Rapper Of The Month: Kendrick Lamar (April-June '24)

Kendrick Lamar performing at Glastonbury 2022

 Written By: Anthony Seaman

 

Month to month tracking the rap landscape and seeing who dominated the charts and the hearts of us all is a fun exercise snapshotting the increasingly niche pockets of the modern era. Cash Cobain is collabing with everyone as the sexy drill sound begins to leave his borough and take over the nation. Sexyy Red has found a way to level up as an artist and keep every bit of ghetto expressiveness just as raw as it was on "SkeeYee". Gunna dropped a B-level record that doubles down on his ability to make hits through the long dark shadow that is the YSL RICO case. Even Mach-Hommy and Chief Keef have rediscovered themselves after never ending delays became real deal release dates, creating high water marks in the late stages of thier careers. It’s cool to look at the weeks these artists have had. So sweet. Adorable even. From one hater to another though, I have no choice but to make it clear that until further notice Kendrick Lamar Duckworth is the best rapper alive. Again the West Coasts greatest living export has with comedy, John Carpenter level ghoulishness, and the most nimble pen in all of rap reminded us that at any given moment he could have always shown his face and been the best, instead he choosing to hole up in the hills of LA writing plays and avoiding the reindeer games all together. In his absense guys like Billy Woods, Mach, Veeze, Lil Baby, Future, etc all have rotated the Crown amongst each other. A rotaiton that ended the moment "Euphoria" was released, and will stay paused until some new challenger comes out with a body of work that reaches their full potential. Or they choose to directly attack Kendrick himself. 

Drake & Kendrick on The Club Paradise Tour circa 2012

        I’ve taken the last few months off of writing for the site, but even amongst my own personal turmoils (physical and mental health, writer’s block, etc) the Kendrick vs. Drake War found a way to weasle in on even the darkest days. I’ve explained this WW3 event to the casual rap fans in my life (my own mother included) in so many ways these last few weeks. For those who don’t even see a connection between the two Blog Era peers in the first place, I go back to Drake bringing Kendrick on the Club Paradise Tour and giving him an interlude on Take Care. For those who just want to know about the direct shots, “Control”, Drake's CRWN interview, and the 2012 BET Cypher are Ground Zero. For people wondering why Drake is so hated in the first place, I bring up the Drake v. Meek Mill Beef which although ended in a win, it exposed the first real chink in Drake’s seemingly impenetrable Nike Tech sponsored armor. For the most curious haters, explaining how an unpaid beat and a BAPE hoodie was the first domino that created a generation transcending beef with Pusha T and all of the Cash Money Records family tree was paramount. Times like this it would be great to just have a podcast, but to be associated with all the bearded incels, washed up athletes and wannabe stand ups that have watered down the medium is something I'd rather die a slow death than do. By the time “Not Like Us” became the #1 song in the country I was cashed out. But that was then, and now not a day goes by that I don’t grin like an idiot yelling random lyrics while cooking or driving to work from all parties involved.

    Reflecting back on the timeline of events the last few months led to me every couple days playing all the records from every rapper involved in this Civil War in order from “First Person Shooter” onward like a Beef History mixtape. 

1. First Person Shooter - Drake & J. Cole

2. Like That - Future & Metro Boomin Feat. Kendrick Lamar

3. Everyday Hustle - Future & Metro Boomin Feat. Rick Ross

4. 7 Minute Drill - J. Cole

5. The Apology (Live @ Dreamville Fest) - J. Cole

6. All To Myself -  Future & Metro Boomin Feat. The Weeknd

7. Show Of Hands - Future & Metro Boomin Feat. A$AP Rocky

8. Push Ups (Leaked Version) - Drake

9. One Shot (AI Generated Diss) - Sy The Rapper cosplaying as Kendrick Lamar

10. Champagne Moments - Rick Ross

11. Push Ups (Final Version) - Drake

12. Taylor Made Freestyle - Drake feat. AI 2Pac & AI Snoop Dogg

13. Rick Ross’ IG Stories (Pt. 1) (Pt. 2) (Pt. 3) - Rick Ross

14. Like That (Remix) - Future & Metro Boomin Feat. Kanye West

15. Euphoria - Kendrick Lamar

16. 6:16 In LA - Kendrick Lamar

17. Family Matters - Drake

18. Buried Alive Interlude Spoof - Drake

19. Meet The Grahams - The Fucking Devil Himself

20. Not Like Us - Kendrick Lamar

21. The Heart Pt. 6 - Drake

22. BBL Drizzy - Metro Boomin

Across this entire fiasco, Kendrick wisely bided in silence, stashing records accordingly, plotting Drake’s demise like a war general. He sat above it all watching Rick Ross speak his peace, Future lounge in silence, and Kanye try to insert himself in the dogpile. J. Cole popped his head in too only to run back inside after (allegedly) ScHoolboy Q came to him at Dreamville Fest, warning Cole of the ugliness that was about to ensue. Metro, who may be the real button pusher of this whole catastrophy, was so driven by his rage he created a marketing campaign for the first ever diss-trumental. As lines in the sand were drawn amongst fans and other artists the stakes slowly raised from slick sparring jabs and memes to a full out mud slinging match once Kendrick’s longtime fiancé Whitney was mentioned on “Push Ups”. If "Like That" was a temperature check, "Push Ups" and "Taylor Made Freestyle" were the waters visibly bubbling. All bets were off. The one-two punch of “Euphoria” and “6:16 In LA” quickly put him up over the halfhearted OVO releases. In a half dozen styles Kenny sewed the seeds of paranoia within Drakes camp, and was shooting side splitting one-liners like Mitch Hedberg. The wordplay was top notch, he transitioned between gliding through the Matrix and crashing into walls at top speed. He called in to question Drake as a songwriter and a father. He called him out for ducking Pusha T, disrespecting 2Pac, for teaming up with J. Cole, for getting cosmetic surgery, for getting robbed. The waters were rumbling and spilling over the edge of the pot.

Drake & his custom G Unit chain in the "Family Matters" video 

On the way to a friend's house I ran “Family Matters” twice, finally parsing the video in the apartment complex parking lot. On the diss he made quick work of the ancillary characters, picked his spots on where to respond to “Euphoria”, questioned whether or not Kendricks children were his or manager Dave Free’s, and even went as far to claim Kendrick as an abuser. The most Devilish tricks lies in the details of the video; invoking the spirit of the Petty King himself 50 Cent with a custom G-Unit chain, crushing a minivan similar to the good kid, m.A.A.d. city cover van, sitting in the restaurant Kendrick called him out for once being robbed in, playfully sharing Pharrell's collection of jewels like the scalp of an enemy soldier. There was even an IG video of Drake spoofing “Buried Alive Interlude”, going back over the beat and twisting his vocals to mimic Kendricks alien voice from the original version. It was a response package strong enough to shut the lights off and send the crowd home for probably 98% of all rappers. This was the real moment for Kendrick to prove if he was ready to play with The King. As someone fully bought in to Team Kendrick, even if I thought “Euphoria” had better rapping, I had to admit “Family Matters” and its video had Drake on the offensive. The water was sizzling on the stove top, and it was time to make a choice; turn the burner down or burn the whole house down.

"Meet The Grahams" cover art

At a red light on the way home from the get together, I did what we all do. Popping my phone open, keeping one eye on the light, I reopened YouTube to run “Family Matters” again. At the top of my homepage was the thumbnail for  “Meet The Grahams”. An image fully revealing what the rest of the “6:16 In LA” cover was hiding. The same Maybach glove, a couple illegible receipts, and pill bottles stamped with the name Aubrey Graham. One of those was an Ozempic prescription. HIPPA laws be damned, that zoom was enough for me to almost slide through the intersection. I pressed play instantly. As a card-carrying member of the Alchemist Is The Best Living Rap Producer Club, before Kendrick uttered a word I had a strong feeling who was behind the production. Crossing under green light after green light, my jaw slowly dropped farther and farther from its base position until it was dragging behind my shitty VW Jetta like tin cans on a newlyweds rented convertible. There was no rage; he barely spoke above a gravely whisper. It was a vile showing of disgust, disappointment, pity, and dismay. Not at what Drake had said about him, but at the immoral core of the life he was living behind the stained wooden doors ot The Embassy. For the first verse Lamar came as a distraught member of the community to his mortal enemy’s son Adonis, apologizing for Drake’s poor parenting skills and instead offering to come and fill the role of father to teach him self worth, discipline, and morality. Verse two started as him coming to Aubrey’s parents Sandy and Dennis as a disgruntled member of society, attempting to make clear the evil their son has brought to the world and reminding them of the role they played in creating such a “fucking horrible person” and “sick man with sick thoughts”. That same verse evolves into a blanket warning for any woman or family man that comes into Drake’s circle, cautioning them of their Canadian pals' ties to known sex traffickers. A secret daughter is the recipient of verse three (by this point my jaw had found its way to the Everglades) showing a heartbroken Kendrick again apologizing for her fathers neglect, narcissism, and addictions, eventually showing compassion as he realizes Drake is just repeating a cycle initiated by Dennis’ one-again-off-again parenting style. With his immediate bloodline addressed, a forth verse finally targeting Mr. Graham himself strolls in. Again, the disappointment is palpable, reading him for filth and suggesting ayahuasca as a cure for his addictions, ego and insecurities.

Kendrick & Havoc of Mobb Deep at the '17 BET Awards 

With still no proof coming to light of secret daughter existing, does “Meet The Grahams” lose any of its effectiveness? Not one bit. You could remove verse three altogether and you’d still be left with the most terrifying diss record rap has ever seen. Murder and torture are things we as humans categorize under the “things that happen most commonly in the shadows” category. “Hit ‘Em Up”, “No Vaseline”, “Ether” all were finishing moves that leaned into the darker sides of human emotion; disgust, spite, hatred, anger. There’s a hole lot of high octane emotiveness involved in those sentiments. But Kendrick didn’t have to yell and scream like he did on “Euphoria” or “Like That” or even “Control” to rock the world this go ‘round; he came with open arms of compassion and sadness to his enemies blood relatives to do it. It’s more sinister than the unrushed pace of Michael Meyers coming after you. It’s more petrifying than The Joker's laugh echoing down your street. It’s the rap equivalent of the scene in Midsommar when Jack Raynor’s character discovers the body of his friend hanging from the rafters of a chicken coop. The endless sun beaming through the wood panels, and the technicolor flowers placed across the body only makes the discovery of his mutilated friend, still breathing as the hens use him for feed, that much more gruesome. Fitting somewhere right above any Prodigy verse from Mobb Deep's Hell On Earth, but still second to Immortal Technique's infamous “Dance With The Devil”; it’s the most bone chilling rap performance in history. Any DJ working a Halloween party that doesn’t find a way to combine this record to “Thriller” is doing a disservice to anyone in earshot of thier set.

In boxing, styles make fights. The same goes for rap beefs. Drake has been a cerebral crowd pleasing heavyweight, breaking down his enemies with club records and sticky barbs that live on as IG captions and bumper stickers. Nobody knew what to expect from Kendrick, because no one had ever said Candyman until now. He's a Gemini style fighter. He moves in twos, Track A being a charged up breakdown of what's already on the table, while Track B is a cold hearted and calculated reveal of something new. That something new may only be understood by he and who he's lined up against, but the reveal is icey and unforgiving. It forces the question; "are you really sure you want to do this?". Now A or B doesn't represent order, but simply just shows the many ways you can skin a rapper. Top dogs have been beaten out of their throne, but none have been dragged in the street and curb stomped quite like this. The war was won with a damning Track B. "Meet The Grahams" was a funeral to the image of one of raps all time greats. And after any funeral, must come a repass. "Not Like Us" soundtracked that repass, and still blares out of 1 of every 15 car speakers at any given moment. It's become "Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead" for the millions of people who had been waiting in the rafters for the end of the Drake Dynasty. It couldn't be more distant from "Meet The Grahams" in tone, energy, and style. It's the perfect Track A. Comedic, compact, and oh so Los Angeles. The spirit of the late Drakeo The Ruler (along with E-40 and *checks notes* Sada Baby?) act as irrefutable inspiration. From the cadence to the lingo, the most influential rapper in LA of the last decade conjoins with Kendricks superhuman writing and execution to make the most popular song of the Streaming Era. It wasn't enough to make a song that forces you to dance on Drakes grave, the song had to go on to break every record for singles that once held his name. There's a seperate conversation to be had about how we as a people can still two-step at a wedding to alligations of pedophilia pointed at someone who has known ties to the underworld of sex trafficking, but hey, who am I to rain on the parade.

We'll never see another war of this magnitude in our lifetimes. It's just not possible. The competitive spirit of two rappers who at their core still believe in the competitive nature of the genre got us here. A 12 year build of GRAMMY wins, combative interviews quotes, sales records, gossip headlines, classic albums, behind the scenes slick talk, and sold out international tours between two of the most adored vocalists of a generation (pop, rock, rap or otherwise) finally blew its top for an entire Spring. 5+ minute songs with multiple beat switches from the biggest producers in the world. There were leaked reference tracks proving again that Drake's pen is guided by many hands. Coded verses stuffed to the brim with a lifetime of quotables. It's Dave Chappelle's Playa Haters' Ball fully realized. It's enough to make a grown fan cry. It was enough to make Drake wave the white flag on "The Heart Pt. 6". All songs considered, it's enough to crown Kendrick Lamar as the best rapper alive every month until the sun burns out.

Rapper Of The Month: Yeat (Feb. '24)

Written By: Anthony Seaman            

 Despite being line for line one of the only working rappers so linguistically challenged that any of the bubbling IG model-rapper hybrids could sound poetic, Yeat has been the star of February. Yes, Kanye and Ty Dolla $ign wasted our time with a blockbuster train wreck, YL and Starker continued their hot streak, Little Simz synthesized a warehouse party into an EP, and Icewater Vezzo keeps running plays from Newberry to Monroe, but none of them continued doing what great rappers do; force us to ask questions. Despite speaking in elementary level declarative statements about his lack of sobriety and property ownership, 2093 as a whole forces curiosity. Is there where rap is going? Is this the first new age rapper that exploded during the pandemic who attempted to create a big tent statement album? Is releasing an album in waves instead of the now more accepted standard to deluxe combo going to be the new normal? If this really is the future, are we sure it's one we really want to live in? How long until this artist follows the path of every fame junkie in his peer group (regardless of artistic discipline) and begins selling us products for other corporations so he can follow through on his newest persona; the Psycho CEO?

            Whenever a pop star announces an accompanying short film with their album it’s an egotistical dud that falls flat emotionally for the sake of ticking higher on social media metrics. 2093 is one of the few records that deserved a pocket emptying multi-media rollout. A short film, an art installation, hell even a PC game would push many of the points home. Y2K nostalgia, the birth of a new rap boundary pusher, a budding fashionista with an actually interesting aesthetic, and, dare I say, the next one to hold the crown once Drake finally gives us some breathing room. Creating a perfect system that makes your eyes go wide and your jaw drop so often that you never have time to focus on the shortcomings of the lead artist is a Travi$ Scott move turned contemporary hip-hop staple. Say very little, and let all the moving parts around you do the talking. Without any real accompanying videos or content at the time of this article, something feels missing from the 2093 experience. We still get Future, Lil Wayne and Drake lighting up their features, an uncredited Childish Gambino interlude, orchestral strings all acting as big swings the bit crushed Soundcloud bred party boys of his ilk have never even sniffed. It's another notch in his belt holding himself above the Slayworld collective that Yeat was affiliated with for many years before gaining larger notoriety. The crew has from their solemn corners guided the sound of underground hip-hop the last few years, but star status has evaded them all thanks to criminal issues and scandalous allegations into sexual misconduct. Keeping his nose clean while feverishly chasing more ambitious soundscapes has allowed the collective's fanbase to focus more on Yeat, while bringing in an exponentially growing crowd of onlookers in the process. 

            Hip-hop artists who have mattered the most pushed the envelope not just with the sounds on their CD’s but in the context surrounding the record's release. In this young decade few stars have toyed with world building quite like Tyler The Creator while the Kendricks and Drakes and Futures of the world have rested on not creating worlds but rather leaning into certain fashion pieces or hairstyles to contrast from one shameful “era” to the next. Now showing his face in public proudly and leaning into (shockingly interesting) AI B-role content, the Portland raised studio rat has materialized something you can feel to match what he lets us see. The anxiety of what the future might hold is played upon in faux news clips and crop circles doubling as album promo. On the cover he’s dawning a leather trench coat fit for a Gotham madman. Greens, grays, neon yellows all work in unison to show a real concentrated sci-fi pastiche that his beat selection has always alluded to. With turban or digitally altered skelton to hide behind, he’s looking onward to a kingdom dying right as he’s taking the throne. Production choices have always felt a step removed from the modern coil in a world where hackers know the truth but the government hasn’t targeted their demise quite yet. 2093 is what happens when those hackers are all deleted and all that’s left is to join the enemy for survival. Our hero numbs himself to assimilate into a story where this machinist world feels normal, burning out any last specs of his humanity to hold pride in his successes while rarely reeling from his shortcomings. Charisma isn’t a superpower in his lexicon, and that’s what makes this operatic expansion of self more interesting; the more removed from reality he sounds the farther into his creation you dive. He’s the only rapper who can pull off apathy without forcing you to cringe. His soul has been de-rezzed into a test tube and locked away in a vault never to be felt again, making his vessel the perfect avatar for the sounds of dystopia. 

            For two straight weeks Yeat topped the Billboard charts, slow dripping all 28 tracks over a weekend with some only being available for purchase through his website. No single has taken off the way “Out The Way” or “Poppin” did on previous albums, but that seems intentional. The focus isn’t on increased stardom, but if it comes this time around it’ll be on the merits of an artistic risk from a young innovator looking to blaze his own way.

Rapper Of The Month: Wiki (Nov. '23)

         Oh sweet November. The weather gets crispy, you’re seeing family for the first time in what may be months or even years. The music industry is beginning to slow down and switch gears to Year End lists and Christmas albums. This November we got to see Drake go full “real hip-hop” on us, producer Blockhead released a project showcasing the underground MC’s we hold near and dear, Kodak Black went fully off the edge and RXKNephew dropped another LP leaking at the edges with absurdities only Kool Keith could imagine. As rappers become more obtuse and the genre expands, finding someone who can to the line between being a pure spitter and exciting envelope pusher can be taxing. Over the last few years Wiki had been reinvigorated to take on such a role, as well as becoming a foundational pillar in the New York hip-hop community. He's the connective tissues that keeps traditionalists like Heems and Your Old Droog in conversation with the spunky upstarts from across the tristate in Papo2004, and DJ Lucas. Handfuls of songs have hit streaming and Soundcloud every few seasons, most of which packaged in full with a single producer tending to a particular vision. This month the former Ratking frontman released 14k Figaro produced in full by Tony Seltzer, who himself has dabbled across the city as a go-to producer for anyone on the dustier or more street side of the music. Music as a whole has been on a steep craze for brazzen nostalgia to the point new hits are just covers of old radio classics. While NY was king in the Y2k era that is the chosen home for our sentimental longings, artists from there have a built in advantage. The style of oversized jersey’s and Pelle Pelle jackets are easily found in thrift stores and flea markets, and the kings of old like 50 Cent and Jay-Z have DNA implanted so deep into the city's youth they can recite songs easier than the national anthem. Wiki might not dive into the physical aesthetics of post-9/11 Manhattan as hard as YL or Starker, but few songs play through without the wistful reminiscence of quarter waters or buzzing non-gentrified neighborhoods.

            Wik isn’t your classic old man yelling at the clouds about the good ole days, but rather a curmudgeonly local who’s seen it all. There isn’t a desperate grasp to keep the classic boom bap sound alive, but rather an integration of old and new into a joyous hybrid for everyone. To not become jaded to the world takes an appreciation for the evolution spirit. Cue Tony Seltzer and his disjointed production style that makes every 10 seconds boldly distinguishable from the last, where following the buzzing 808’s is like chasing a butterfly through the streets. “The Enterprise” is his most restrained production (right next to the slow bop “Weed Song”) but the scattershot hi hats still rummage over a chipmunk sample at a headrushing pace. The chops aren’t the calculated slop of Dilla, but closer to technical wizardry of Popstar Benny where filters, reverses and wonky percussion fills cram into every millisecond. While WifiGawd and Key! rely on swag and style to feel at home on their full projects with Tony, Wiki uses his expertise in flow manipulation to slither in lockstep with the production. “Fried Ice Cream” is where the duo mindmeld with Detroit oddball ZelooperZ for a “Candy Shop” sampling excursion. Off rip sampling “Candy Shop” is a bold move, but chopping it into a bounce like it’s any other sample instead of going the interpolation route is a stroke of genius. After a decade plus of rapping Wiki’s delivery is more nimble than ever, he’s seeing the Matrix and painting his vocals into every pixel without hesitation. 

            No fragment of his culture is left to the wayside; nothing from it deserves to be forgotten, his own story included. “Lilypad” is the clear eyed thank you to his mother and the haven that she raised him within, and it’s spiritual twin “That Aint Pat” focuses on his adversarious origin story as a rapper. Capturing the soul of his beloved hometown is what drives Wiki’s music. More important than the verbal photographs of summer days in the city that he etches into history, is for us to understand who the man is behind the words. So many of his contemporaries are intrigued to no end by restructuring the English language in their own image or making it be known first and foremost how dangerous they can be. Once upon a time he claimed to be the mayor of his town, but now presides on the side as a watchful older brother. Being a leader by example has always been an inherent piece of his character; learn from what he once did and strive for the truth of tomorrow like he strives. The duality of being the birds eye philosopher and the grounded OG in the world around his stoop makes him the cities most in tune anthropologist, and a gold standard for what being a rapper can look like.

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

Rapper Of The Month: Drake (Oct. '23)

         For fans of Big Brand Content disguised as entertainment promotion you couldn’t escape Offset, Westside Gunn pretended to be from Atlanta, Veeze expanded his Album Of The Year contender with an equally stellar deluxe treatment, MIKE dropped 2 jaw dropping projects within the last 6 weeks, and Ken Carson found the best beats in the universe and set them on fire in front of our faces (derogatory). But it’s time for everyone to look in the mirror and remember the kind of world we live in. One where art is a springboard for alternative entertainment, playlisting is key to survival at the top of the pops, and all discourse is good discourse. Insert Drake breaking out of a run since the pandemic that has garnered more side eyes than any 3 year stretch before it. Dark Lane Demo Tapes was the last rap project from Drake where inspiration felt natural for more than 2 tracks at a time but even it held the stomach churning “Crank Dat” style record in “Toosie Slide”. Her Loss and Certified Lover Boy had immense highs but some of the lowest lows in his storied catalog, and while Honestly, Nevermind is still incredible, it’s just not a rap album. 2023 saw a poetry book and a country spanning mega-tour with 21 Savage stuffed with surprise guests filled his usual content requirements while new music was sparse. J Hus and Central Cee got the UK variant of the Drake Stimulus Package, BNYX laced him with his most infections single since “Laugh Now, Cry Later” in “Search & Rescue”, and boy did he try his damndest to sound menacing on Travi$’ “Meltdown”. All of these songs are good, but comedic coming from the (probably intentionally) biggest walking punchline rap has had since Ma$e retired for God. The memes fly in by the dozens; floating towards a pie like a Looney Tunes character, contemporary Disney Channel animations of him joyfully interrupting Yeat, AI created photos running from horror movie cryptids. Separated from it all the music still stands out not just comparatively to mainstream releases, but to all hip-hop. 

        It’s structured like every Drake album has been since Views; enough core Drake songs to keep his Day 1 fans interested, a few sonic experiments, a couple features with friends, and an R&B track or two, eye popping uncredited voices sliding in. “IDGAF”, the long rumored Yeat collaboration is just a watered down Afterlyfe deep cut clunked up by someone with zero ties to the sound trying to smash a square peg into a triangular hole. Ghost Town DJ's Miami Bass classic has its drums ripped for the future roller rink classic "Rich Baby Daddy". Each Teezo Touchdown and Chief Keef entry slide perfectly into place whether it be as a sample, hook or background vocals. Sade and Snoop Dogg handle the BARK Radio interludes, Cash Cobain brings sexy drill mainstream to mixed results, and for whatever reason traditional “bars” and inquisitive schemes have regained his interest again. Punchline rap styles have either faded to the most skilled underground artists (shoutout Your Old Droog) or still forcing eyerolls when checking in on veterans (this is a PSA to get Lil Wayne to stop making full solo songs). In a world where Detroit rap is slowly taking over with their ostentatious punch-ins, quality rap couplets are making a full comeback. “8AM In Charlotte” is the glaring example of this, where Drizzy taps Griselda workhorse Conductor Williams just weeks after North Carolina/Drake’s stylistic forefathers Little Brother do the exact same. Timestamp songs have always been lyrical highlights full of target barbs at eskimo brothers or entertainers who have disrespected him personally, but for once a stream of 1-2 combos just exists for the fun of it. “First Person Shooter” is a throwaway made listenable if not only by the novelty of 2 all time legends being on one song together and acting as a maybe top-20 feature of J. Cole’s career. Even Yachty in his new Concrete Boy-arc pushes Drake with comedic barbs about Billie Eilish and off brand lean. 

        Introspective storytelling from The Boy has always been masterfully one sided, lacking any context for what the opposite party or 10,000 foot view of the situation appears. These detailed renditions of heartbreak and frustration have always been his superpower, but he’s become more linear again. Whoever broke his heart recently has sparked a consistent focus that’s been lacking since Nothing Was The Same. Where Take Care had tones of regret and just plain pain underlying the songs, For All The Dogs is Drake at his most spiteful. Immature lashings of a person freshly scorned, not allowing himself anytime to process but rather just let the feelings guide the songwriting. “Bahamas Promises” is a 3 minute croon about a ruined vacation, “Drew A Picasso” holds the refrain written by a million teenage girls of “so embarrassing I want to die”, and “What Would Pluto Do” becomes a mission statement of following in the footsteps of “Toxic King” and rap partner Future. Despite all the crudity of these tracks, when played amongst the entire peak Drake catalog they fit right in. All are highlights within the last 5 years and included in the run from “7969 Santa” into the outro (after swiftly deleting the Bad Bunny song not only from my Apple Music, but my memory) that is by far the best act of sequencing in his career. 

        Clearly the era of Drake dominance is beginning to putter out. Public perception is at an all-time split, he’s a single away from breaking a seemingly untouchable Micheal Jackson record, and a high octane lifestyle is beginning to wear down his stomach lining. The musical landscape is becoming more niche, where no single artist is garnering massive fans to cop albums and go to shows, but rather scenes that become greater than their individual parts are becoming the trend. If anyone is built to succeed in this way it is the ultimate musical chameleon in Drake, but what is dominance if you’re always a guest in someone else’s kingdom and never a leader? What a real rest period looks like we’ll soon find out, but for what may be the last time for a long time a calendar month has been dominated by elite Drake music.

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

Rapper Of The Month: Earl Sweatshirt (Sept. '23)

     September saw Doja Cat teeter the line between rap and pop in a phenomenal way, Lancey Foux release an infectious rage tape, Nas & Hit-Boy bore us to sleep for the 3rd straight album, Drake fumble another album rollout, while FLEE and Cash Cobain push their own drill hybrids deeper into the DNA of an irrepressible east coast youth movement. Despite the new blood itching to seal itself into the world, and the legends clawing for relevancy, the maturing establishment has kept it’s heels in the ground. Blog Era darlings have either switched to alternate job fields or burrowed deeper into themselves creating music that expresses character and self with a freedom their predecessors did not. For Earl Sweatshirt the quest for self has always been paramount through honest emotion and hazy philosophy.

    The end of August began a month-long siege that bled through September with Earl Sweatshirt returning again with a new LP off the back of his wide-spanning Sick!. VOIR DIRE is a venture handled in full by longtime friend and your favorite rappers favorite rappers favorite producer The Alchemist, with the original version being an 11 track NFT only release through upstart Gala Music. Combining the new tracks that exist on the streaming version (which will be out October 6th) with the NFT only cuts comes a 14 track album of swift poetry matched alongside the warmest earworms of Al’s career. It stands tall as one of the best albums this year, and is pushing Some Rap Songs as the best album in his discography. Earl's a guide with his words, holding pockets of history and philosophy to your face, giving you a chance to dive into them if you so choose. You can accept his raps on their face as the musings of a stoned 20-something or you can join him on a quest for understanding the human experience. The long clamored for “Black Emperor” is properly titled “My Brother The Wind”, and fits in snuggly on a record that is equal parts otherworldly and loving to Southern California. Tributes to the late Drakeo The Ruler ("Free The Ruler"), former Voice of the LA Dodgers Vin Skully ("Vin Skully"), and plays on Kobe Bryant’s split career numerology (by way of Vince Staples on "The Caliphate") as well as thank you’s to his family ("27 Braids") makes this the most hospitable record in Earls catalog. Vince Staples is featured on two streaming version records, both of which could go down as his most bone-chilling performances to date. You can go the length of the album being lulled by Alchemists loops and Earls laid out delivery, catching stray bars but still feeling lost in the shrouds. It’s a hot shower while high, a dive in the ocean after a long run; welcoming to those looking for relief within their relief. 

    An eleven date tour with MIKE and Black Noi$e is on the horizon, while destabilizing music videos (for "Sentry" and "The Caliphate") bring a subtle touch of discomfort to an otherwise hypnotizing event. Every r/hiphop fan has begged for this album since Alchemist hinted at it many years back. “Making The Band (Danity Kane)” was an honorable mention for Song Of The Summer, and the DORIS 10 year anniversary concert was a sold out smash leading to the closest thing to an Odd Future reunion since the groups last performance together in 2015. Thanks to the easy math based on guesstimations and the fluctuating NFT market the duo has been estimated by The Fader to have cleared between half a million and a million dollars off the album before tour and a proper streaming release factor in. Though the idea of Web3 and NFT integrated music streaming is one with proper pushback (environmental factors, ease of access, the moral questions of alternate currency) the duo took a risk into a world that leads to a bigger gain for themselves as creators. More questions of whether this is a novelty, a jaded cash grab, or the future of musical commerce will be answered in time, but for now it works to bring to the world an album once thought to be lost in the annals of YouTube. Earl has been at the forefront of hip-hop in subtle ways, finding the brightest gems before they’re even shined (MIKE, 454, Mavi) and now his business is moving as fast as his taste.

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