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)

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

Cop G.N. Jones' newest book Hetacomb Of The Vampire and share it with your pals.

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)