The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
It’s been a while since mainstream pop stars got absolutely weird. Thankfully, artists like Doja Cat are carrying on the legacy of the likes of Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj, while saving the mainstream pool from getting dull.
“All the goofy kids, or the kids who don’t put themselves on a pedestal, or are just not normally accepted — I feel like making that example is good for those kids,” Doja said in her April Billboard cover story. “Because maybe they felt like they could never make it in an industry where everybody is so serious. It’s important that they know they have a lane.”
Staying true to her guts is mainly the reason for the 25-year-old’s rapid ascension, who thrives off of testing a whole myriad of boundaries. Whether it’s refusing to stick to one lane (she flips through rap, R&B and pop with ease), unleashing variousrenditions of “Say So” because she grew tired of performing the original version, or rocking the kookiest of outfits (2018’s viral “Mooo!” look being the most notorious), it’s clear Doja Cat lives for the thrill. So much so that she left Planet Earth and invited fans inside her new Planet Her album.
Arriving today, the 14-song collection finds the artist at her most confident. 2018’s Amala debut and 2019’s Hot Pink showcased her impressive versatility. Those albums were a yummy trail mix of talents, and Planet Her is the glue that brings it all together.
The album opens with the Afrobeats-inspired “Woman”, drifting listeners not to another planet — but the motherland. Similar to Amala’s “Wine Pon You” featuring dancehall star Konshens and Hot Pink’s “Won’t Bite” that samples 1945 Swahili love song “My Angel (Malaika)“, “Woman” is a hip-shaking celebration of the African diaspora. While bringing her heritage to the forefront (Doja’s father is South African), she shout outs Rihanna’s admirable CEO status as well as her own “divine feminine” allure. Later on “Alone,” Doja channels Rih’s come-hither attitude.
Women’s bodies double as a place of worship, and Doja Cat continues to highlight every inch of her curves on “Naked.” The artist has grown even more comfortable in her skin, and embracing sexuality is an integral theme on Planet Her. It’s best executed on the seductive “You Right.” Here, Doja reunites with The Weeknd, whom she previously collaborated on his “In Your Eyes” remix last May. The Weeknd, who is fresh off his ‘80s-inspired After Hours era, has retired the red suit and briefly returns to the dark sluttiness that longtime fans have been longing for. “But this sex will cloud your memory. A couple strokes will put an end and you’ll belong to me,” he urges in hopes Doja will leave her man.
One of Doja’s best traits is how she shapeshifts her sound to compliment guests. Along with “You Right,” she’s a gracious host on Planet Her, melding her tone to pair with Ariana Grande’s signature sultry coos on “I Don’t Do Drugs” and pumps up Young Thug for a glorious battle of the rap weirdos on “Payday.”
But there are stale moments to be avoided on Planet Her, including the forgettable “Been Like This” and “Imagine.” “Get Into It (Yuh)” is a SoundCloud rapper parody, which may or may not be a nod to when she first blew up on the streaming platform with 2012’s “So High.” What saves the track is the absolutely adorable Nicki Minaj shoutout towards the end, a reminder that the OG rapper is not only an inspiration but the one who pushed the “Say So” remix to No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot 100.
And then there’s the shadow of Dr. Luke: In 2014, Kesha hit the pop producer/songwriter with various allegations including rape and emotional abuse. The year prior, Doja Cat signed to his Kemosabe Records and hasn’t acknowledged the working relationship. Dr. Luke’s career has remained intact and has credits on “Need To Know,” “You Right,” and “Kiss Me More,” which is difficult to shake off.
But songs like “Ain’t Sh*t” and “Need To Know” help the album achieve its vision. The former, which Doja first previewed on Instagram Live last April, will satisfy fans who’ve awaited its official version. The stripped piano melody of “Ain’t Sh*t” calls back to Elton John’s 1974 classic “Bennie And The Jets,” but that original song’s sincerity is sharply juxtaposed with Doja’s beloved dry humor and a rightfully fed up attitude of the opposite sex (“You should’ve paid my rent / Got get a f**king job!).
“Need To Know” is the best song on Planet Her: an otherworldly joyride driven by the mad scientist that is Doja Cat. She’s in true alien form here: a raunchy freak, cooing baby, helium sucker, and frantic spitter over a galaxy of ice-cold trap melodies. Lyrics like “I don’t play with my pen / I mean what I writе” and “Oh, wait, you a fan of the magic? / Poof, pussy like an Alakazam” is Doja getting deep in her cocky rap bag and it’s exciting to hear.
If Doja Cat’s multiple live performances that highlight her classically trained dance skills, the feast of music videos that call back to the glory days of Busta Rhymes and Missy Elliott, or the expertly twisted wordplay weren’t enough, then Planet Her will solidify her star status. As Earth continues to slowly crumble — from climate change to social injustices — I’ll gladly book a one-way ticket and escape to Planet Her.
Planet Her is out now via Kemosabe Records/RCA Records. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Since 2016, HER has been serving up top-shelf R&B. Mixing emotional tales with potent production, her music has been a vessel of vulnerability. Whether waxing poetic about insecurities in love or crooning about political injustices, HER has mastered the ability to communicate the complexities of womanhood (especially one of Black and Filipino origins) and attempts to make messages out of her messes.
With the release of her proper debut album, Back Of My Mind, via MBK Entertainment/RCA Records, she delivers a melodic memoir of uncomfortable truths, sharing the parts of HER that carry weight. The only difference between this set and her previous projects: she’s made more figures and thus attracted more triggers. But material wealth has only given her more material to work with.
For context, HER was an industry mystery five years ago. Before stating one’s pronouns became standard practice, the singer/songwriter emerged with only a photo of a silhouette and ironically, a name that stood for “Having Everything Revealed.” Equipped with a velvety voice, the HER package included all-inclusive R&B at a time when the genre was commingling with rap, experimenting with alternative styles, or leaning into nostalgia. To this day, she says people fail to recognize her without her trademark shades.
The mysterious chanteuse turned out to be Gabi Wilson, the Vallejo, California native who had been performing since she was a child. She has released two compilation albums, comprising two sets of EPs — 2016’s HER: Volume 1 and 2018’s I Used To Know HER: The Prelude and I Used to Know Her: Part 2 — that solidified her star power. The awards and opportunities followed in abundance: four Grammys, an Oscar, five Soul Train Awards, an MTV Video Music Award, a Netflix movie cameo, soundtrack and TV show placements, brand endorsements, numerous collaborations and performances on national stages, including the BET Awards, the Super Bowl, and the Country Music Awards.
It may seem strange that the accolades would precede an artist’s official debut but HER’s Back Of My Mind is a portrait of perhaps the most triumphant and mentally challenging season of her career. The 21-track LP pops the cork with the celebratory “We Made It,” a Dom Perignon toast to the stress and blessings, both past and present.
The tone shifts by track two with the album’s namesake featuring Ty Dolla $ign, setting up the emotional obstacle course that dominates the debut. Lyrically, the tracks sound like transcripts of conversations that live in HER’s head. While her image has been equated with success, her moments of weakness and self-doubt are repurposed into motivation throughout the album. HER and featured guest Lil Baby wave off the haters and honor the hustler’s mentality on “Find A Way.” “Trauma,” co-starring Cordae on their second song together and produced by Hit-Boy, harps on what could be BOMM’s tagline: “I take it personal, I ain’t perfect though.”
In spite of her imperfections, HER’s pen is mightiest when the category is love, especially the unrequited kind. Among the highlights include “Cheat Code,” a guitar-driven joint with a writing credit from Julia Michaels (who’s penned songs for Selena Gomez, Fifth Harmony, and herself) that puts a cheater on blast and “Mean It,” where HER also strums her pain caused by an ain’t-sh*t lover.
As a result of her L’s in romance, HER proceeds to plaster caution tape all over her heart. The album’s lead single “Damage” (which samples the ‘80s classic “Making Love In The Rain” by Herb Alpert, Lisa Keith, and Janet Jackson) is a delicate plea to her partner to handle HER with care. On the Goapele-inspired “Closer To Me,” HER craves reassurance in a shaky situation while “Hard To Love” outlines the kind of concerns that drive couples to therapy, solo or together. To keep the rotation spicy, HER also lends her version of hot girl summer anthems with the YG-assisted standout “Slide,“ the sneaky link-ready “Come Through” and a late-night rendezvous with Yung Bleu on “Paradise.”
Elsewhere, HER takes issue with the state of the world. The Thundercat-assisted “Bloody Waters” borrows the formula from her Academy Award-winning “Fight For You” (included on the score for the highly praised drama Judas And The Black Messiah) by wrapping political messages in a weighted blanket of funk and pain that soothes yet aches. HER’s state-of-mind, though, is probably best summed up on “Exhausted.” Producer extraordinaire Rodney “Darkchild” Jerkins lends his magic to the whew-worthy track that finds HER as a woman who’s had enough: “I’m way, way, way, way past bein’ jaded / And all of y’all just way too opinionated / I’m just sayin’, when do I get a say?”
On the DJ Khaled and Bryson Tiller collaboration “I Can Have It All,” HER gets the chance to talk her sh*t: “I know they say, ‘Money’ll make you change’ / That’s ’cause they can’t handle the price of fame / And while you was fantasizin’ ’bout chains / I was plottin’ on a way to buy my momma a house one day.” Although HER’s image was built on mystique, the narratives that fuel her music are familiar stories of shame, fears, and the growing pains that ultimately lead to clarity. Having means and good karma may have jacked up the price for her shows but it’s evident that even an artist of her caliber can’t afford peace of mind sometimes. But as long as she speaks her mind into a mic, those of us listening can at least try to have these crucial conversations with ourselves.
Back Of My Mind is out now via MBK Entertainment/RCA Records. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
In the lead-up to releasing his new album, Hall Of Fame, Polo G gave an interview with Complex in which he restricted the possibility of collaboration with elite rappers like J. Cole and Kendrick Lamar to one crucial condition: his own improvement as a straightforward, bars-first spitter. Now, having heard Hall Of Fame in its entirety, I can confidently say that he was being way too modest and he’s not as far away from that upper echelon as he seems to think. In fact, the best moments on the album come when he operates in that mode more than any other.
That isn’t to say that he should shrink his focus or his drive for more mainstream, playlist-friendly hits. If anything, he shows that he has the versatility to tackle a wide range of subjects and styles — or at least, he will, with a tad bit more practice. For now, songs like “For The Love Of New York” feel out of his reach and out of place with an album that sticks mostly to Polo’s established talents: Painting pictures of his tormented, Windy City upbringing and the dreams of excavating something of value from the scenes of carnage.
That’s the rather literal note on which the album opens. “Painting Pictures” might be on the nose as a song title, but it’s also fitting, as Polo fleshes out the characters that have populated his world as a former resident of Old Town Chicago, where the infamous Cabrini-Green high-rise projects used to tower. “Lil Wooski ain’t your average teen, he see the opps, gon’ bang it out,” he rhapsodizes somberly. “They killed Lamp, he took three with him, they all know what your name about.”
But it’s not all melancholy. Polo’s circumstances are in a state of transition, which is reflected in the project’s cover. As opposed to the dark, moody cover images for Die A Legend and GOAT, the cover for Hall Of Fame is brighter, echoing the sentiments expressed on songs like “Rapstar” and “Fame & Riches” featuring Roddy Ricch. Polo is literally and figuratively moving out of a dark place in his life, trying to maintain his optimism for the future as he acknowledges the trauma and turmoil in his past (see: “No Return” with Lil Durk). But in doing so, he’s faced with a dilemma — an enviable one, to be sure, but a dilemma nonetheless.
As with many young stars on the precipice of greatness — he’s certainly set the bar high enough, with his album titles telling us exactly how he wants to be seen when all is said and done — he’s got a decision to make about how best to get there. On the one hand, if he sticks with what got him here, he can appease longtime, day-one fans, and build on their goodwill with increasingly polished craftsmanship a la heroes like Cole, Kendrick, and Lil Wayne, who Polo goes bar-for-bar with on “Gang Gang.” Like Cole and Kendrick, though, this means struggle: Struggle with meeting fans’ admittedly hazy standards for greatness; struggle with mental health and anxiety as he dwells on such traumatic material and the pressure to live up to his and fans’ expectations; struggle to connect on a commercial level.
Both Cole and Kendrick were well into the second decades of their respective careers before achieving their first No.1s. Polo already has, so there’s going to be added pressure to continue to perform, and proportional ridicule should he be perceived to decline or stall out. Fans will demand growth but will reject it if it doesn’t come on their terms. Polo’s insistence that he needs to get better at the craft before attempting to work with these elders suggests that he understands this.
However, pursuing playlist exposure and radio hits has its own dangers. As with some of the sunnier songs in this set, such pop reaches can clash with his already established image as a survivor of Chicago’s trenches. He’s managed to balance commercial viability with that image so far thanks to his breakout hit “Pop Out” and songs like “Rapstar,” but should popular trends shift even a little, he may be out of luck. He already faces criticism of his beat choices, which find him more often than not rapping in a torn legato cadence over moody pianos, but stepping out of his comfort zone means risking the ire of day-ones. Remaining in it means competing with similar acts like Rod Wave, with whom he’s wisely collaborated twice (once on Wave’s SoulFly and once here on “Heart Of A Giant”) to provide a contrast test for their respective sounds, but the lane is still rapidly filling up, and we’ve seen how quickly tastes can change within hip-hop.
Hall Of Fame positions Polo to make either of these choices well enough while also highlighting the potential danger in choosing either. It also shows that they are not mutually exclusive. He shows mastery of the pen on the upbeat tracks and mostly good instincts on the pop reaches (the Nicki Minaj feature notwithstanding). Now, I think, the important thing for him to do is put some distance between his projects — three lengthy releases in back-to-back years leave him with little life experience to speak on and expand his range of topics, which is something he’ll want to do to achieve the sort of longevity that will lead to him fulfilling his dream of making it to the hallowed halls of rap’s greatest of all time.
Hall Of Fame is out now via Columbia Records. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Shelley — the Virginia artist formerly known as DRAM — is not in the midst of a rebrand. Those who met the singer-slash-rapper with his breakout single “Broccoli” or even his groovy fun-spirited effort, “Cha Cha,” might think so, especially after finishing his second album, Shelley FKA DRAM. However, a deeper look into his discography brings us to efforts like “Caretaker” and “Best Hugs,” proof that Shelley’s soulful agenda has long been entwined in his DNA.
So what do we make of Shelley’s new album? Perhaps it’s a new chapter in his career, but that again plays into the “rebrand” idea that underscores the aged talents he presents on Shelley FKA DRAM. Instead, settling on an acceptance of one’s identity seems to be a much more fitting label for this project. Its ten songs detail Shelley’s shoulder-shrug that precedes a cannonball jump into a journey through the good and bad of love.
Shelley FKA DRAM tells a story of a love so beautiful and wholehearted that it’s worth spending a lifetime dreaming about. Its delicate songwriting wraps its warm hand around the tender production Shelley uses to paint a picture of intimacy to a degree so high that it often seems too good to be true. “Exposure” delivers words that would easily land you the woman or man of your dreams, no matter how many leagues away they might be. “The Lay Down” with HER brings the sounds and atmosphere of bedroom magic for a fiery and passion-exploding anecdote that ends with the fireworks of Watt’s searing electric guitar solo.
In between these songs comes a thought from Shelley. “Isn’t love just beautiful?” he ponders at the end of “Something About Us.” “I mean, every aspect of it / From the pursuit, you know the cold sh*t part / To actually feeling and embracing it.” And you know what? Shelley’s right. It is beautiful to sprout a connection, taking a romantic trip to wherever the heart chooses to go. Unfortunately, the journey isn’t guaranteed to last a lifetime, and the second half of Shelley FKA DRAM sees him become victim to what proves to be a flimsy promise in companionship. It all crashes and burns on “Cooking With Grease” and while he dusts himself off to start all over on “Remedies,” things aren’t the same.
Shelley approaches love with no guard to get around and without a wall to climb over. He makes it quite clear just minutes into the album. “Since we not stoppin’ ourselves,” he sings on “All Pride Aside” which features a sultry contribution from Summer Walker. “I’ll keep lettin’ you if you keep lettin’ me.” Pride blocks some of a relationship’s most necessary qualities from existent: vulnerability, communication, and compassion, just to name a few. Disposing of it is always easier said than done, and when one does, the highs of love feel really high, but its lows hurt more than anything else.
There’s a line on “The Lay Down” that sticks out to me like no other on Shelley FKA DRAM. “Can’t blow my high on airplane mode,” Shelley and HER sing at different points of the song. Life’s moments are what you make of them and not for anyone else to dictate. Keep your head in the clouds because anyone who’s up there with you understands the absolute glory in that. As for those stuck on the ground, they’re not to be worried about because you’re too out of reach for them to pull you down. This same philosophy takes life with Shelley’s sophomore album. As many may have tried to box him in as the artist we hear on “Broccoli,” he dictated his own life and artistry, accepted an identity he always knew he had, and gave the world an album that came from the heart’s core.
Shelley FKA DRAM is out now via EMPIRE/Atlantic. Get it here.
Shelley is a Warner Music artist. Uproxx is an independent subsidiary of Warner Music Group.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
On his new album Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma, New Jersey rapper Topaz Jones tries to address some heavy questions. Five years removed from his solitary 2016 hit “Tropicana,” Jones pondered the implications of possibly having a platform with no substance; that isn’t to say that he didn’t have an interesting story to tell, he just had to figure out how to tell it.
In an interview with Rolling Stone, he said, “Now that I have a platform to tell my story, [I had] to really reckon with, well, ‘What is my story? What made me the person I am? What things about myself come from me directly? What things are passed down from my relatives? What’s my generational trauma?’ That was a whole lot of shit to balance out.”
Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma is the result of that introspection, and the method by which Jones ultimately resolved how to best answer those questions: A short film of the same name, detailing his upbringing in Montclair, New Jersey, combining magic realism, documentary, and even edutainment television to place his life in historical, familial, and cultural contexts.
The album, sprinkled with audio clips from the film in which his family members recount beloved anecdotes and dynastic legends, spins out of those ideas to verbally expound Jones’ thoughts on subjects like love, legacy, history, racism, hustling, and dreaming of a better life. Over the 13 whimsical, groovy, lush, and occasionally disorienting tracks, he doesn’t necessarily find all the answers, but then again, this was always more of a “finding yourself in the journey” proposition anyway.
Production-wise, Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma is something of a masterpiece. It’s rare that any artist puts so much thought into instrumentation and expansive genre exploration — especially with how much territory technology has opened up. Jones charts paths through spacey grooves on “Baba 70s,” “Gold,” and “Blue,” incites some hip-wiggling on the dancey “Amphetamines” and “Herringbone,” and stank faces his way through a thicket of throwback, funky hip-hop on “Who?” with Maxo and Phonte Coleman and album closer “Buggin’.”
The live instrumentation evokes smokey lounges, and darkened basement parties from the 1970s, only more timeless. Musically, the technique reinforces the lyrical links Jones traces throughout his family history and nostalgic narratives. The exquisite soundscapes could easily overwhelm a less adept lyricist, but Jones has clearly been using the time since his 2016 album Arcade to sharpen his pen game.
On “Buggin’,” Jones deftly details a twitchy tableau that could just as easily be a scene set in any hood in America, threading a neat metaphorical connection to insects throughout the narrative the way an auteur might draw the eye to a physical placeholder for a conceptual thought — as only befits a rapper turned director turned back to rapper, explaining his vision with dense wordplay and scintillating twists of the tongue.
Likewise, Topaz lets the syllables spill over each other in his verses on “Mirror,” a self-effacing reintroduction to both longtime listeners and potential new fans that highlights his polished gift for both setting a scene and impressing with dazzling displays of verbose wit. On “Herringbone,” he describes a family reunion in such charming, achingly familiar terms, you might be able to taste the collard greens and smell the macaroni baking in the oven.
Throughout the album, the rhymes sit so snugly within the pockets of the soulful beats that listening becomes nearly interactive; Topaz invites you in, and rewards your interest in every unexpected turn of phrase and tempo change. The tales he tells are personal but relatable; he could just as easily be telling any listener’s story, or that of a cousin, brother, or neighbor at a family reunion, recounting the events of the spell since the last get-together.
And that’s really the answer, told both through the film and the album. Our experiences are universal because the same things move us. The same things are important to us. We can put ourselves in Topaz’s shoes just as easily as he can put himself in ours; the same holds true across generations, geography, and any other line we can draw between ourselves and anyone else. Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma is a story about the stories we tell each other and ourselves, the ones that are told to us, and the ones that tell us who we are.
Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma is out now via New Funk Academy / Black Canopy. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
On his new album Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Mama, New Jersey rapper Topaz Jones tries to address some heavy questions. Five years removed from his solitary 2016 hit “Tropicana,” Jones pondered the implications of possibly having a platform with no substance; that isn’t to say that he didn’t have an interesting story to tell, he just had to figure out how to tell it.
In an interview with Rolling Stone, he said, “Now that I have a platform to tell my story, [I had] to really reckon with, well, ‘What is my story? What made me the person I am? What things about myself come from me directly? What things are passed down from my relatives? What’s my generational trauma?’ That was a whole lot of shit to balance out.”
Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Mama is the result of that introspection, and the method by which Jones ultimately resolved how to best answer those questions: A short film of the same name, detailing his upbringing in Montclair, New Jersey, combining magic realism, documentary, and even edutainment television to place his life in historical, familial, and cultural contexts.
The album, sprinkled with audio clips from the film in which his family members recount beloved anecdotes and dynastic legends, spins out of those ideas to verbally expound Jones’ thoughts on subjects like love, legacy, history, racism, hustling, and dreaming of a better life. Over the 13 whimsical, groovy, lush, and occasionally disorienting tracks, he doesn’t necessarily find all the answers, but then again, this was always more of a “finding yourself in the journey” proposition anyway.
Production-wise, Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Mama is something of a masterpiece. It’s rare that any artist puts so much thought into instrumentation and expansive genre exploration — especially with how much territory technology has opened up. Jones charts paths through spacey grooves on “Baba 70s,” “Gold,” and “Blue,” incites some hip-wiggling on the dancey “Amphetamines” and “Herringbone,” and stank faces his way through a thicket of throwback, funky hip-hop on “Who?” with Maxo and Phonte Coleman and album closer “Buggin’.”
The live instrumentation evokes smokey lounges, and darkened basement parties from the 1970s, only more timeless. Musically, the technique reinforces the lyrical links Jones traces throughout his family history and nostalgic narratives. The exquisite soundscapes could easily overwhelm a less adept lyricist, but Jones has clearly been using the time since his 2016 album Arcade to sharpen his pen game.
On “Buggin’,” Jones deftly details a twitchy tableau that could just as easily be a scene set in any hood in America, threading a neat metaphorical connection to insects throughout the narrative the way an auteur might draw the eye to a physical placeholder for a conceptual thought — as only befits a rapper turned director turned back to rapper, explaining his vision with dense wordplay and scintillating twists of the tongue.
Likewise, Topaz lets the syllables spill over each other in his verses on “Mirror,” a self-effacing reintroduction to both longtime listeners and potential new fans that highlights his polished gift for both setting a scene and impressing with dazzling displays of verbose wit. On “Herringbone,” he describes a family reunion in such charming, achingly familiar terms, you might be able to taste the collard greens and smell the macaroni baking in the oven.
Throughout the album, the rhymes sit so snugly within the pockets of the soulful beats that listening becomes nearly interactive; Topaz invites you in, and rewards your interest in every unexpected turn of phrase and tempo change. The tales he tells are personal but relatable; he could just as easily be telling any listener’s story, or that of a cousin, brother, or neighbor at a family reunion, recounting the events of the spell since the last get-together.
And that’s really the answer, told both through the film and the album. Our experiences are universal because the same things move us. The same things are important to us. We can put ourselves in Topaz’s shoes just as easily as he can put himself in ours; the same holds true across generations, geography, and any other line we can draw between ourselves and anyone else. Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Mama is a story about the stories we tell each other and ourselves, the ones that are told to us, and the ones that tell us who we are.
Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma is out now via New Funk Academy / Black Canopy. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Collaboration is nothing without chemistry. It’s why when a superstar athlete joins a new team, critics question if success will be attained or things will crumble into failure. When a group effort sees each member recognizing and making up for one another’s weaknesses, more times than not, art in its most beautiful form arrives, leaving its consumers to stand starry-eyed to take in the new experience. Elsewhere, doubters rush to eat their words in an attempt to hide them and avoid having to own up to their wrongs. It’s this excellent chemistry in collaboration that lives on Van Buren Records’ debut album, Bad For Press.
The thirteen-track effort compiles some of the best hip-hop talents Massachusetts has to offer. The heavy-muscled collective includes names like Luke Bars and Saint Lyor, who both caught attention in 2020 for their respective GoodEvil and If My Sins Could Talk. Jiles is the epitome of a flower blooming in a dark room, as his sinister verses both rattle and enthrall listeners. Meech, Andrew Regis, and Lord Felix punch jaws and dizzy minds with their bars while Ricky Felix and Kiron create the ideal landscape for the rappers to go berzerk in.
Bad For Press arrives with a “yeah, so what?” sneer from the Van Buren collective. Suits & ties with smiles never fit the group’s desired aesthetic like a mean mug and slight tilt of the head do. Just two songs into the project, “Braindead” captures the groups overwhelming audacity towards anything that steps before them. Lyor’s straight-faced hook delivers a message within the words that menacingly leave his mouth: this is not a group you want to spar with. Similar sentiments arrive on “Medic,” a song that sonically warns of impending danger all for the Van Buren rappers to be the individuals to make these fears a reality.
On the album, individual egos aren’t left outside the door, rather, they’re combined into some supernatural force that entwines itself with the words the group raps throughout the albums. So when songs like “It Is What It Is” or “No Interview” pierce through your headphones, it’s a huge disservice to ignore the talent, energy, and persona that are packaged into what is the Van Buren collective. Both tracks encapsulate the rambunctious energy the group would present onstage in a perfect pandemic-less world, but simply hearing them rapping their asses off makes this impending moment all that more desirable.
Despite the strong-armed reinforcement Van Buren delivers on the album, there are moments where the aggression is replaced with reflection and an effort to look into the past and see how far they’ve made it. “Looking For Trouble” opens the memories of their turbulent youth that Lyor describes best, rapping, “I be looking for trouble, I had nothing else to do.” Luckily for them, things have changed for the better. Van Buren also documents their struggle to thaw their cold hearts to receive the warmth of love on “Nevermind” while “Outro” is a smooth landing that ties an elegant bow around the wild ride Bad For Press is. In letting their guard down for a few moments, Van Buren effectively proves why it was up in the first place.
Bad For Press could be dissected in many ways. You could focus on individual talents and applaud Bars’ show-stealing verse to close “Gangbanger (Remix)” or Andrew Regis’ knife-wielding bars on “Medic.” There’s Meech’s slick-talk over Ricky Felix’s best-produced song with “No Interviews” and Jiles’ cutthroat contribution to “Braindead.” Not to mention Lyor’s honest tales on “Looking For Trouble” as well. However, this approach overlooks and diminishes the best thing about Van Buren: the fact that these individual qualities, which vary in presence and effectiveness on each song, contribute to the gleaming pot of gold that represents the Massachusetts rappers and all their glory. If Van Buren thinks they’re Bad For Press so be it, we could use more artists who embrace going against the grain.
Bad For Press is out now via Van Buren Records. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Exactly a year and two days ago, Kenny Mason arrived on the music scene as part fiery lyricist, part rock star, and part rookie of the year contender. This all came with the release of his debut project, Angelic Hoodrat, which arrived in the midst of worldwide chaos and confusion as the coronavirus pandemic began its second month of existence in the United States. Despite this and a slight moment of reconsideration, the Atlanta native dropped the album in what proved to be a well-executed move.
The title that is Angelic Hoodrat carries a duality that is hard to miss in Mason’s music. His ability to move effortlessly between songs that are influenced by today’s hip-hop to that of which carry a heavy rock influence are just half of the recipe. This duality is also formed from Mason making the best of both worlds, one that represents the struggle that once was and another that is the current success he indulges in. For the rapper himself, this was all intentional and he’s happy to see that fans have continued to receive the project
“I think it translated almost exactly like how I wanted it to,” he said during a call with Uproxx. “People that like my stuff, they get it, they understand the duality of the title and within the music too and I’m really happy about that.” That duality gets to live again through a new edition of his debut project, Angelic Hoodrat: Supercut. The 12-track effort sees appearances from the likes of Freddie Gibbs, Denzel Curry, and more. Along with its arrival, Mason sat down with Uproxx for a conversation surrounding the project, standing out on the Atlanta rap scene, and what success means to him.
You just hit the one-year anniversary mark of Angelic Hoodrat. How has the last year been like for you?
Overall it’s been exciting. I know it’s a pandemic and that messed up a lot of plans that we had, but it also was cool, because I got to make more music. I may have not even had a Supercut if I didn’t just have time to sit down and make it. I be trying to find the good in everything and I feel like it was still some good that came out of having to be home. I’m blessed too, it was people that ain’t have jobs or lost their jobs and all type of crazy sh*t. I’m blessed, I ain’t got nothing to complain about and I’m really happy that we made some cool stuff during that time.
I love the Angelic Hoodrat title and how it’s an oxymoron that you relate to yourself. Why’d you pick that specific title and what meaning does it hold for you in your life?
Well, the title came from a bar I had in a song that’s not coming out. I thought it was just something cool to say, because I always liked stuff with a general religious tone, not heavenly or not specific, but just an aura of feeling angelic or ethereal, stuff like that. I’m also Zone 3, it just goes hand-in-hand, but it really did grow because that was like 3-4 years ago when I say that line and then my homeboy was like, “That should be the title of a song or a project.” So I always kept in mind and then the meaning just grew like “Yo, I’m really got a duality to myself.” I’m discovering that more and I’m discovering it more sonically too in my music and conceptually, so it grew into his own thing.
What is the key music-related moment or moments that took place in your life that’s also foundational towards the artist you are today?
I think like the area I grew up in, my sort of love-hate, ultimately love, relationship with my environments, the environments that I was in. I understand certain things that happened to me that seemed bad or just moments of adversity helped me grow and prepare me for life in general because life ain’t easy for nobody. I don’t think life gets easier, I think you just learn how to deal with it better. I have to be grateful for things that I’ve learned, but I also know why these areas are the way they are, historically too, and I know, psychologically, why people do things they do, or act the way they act, or make the decisions they make. I struggle with my sort of resentment with being a product of that and feeling like I didn’t have a choice, but also I feel extremely liberated because I know my destiny is up to me. Depending on my attitude or how I look at certain situations, I can grow from it and that’s real liberating, too.
You come from a city that thrives in the realm of trap rap (Young Thug, Future, Young Nudy, Gunna, etc.) and more traditional rappers (Deante Hitchcock, JID, etc.), but you stick out in this scene and your album is proof of that. How have you been able to find comfort in this space?
I think it might be, as far as what I’m into, it may be a generational thing of kids that grew up on the internet or having the access to explore stuff that I like outside of what’s going on in my neighborhood. I grew up in Westside Atlanta and in my teenage years, I came up in Zone 3, folks like [Young] Thug, they’re from Zone 3, but also, I was on YouTube listening to Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins, and My Chemical Romance. I was listening to stuff that I can’t go outside and hear, but I’m on the internet and I can explore it as deep as I want to know. I’ve always been that way when I like something, I indulge in it all the way. I try to find every bit of it and anything close to it, I try to explore all that. It’s the most like that when it comes to music and different types of sounds and sonics. I’ll find an artist and then I’ll find every artist that had anything to do with that artist. That’s combined with me just being in the city and stuff that’s already right there.
So you really just found the best of both worlds.
Yeah, and it happened naturally. Even now, I’m not trying to make grunge music or whatever, I like the way that this sounds, the beat is going this way, and I got these words to say over it and then it comes out that way. I’m blessed enough to have the patience to make it cohesive. I gotta know myself to be able to make it make sense.
What are some attributes and messages for yourself that you require to be present in the music you create?
That sh*t just gotta hit bro, that sh*t just gotta hit me. It gotta be very honest and it is a little bit of premeditation as far as the overall outline conceptually, but I don’t put too much pressure on trying to make it a storyline per se or a narrative. I don’t want to force the listener into a narrative, I want everybody to have their own narrative to it cause that’s what great art is to me, or so I’ve been told. That’ll get better too, I’ll have more of an understanding on that as I go too. It just gotta connect bro, the connection comes in different forms, it may come in really intricate lyricist rapping and it may come in like me screaming over some metal sh*t. It may come with me singing over acoustic guitars, like whatever way it comes, as long as it connects and it’s honest, I’m gonna rock with it.
How do you define success and does failure or the possibility of it worry you?
I don’t really believe in failure. I just think that people just stop, that’s all. You know? I guess you only fail when you die without doing what you wanted to do. Even that, you gon’ want to do a lot of things and you probably won’t do everything. I think it’s knowing that you tried, knowing that you gave your all, that’s success. Personally, I want to make a real connection with my art to as many people as possible. When I say I want to be like the number one artist in the world, that’s what I mean. I want to connect to as many people as possible with my art and the true intention of my art and make things that last here beyond me. When I’m gone, the things that I created are still inspiring people way after. I would like to make some stuff that in 1000 years, kids are still interested in — in the most humble way possible. That’s something to keep in mind when I hit this mic, I want to live forever through it.
Who do you credit to helping you stay on the path you’re on now?
It’s a community of people, everybody in their own way keeps me motivated. Even people that get mad at me and sh*t, that keeps me motivated too like, okay, I gotta prove them wrong timesheet. My homeboy Detail, who’s also my manager, he always gives me really good advice. He always refers me to sources that he gets advice from or things that keep him in a good mindset. My mama, telling me she’s proud of me, that means a whole lot, probably more than she knows, that’ll light up my day. My partners, cause a lot of stuff I talk about my music, they went through it with me and imma always know my perspective, but it’s interesting hearing their perspective on stuff that we went through, but also their perspective or revisiting through my music. It’s a cycle of life, it’s like a hyper experience. We become more self-aware the more that we do that and that’s inspiring. I get to have a shared experience and it’ll deepen what I learned from it.
For the past few years now, there’s been an increased rock presence in the hip-hop scene, whether it be on the light side or the heavy metal end. How do you feel about some of your influences and others having a spot in hip-hop?
I think that sh*t hard. It inspires me too cause I think I’ve focused more so on the sonics of stuff like the actual sounds and tones. Some people like more so the look or the vibe or the swag. I wouldn’t say I got like a rock star swag, that aint’ really my swag, but I love the sounds and textures of that music and I think that the sonics is what I’m most interested in. But rap music has always been the most diverse genre and it never really got its credit because of whatever. I think that it’s always been influenced by other genres, I always think it’s been a culmination of the other genres. It’s the youngest genre so it’s the little brother to everything. I think that it being recognized is something that is gonna progress rap to be whatever it want to be. These artists that are running rap, they’re gonna be whatever they want to be and I think that’s great.
So with Angelic Hoodrat: Supercut, I see you have a feature from Freddie Gibbs. How did that come about?
Well the thing about it is, I put the song out, it was on YouTube, it wasn’t on other streaming services. I just put it out because I thought it was a cool freestyle, just a vibe type sh*t. Then, my folks was like “Freddie Gibbs hopped on that sh*t,” and I was like oh what the f*ck?. He’s one of my favorite rappers of this time and just period, like buddy’s fire as f*ck lyrically and mood-wise, you already know I love that sh*t. So it was like, damn, this man got on this sh*t and he didn’t have to. I’m a new artist bro, he didn’t have to do that, but he did, so I got unlimited respect for him and I’m dumb excited about it. But yeah, he just hopped on one of mine sh*ts and I was just like, bro, we gon’ but this sh*t on the project.
You’re someone that comes off as very grounded, not too extra or one that will wild out. What excites Kenny Mason? What gets him out of that shell even if it’s for 5 or 10 minutes?
I be rowdy bro, like not rowdy, but I be turning up. It’s just that if I’m talking to somebody or trying to answer the questions, I really want to just think about what I say because a lot of people gon’ hear this and I want to make sure that whatever I intend to say, I say. I be walking around the house talking sh*t. Probably at the shows, I think people really see I be turning up for real. Like on Instagram, I’ve watched people take selfies or be on Live or just be in their phone and it’s real natural and just easy as cake to them, but I be thinking too much about that sh*t, I don’t be knowing if the sh*t look right. I think it’s cool because everybody that follows me, pretty much just follows me for music, which I like. I like that don’t nobody follow me for no extra sh*t because then I would have to keep doing extra sh*t.
What do you look forward to the most next? What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned with your debut that you’ll apply to chapter 2 of your artistry?
Number one is shows, I’m really just trying to be really optimistic about when we’ll be able to do it and for how long I’ll be able to do them. I really would like to be on some kind of tour for a long time and letting people experience the project live because going into Angelic, that’s how I envisioned it. I figured people would like it but I think people will have a deeper level of love for it if they experience it live. I’m looking and I’m also looking forward to dropping more music. After Supercut, I’m still gonna be dropping music, imma just keep dropping, but it’ll be a minute before the next project. I want to just still put out music to build up for them. I think, as far as learning, I definitely learned the run of being an artist and putting out a project, I wasn’t familiar with that. Even these interview parts, these are all still new. I know going into the next one how to premeditated more on everything because with Angelic Hoodrat, I’m really glad people love it and connect with it. People tell me every day that it’s changing their life and I love that, that’s my true intention, but it really was an experiment for me. It really was me trying stuff and I know my next project will be way more intentional, premeditated, and planned. I look forward to that being shown.
Angelic Hoodrat: Supercut is out now via RCA Records. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
There’s no shortage of confidence on Lil Tjay’s latest full-length album, Destined 2 Win. The 22-year-old Bronx, New York native arrived with the assurance of an upperclassman on his swaggering debut, True 2 Myself, in 2018 and the scuffs and scrapes he’s taken since have done little to dull the sparkle in his eye as he guides the listener through 21 tracks displaying his wide-ranging abilities. However, you know how the saying goes: a Jack of all trades is a master of none, and that aphorism holds true despite the poise with which Tjay bears himself on his shape-shifting sophomore album.
There’s a lot to be said for the sort of confidence Tjay projects here. Some of us go 30 years or more without ever finding the level of intoxicating self-belief that allows him to write song titles like “Born 2 Be Great” without a hint of irony. Of course, self-belief and self-awareness seldom go hand-in-hand; whether that’s a boon to this album or a drawback depends on your point of view. I’m ambivalent; on one hand, I’m impressed by how deftly he dips into each stylistic tureen from which he draws his inspiration. On the other hand, I really wish that his own artistic voice would cut through the noise more distinctly, showing us who he is both as an artist and a person.
For instance, as Tjay metamorphoses, chameleonlike, between hood motivational speaker on propulsive tracks like “Hood Rich” and “Run It Up” and heartbroken, crooning lothario on “Irregular Love” and “Calling My Phone,” it gets increasingly difficult to pin down a unique worldview or dodge the sense that we’ve heard all this before. However, there’s an undeniable polish and panache to the proceedings that lends the sense that Tjay really put a lot of thought and effort into these songs to make them sound as catchy and captivating as possible.
When Tjay wants to party, “Move” and “Oh Well” provide plenty of the body-first, brain-second energy that makes such tracks work at their highest levels, then, when he tells us “Love Hurts,” he makes us believe him, worrying such juicy lyrical bones as “I see you postin’, that just put me on alert.” He’s certainly a product of his generation, pain-watching an ex’s social media and reacting in real-time, even as he admits “I know you feedin’ off of what I started first.”
Wearing his inspirations on his sleeve can bite him at times; his outright Drake impression on “Born 2 Be Great” is a microcosm of how much his flow treads in the footsteps of his forebears — ones who still have firm grasps on the pop culture zeitgeist. It also highlights just how little actual innovation he’s doing here. The singsong delivery he uses for most of the project has more-or-less been done to death and the beats, with their church bell chimes and menacing major chords, provide suitably ominous backdrops for his middling boasts and vague threats.
Through it all, his confidence carries, though. There’s a plainspoken earnestness that comes with that lack of self-critique or self-doubt. Few lines will stand out, but he sticks the landing on every one of them. By not taking huge swings, he rarely misses, offering a satisfying listen that doesn’t overstay its welcome, even if the back half of the album tends to drone. At 21 tracks, things could really drag, but instead, he brings the overall run time in at a crisp hour and five minutes, owing most of the dead weight to bonus tracks, which consist of older releases such as the Justin Bieber-sampling “None Of Your Love,” which was likely tacked-on to improve streaming metrics.
Although Destined 2 Win doesn’t offer many surprises or tremendous strides in character development for the burgeoning star, it does its job as a showcase for his burnished songwriting well enough to justify its existence. Eventually, Tjay’s young fan base will want more from him than empty flexes and generic “made it out the struggle” rhymes, and Destined doesn’t do quite enough to convince that he’ll be able to deliver when that time comes. His swagger is enough to coast on for now, with his charm as an artist and gift for imitation giving him a smooth surface to glide on while he figures himself out. Hopefully, no one scratches that surface before he does.
Destined 2 Win is out now on Columbia Records. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Success is never a guaranteed thing. No matter the task, it’s never promised that one will complete it on the first try. This doesn’t mean that it’s unlikely, but rather, it’s a logical expectation when the absolute random ways of the world and how things can play out are taken into consideration. With that being said, we like to think that success will arrive at some point along the way. Even if it takes a million tries, the eventual accomplishment proves that we are capable of getting it done. Unfortunately for Gallant, this self-serving moment doesn’t arrive for him on his latest body of work.
The singer’s Neptune EP presents eight elegant songs that float freely in the spacious night sky. On it, Gallant repeatedly comes up short in tying down a longtime partner for the tumultuous ride that is life. Whether it slips through his hands or flies by when he lets his guard down, he repeatedly plays from behind on Neptune in an attempt to gain ground and capture the very thing that’s escaped him too often.
As elusive as love can be, Gallant’s inability to experience the best of it is due to his faults. Blocking your shot can be extremely frustrating, especially when it occurs as a reflex, and the annoyance of it all only skyrockets when the stakes of said shot are realized. In what sounds like a file uprooted out of Usher’s early 2000s hard drive, Gallant confesses to his wrongs on “Comeback” with the hope that his exiting partner will do just that: return his now-prepared arms where he offers a much better experience for her. “I shouldn’t have ever listened to the demons,” he admits, adding, “You can come back / There’s no better time / I’ll leave on the lights.”
Gallant’s blunders continue with “Julie.” The free-floating track, which could very well be classified as “singing in the rain” music at some points, presents the singer as a klutz whenever love comes his way. Despite these neverending mistakes, he still finds himself in short-lived moments of intimacy with a partner who is very much skeptical about his abilities to not ruin yet another chance with her. While her hesitation is still present, she seems a bit more open to a second stab at it than the partner she sings about on “No More Tries.” Back by a guest appearance from VanJess, who play the role of his exhausted companion, Gallant’s journey towards a fulfilling love is cut short by their command to turn around and take him and his inconsistencies to someone else. “Even if we try / It would only end up causing us more pain,” they sing. “’Cause your love was enough for me until / There was nothing left for both of us to lose.”
It’d be criminal to paint a picture of Gallant’s perceived loneliness as something of his own doing. The singer stumbles across individuals who ruin the few moments he has it together. Take “Dynamite” with Brandy, for example, Gallant deals with a woman who’s both insecure and blinded by the fame and money that surrounds her. Blowing up their lives to the most basic element would be nice but it’s highly unrealistic, something he accepts in the song. Gallant even deals with his frustrations on “Scars.” The uptempo, dance-friendly track is enwrapped with both the physical and emotional pain that the singer carries on his shoulders. He balances nonchalance with discontent with a track that ultimately finds him moving one to the next awaiting soul who is hopefully ready for what he has to offer.
Gallant will eventually figure it out, or hey, maybe he won’t. It’s all up to the singer to tie his laces and finally stop tripping over himself on this winding road towards companionship. At least, in that case, he’ll limit his failures to outside circumstances like inapt companions or just sheer bad luck. Despite these missteps, it’s admirable that he at least recognizes his faults, and with each admission comes the claim that he’s fixed them and is far better. Neptune is filled with ear-pleasing music that encapsulates Gallant’s versatility as a singer. From traditional R&B to alternative sounds and everything in between, Gallant proves that his talents span as wide as the distance between Earth and the planet in which this project was named after.
