3:10 for each joints), and the album as a whole can be zoomed through in less than 40 minutes, compared to Bourne’s hour long trips through the catacombs of his life changing beats and torturously awful bars. More traditional trap leaning than an Eem Tripplin album but more melodically fluid than anything Nav has done, all while still invoking the playful jam sessions that come from being a bedroom superstar. It’s music to ride around solo doing errands to, a backdrop to spruce up folding Shein cargo pants, headnod music for washing the dishes. When shuffling through shelves of headlight bulbs in an AutoZone over the weekend, “500lbs” came on over the stores radio, a refreshing burst in between the DJ’s shuffle of “Turn Yo Clique Up” and “Rich Flex”. This is what Tecca is all about. Enough of a youthful jolt to the system to force you to Shazam it inside a chain store, but bleached out enough to still exist in those spaces. He can act as a gateway between the ears of casual rap fans and the gleaming blares of plugg/rage singers from the newest Soundcloud wave. He’s worked with helping propel the careers of Mr. Up Next himself SoFaygo, Babysantana, and Yung Fazo, each hyper focused youths looking to jolt an audience that still has to ask permission to hang out with their friends on weekends. For the future of everyone involved Tecca becoming more personal in his verse writing while welcoming in some of the aforementioned fresh voices to spruce up his next album could be the exact growth that can bring him from Prince of The Teens (Yachty still very much at least co-holds the King crown) into a respected pop rap heavy hitter.

Best Song: "Trippin’ On U"
Best Beat: "HVN ON EARTH"
Best Moments: The “HVN ON EARTH” hook, the “Racks” interpolation on “Salty”, the transition from “Real Discussions” into “Dead Or Alive”, the afrobeat switch up that is “Either Way”

Modern Review: Tana Talk 4

    Score: 2.5/5 | Released: March 11th, 2022

Written By: Anthony Seaman     

            Everyone in Griselda plays a role. What started off as a family business has exploded into an internationally known think tank for gravely neo-boom bap with a team that looks more like the cast of Ocean's 11 than The Town. The roster has expanded from the core trio to bring in Stove God Cook$, Boldy James, Armani Cesar, Rome Streetz, Estee Nack, Jay Worthy (sort of) and a re-welcoming of Mach-Hommy all ranging from classic cocaine cowboys to worldly auteurs to sparky loose cannons. At the labels core is an adoration of the grimy East Coast 90’s; Mobb Deep, Kool G Rap, M.O.P, Wu-Tang Clan. Eventually for this blessed time in rap and for the Griselda crew; the income grew exponentially, bringing with it a glitz and glam that made the dust of street corners seem less appealing. Jay-Z and Notorious B.I.G. most famously toed the lines of the corner and the c-suite inspiring Benny The Butcher to do the same. Tana Talk 3 was the proof that Benny could be a star, building upon the fervor caused by Butcher On Steroids and stellar features across Westside Gunn’s projects. It was hardcore to the label's principles, but showed an itch for something bigger that Gunn and Conway didn’t have. The Tana Talk series has been Benny’s underground hideout from the glossier Burden Of Proof and Plugs I Met 2 adventures, neither of which crossing into mainstream sounds quite as blatantly as say Jay’s Vol. 2, but still clear attempts to spread his wings creatively from the confines of the Griselda-verse. The push for expansion was warranted when you keep tally of what made Benny special compared to his cohorts. More personal than Conway, more potent lyricist than Gunn, better hook writer than Rome, more charismatic than Boldy, better production than Armani. Nobody in the crew then, or today, is as well rounded as Benny. Issues arise when he’s next to higher caliber stars, because what is special about Benny? It's not him being the best working drug dealer turned underground rapper (Gibbs and Pusha T have that on lock) and it's not him being some elite songwriter trapped behind dusty samples (Stove God on the otherhand....). Rooting for the underdog is what has made Benny special; the story of turning his life around after prison to run with his family to create a hip-hop enterprise is why we adore him more than any other Rich Porter obsessed rapper. With Burden Of Proof Benny tasted life outside of the shadows, seeing what the big dogs see. The film built up from nights on street corners was scrapped off, the bristled edges were sanded down, and the odyssey's into smuggling were sanitized into something more digestible with just enough of his core being in tact to separate him from the pack. On Tana Talk 4 he was coming back to the sounds that made him, but it didn't invigorate his skills. Rather he carried his watered down self into his old world, now too soft to stand up in the mean streets again.

        Across Tana Talk 4 it’s easy to slip into a state of boredom hearing the same stories again and again about making it from being a dealer, to a felon, to a rap star. Once upon a time hearing about his prison sentences and making things right with his family were untouched reflections, because they were still raw complicated feelings. The acidity of his frustrations were factory set into his delivery. In the 2 years leading to the album's release his career saw an exponential success (growing his fanbase working with Hit-Boy, Smoke DZA, and Lil Wayne) to which playing with the same fire that fueled his 2016-2018 rebirth becomes a tricky task when the first of the month is less anxiety inducing. The bite was removed from everyones favorite underdog. Despite the flourishing in his career, personal pain was still abundant after losing friend, producer and mentor DJ Shay to COVID in 2020 on top of being hospitalized on multiple occasions with asthma issues and gunshot wounds from an attempted robbery. For all the rigorous trials, the mentions of them are so surface level they’re easily washed into obscurity across the project. “Mr. Chow Hall” is an example of shallow speech, where blank spaces in his verse replace mentions of companies that paid him and his confidants, sacrificing the purity of his music to protect his own wallet. Less exciting than his subject matter is the instrumental backdrops he tells them over. “Back 2x”, “Tyson vs. Ali”, “Super Plug” and “Billy Joe” are a dime a dozen with hooks equally as uninspiring. When a high BPM kick comes on “Thowy’s Revenge” Benny sounds invigorated and fires on all cylinders in a mode he rarely gets a chance to maneuver in. “Weekend In The Perry’s” puts the cavernous dampness on the back burner for a more euphoric and watery vocal chop. “10 More Commandments”, albeit a nod to B.I.G's “Ten Crack Commandments”, is an imaginative update to a classic tune with a rare appearance from Diddy reclaiming his crown as an ad-lib master. Outside of an all-time verse from the streaking J. Cole, every guest vocal are watered down versions of the selected MC. Conway, Stove, Boldy, .38 Spesh and Westside gift Benny verses so limp it begs the question if they were new or just leftovers from their own sessions with the workhorse producers. 

        After a year living with this album, the want to keep pushing through the tracklist fades fast after the intro. The run time is only 40 minutes, but feels endless with loop upon loop stacked into the tracklist mesmerizing you to a state of malaise.  It’s not a fully lifeless piece, but just dead enough to keep the stethoscope on stand by. What’s missing from Benny is something that plagues many rappers who rely on traditionalist values; lack of invention. Focusing on fundamentals doesn’t inherently mean boring, but when you’re just kinda solid at the fundamentals with no flash around it, the boredom is impossible to run from. Tana Talk 4 is the embodiment of someone being too comfortable, hoping to find new life in old spaces. The flames of something new rarely survive throughout a whole verse, a bad omen for someone with aspirations of being in conversation with real legends.

Best Song: “Bust A Brick Nick”
Best Beat: “Thowy’s Revenge”
Best Moments: J. Cole on “Johnny P’s Caddy” / Diddy’s ad-libs on “10 More Commandments” / Verse 2 of “Thowy’s Revenge”

Modern Review: Generational Curse

Score: 4.5/5 | Released: March 24th, 2023

Written By: Anthony Seaman      

   Chaos is an unquestioned piece of the best West Coast releases ever made. The overlapping storylines within a house party, escaping or causing drive by’s, rule breaking feats of the human language, or 24-hour documentaries through the lives of those seen as America’s most dangerous never are consistent. The consistency is the inconsistency. There’s always time to party, to laugh, cry, scream to the heavens. Bass lines pulse, samples screech, drums go a mile a millisecond or a mile an hour. ICECOLDBISHOP may be the best at harnessing this chaos of any rapper the West Coast has ever seen. He gives classic tales of hard drug use and gun violence, but reframes it not as stories of pure violence, but before and after tales. Generational Curse has been sitting on the shelf for years, with only light tweaks across the pandemic punching it up to be what it is today. Capturing the fears of walking into treacherous territory as the sun goes down, the production is thick with darkness. Who or what will pop from around the corner next is unknown, every bass line and kick regrounds you while BISHOP zooms up and down the musical scale with his voice.Take A Daytrip retreat from the pop-rap crossover world of Lil Nas X back to their roots as hip-hops elite stadium shakers. Kenny Beats, Kal Banx, Mr. Carmack stand out with their one-off placements, but the trio of Jeremy Uribe, BREGMA, and Kyla Moscovich appear as co-producers across the album hemming tight and loose ends that could break you out of this cinematic record. 

        BISHOP is as nimble of a speaker as they come. He pushes his voice from the gruffness of a superior to a squawk fit for a zoo animal. He’s the Kyrie of vocal manipulation; everything you imagine doing by yourself when you’re singing along seems plausible, until you actually try it. Much like Kyrie, BISHOP is doing it at the highest level with seemingly no resistance. It’s hard work, it’s patience, but that final tier of mastery requires a special invitation from God to enter. It ramps up his storytelling, making the same LA tales movies, podcasts and other albums have taken as source material, but with new depth. You can trace the deepening and eventual rising of his delivery best on “OUT THE WINDOW”, where the bends come in waves. From near drunken rumbles to breathless stabs he flexes a linguistic range from point A to point B like no other working rapper can. Tune out for 10 seconds and you’re in a whole new part of South Central, still in go mode like you were previously but with a whole new set of problems. 

Like everyone in the neighborhood, he’s never just a simple bystander, he’s a conscious participant. Pills and liquor are in his system, and it’s because he’s learned it from everyone around him, who learned it from their people and so on. Murder isn’t just a senseless act over a misunderstanding, you take ours and we take yours, regardless of the repercussions. The closing verse of “CANDLELIGHT” breaks down the cold side of being an OG, consciously manipulating fresh faces in the crew to commit crimes you caused from the comfort of your couch. The starkest of them all may be “TIL THE END” where BISHOP speaks on children and teenaged victims being just as bad the grown folks. “Whole lotta niggas you think die for nothing / die for something / you don’t know why cause we don’t tell our side to the public / nobody aint really innocent / that little boy at 16 you see with the book bag / he really out here killing shit”. What do you say when you see passing down traditions is damaging progression? Rage fires out of his mouth on "CURSED", as the pent up frustrations materialize into an open invitation to be a front line solider. BISHOP’s answer is retelling the tales with a kind of clarity that isn’t perspective based, but rather from a rooftop above it all.  Generational Curse is a low stakes version of good kid, m.A.A.d. city with the production values of DAMN., more specifically the twitchier anthems like “ELEMENT” and “m.A.A.d. city”. Is he the main character through this LP? Vividly speaking on his family members' addiction issues and murders make him the star, but based on the environment he’s detailing you could swap out the name but the story stays the same.

        The ingredients that are used to make the West Coast gumbo are so distinct that it’s become harder to splash in new ingredients. We adore Blxst for throwing a Don Toliver filter over landscapes Young Slo-Be and Drakeo co-molded, and Kendrick was deified for being the first to synthesize every West Coast movement into 2 albums. California is more insular than any other region, MC Ren was able to get Platinum Certified off an EP that hardly circulated in stores outside of the state. Any outside influence is appreciated, because at this point in time it’s hard to spin the Blood vs. Crip anthology with any new eye popping details. Performances from Busta Rhymes, Busdriver and E-40 feel soaked into the DNA of BISHOP intentionally or not. He’s spoken highly of G-Unit and Kendrick in interviews, and the face breaking force of real life matches that of those acts, and that is enough of a twist to keep the formula fresh. He feels poised to slip right into the West Coast ecosystem, already working with Alchemist, Reason and Ab-Soul while wrapping himself in the ecosystems of Rico Nasty and AG Club to keep new ideas flowing. The greatness of BISHOP isn’t in what he says, but how he says it. The pulses of his vocal chords seep the words into the back of your brain like the omnipresent fear of the sky falling. He’s a performer first, but one that has a sense of purpose to display his life and the lives of those around him unselfishly. It’s not about what they do or have done or are plotting on doing to their fellow man, but how did we get here? Can it ever stop if we set it out so plainly in front of our eyes?

Best Song: "FOCUSED"

Best Beat: "OUT THE WINDOW"

Best Moments: The speedy jazz section of "FOCUSED" / Verse 1 of "I CANT SWIM" / The blown out vocals on "CURSED" / The singing in the car interlude on "CANDLELIGHT" 

Modern Review: Emergency Raps Vol. 4

Score: 4/5 | Released: January 25th, 2019

Written By: Anthony Seaman 

      

 Virgina, North Carolina, DC and Maryland have a history in hip-hop that’s time and again overlooked. They’re not fly over states, but rather drive throughs as people escape New England winters to vacation in Florida, or as Southerns take summer road trips north to experience big cities like NYC, Philly and the cleaned up historical novels of DC. Appreciation for the mountains, thick morning fogs, and scenic national parks remind you of the hidden beauty the stolen land we live upon holds. The R&B, jazz and pop music that has come from this forested corner of America is overpowering; Thelonious Monk, Jodeci, Aaliyah, Ginuwine, Johnny Gill, Frank Zappa, the list goes on. Its hip-hop importance is easily forgotten if not for the biggest stars of the last 2 decades (Missy Elliott, Pharrell, Timbaland) being as much of stars in other genres as they are rap. J. Cole, Logic, Wale and DaBaby have become contemporary rap representatives, but the underground blueprint  for them to get to these Billboard chart heights was forged by early internet adopters Little Brother, Nickelus F, Oddisee and The Clipse. Pete Rock, Wu-Tang Clan, the Soulquarians and Camp Lo hold a place within the area's DNA creating a petri dish of East Coast Golden Era bar focused verses with the soulful thump of Southern beatmakers past. Lute, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon, Rapsody, and redveil are the modern day inheritors of the land, constantly adding their own spice to the family recipe. Mutant Academy, a Richmond based collective of rappers, has had the most bountiful collection of music of the aforementioned bunch, expanding what it means to be ultra-skilled in this region. The MC’s are distinct from one another, each playing a role in a greater team setting, while the producers have either perfect or experimented with samples and live instruments farther than anyone before them. At the head of the crew is co-founder Fly Anakin, leading by example with the most focused discography and consistent output of his cohorts.

        As a continuation of his Emergency Raps series, Mutant Academy producer Tuamie gets Fly Anakin solo for the first time. Tuamie is a loop master, creating beats that feel like reclining in a planetarium. So spacious it feels like you can look up and see the waves of sound envelop you, detailed with twinkling hi end percussion filling the sky with a sea of constellations. Dilla-esk bass tones and back shattering kicks create a solid ground for a rapper to hold on to, but Anakin has always been above the clouds in his own wizardry. The hypnosis these instrumentals put you under can lull you into your own mind, losing focus on the words spoken, but making the times you focus on them more rewarding. The dexterity of his delivery is up there with the Eminem’s and Snoop Dogg’s of the world, no pocket is too small or too off meter for him to attack. His bersagliere level accuracy in word placement can be heard across “Gold Accord (Veronica)” fitting phrases in the little space Tuamie’s piano chords provide. Tonally he’s screeching into layers of sound, every breath between bars is left in like a purposeful adlib. Songwriting has been what separates him the most from his Mutant brethren, structuring classic rap hooks in between his head spinning verses.

         “Karl Kani” has become the perfect entry point into new underground fans, fitting as a minimalistic dive into Fly’s abilities while your head bobs along to the mid-tempo groove. A blacked out bedroom with hypnotic LED projections overlay Fly in the songs video, giving the perfect tutorial on how to enjoy an Anakin classic; good weed, cozy seating, and time alone to let the art flow over you. “Murray’s” is a 2 minute long ode alongside Skyzoo about youthful efforts to get waves in their hair, doubling as a reminder to the importance of consistency in life. “Travolta IV” is a continuation of Mutant Academy cyphers, this time over a cramped choir loop that forces the crew (sans a recently departed for solo work Koncept Jack$on) to speed over one another like the final stretch of a NASCAR race. Henny builds upon his own lore as a vivid scene painter, Anakin’s vocal dexterity is slid up to 10, and Kahuna remains unbothered by the tempo and power waltz’s with updates on his day-to-day life. For Tuamie and Anakin both “Splinters” is a darker adventure the is more Cold Vein than “Cooley High”, bringing in Al.Divino and Ankhlejohn for a sub zero bar fest. As 2019 unfolded you saw Mach-Hommy, Roc Marciano, Westside Gunn and Billy Woods remind the world who earned faces on the Underground Mt. Rushmore for this generation, but Fly alone with this album and the Kahuna collab Holly Water showed he could write, curate and perform alongside any of them. If it weren't for Your Old Droog having the year of his life, Fly would have cemented his own name into the Top 5 Alive conversation that year next to Woods, Gibbs, DaBaby and Young Thug.

        It’s been nearly 5 years since its release, and much has shifted in the crews universe. Everyone in the collective still collaborates, just more in sub-sects than as a family. Other rappers that were once ancillary extended family have risen to their own success (cc: Monday Night, Nitty Blanco, and 3WaySlim) while producers have leaned heavily into beats tapes and outside placements. Fly Anakin has risen in popularity the fastest, gaining co-signs from staples Madlib and Evidence, now focusing on releasing music on Lex Records instead of independently and touring across the world. In a stellar catalog this record lies near the top, though too short to truly top the psychedelic hysteria of Backyard Boogie or the worldly Pink Siffu extravaganza FlySiifu’s (Deluxe Version). To be blunt, it’s a simple suite of Anakin songs that straddles the twitchy acid dripped collages and red eyed smoker grooves that make up Fly’s catalog. An album like this works as an introduction into a more complex system of conversational roots, afterwards begging the answer to same question Phonte asked 2 decades ago on “Not Enough” from the crew's 2nd underground classic The Minstrel Show; “dope beats dope rhymes what more yall want?”

Best Beat: “Katomate”

Best Song: “Karl Kani”

Best Moments: “SDCCAMtro” / Monday Night destroying everything on “Lost Feelings” / the background vocal layering on “Murray’s” / Fly’s verse on “Travolta Pt. IV” / “I see the future cause i’m part of that shit” / “Splinters”, just every element of it is a shock to the system

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”