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.
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.
The right voice can make even the most generic boasts sound not just convincing but compelling. That’s the lasting impression left by Rod Wave’s third studio album SoulFly after a few listens. Content-wise, the project leaves a lot to the imagination; Rod doesn’t reveal much about himself, his circumstances, or his worldview… but he sounds absolutely great singing his ghetto blues.
There’s oddly little biographical information out there about the trapsoul crooner from St. Petersburg, Florida, which would seem to run counter to the intense fervor he apparently inspires in fans. He doesn’t do interviews and he maintains a relatively low-key social media profile, mostly tweeting the sort of one-line platitudes you’d read on an office poster with a photo of a chimp in a suit.
Yet, his last album, Pray 4 Love, debuted at No. 2 on the Billboard 200 with relatively little promotion from either Rod or his label. SoulFly is reportedly on track to exceed that accomplishment, even though the rollout started with Rod goading his label, threatening to withhold the project unless some kind of dispute involving his pay was sorted out. It apparently was; the rest of the rollout proceeded without a hitch, with Rod dropping two singles, “Street Runner” and “Tombstone,” before dropping the album itself.
Even the music is atypical of most chart-toppers today; aside from one feature from Polo G on the new album, Rod seemingly avoids collaborating with bigger names to expand his fanbase. To date, his highest-profile collaborators appear to be Lil Durk, Lil Baby, and Yo Gotti, the latter duo only being added to the deluxe re-release of Pray 4 Love four months later. He’s an iconoclast in a music landscape where iconoclasts — especially commercially successful ones — are quickly becoming an endangered species.
So what gives? How does a rapper who barely promotes his work, who doesn’t work with other artists, and who doesn’t dazzle with pyrotechnic displays of lyrical wizardry end up fronting the XXL Freshman cover and topping the Billboard charts? After playing back SoulFly multiple times and wrenching my critical brain for something that explains it, there’s only one possibility: That damn voice.
It’s the sort of voice honed in a Baptist pulpit, mellowed by handles of whiskey, and put through its paces by the demands of turning dry missives like “I play the game that was taught to me / I fry the beef that was brought to me” into soulful, blues-inspired croons. It’s a warm, inviting tenor, shot through with just enough vibrato to suggest emotional turmoil, along with a sprinkling of grit, like a pinch of pepper flakes in a salt shaker.
It allows him to convincingly sell hustler narratives and their resulting trauma without getting into the authentic details that you usually need to make them work. To his credit, there are enough true-life tales that undergird the framework of those narratives to hold them up, even when you scratch the surface. On “Pillz And Billz,” he details watching “my cousin smoke crack his whole fuckin’ life,” lamenting, “Fentanyl hit the street and he OD’d the same night.” There are enough truthful moments underlying the boasts that the boasts feel earned.
If these attributes don’t necessarily make Rod Wave a singular artist — his sole guest on SoulFly, Polo G, convincingly uses similar methods in his own work — Rod has the fortuitous timing to exist at a time when he can just be the artist he is, without bothering with courting the algorithms or resorting to attention-grabbing social media shenanigans.
It’s impressive that there are still artists who can do it with just a voice. While there’s not a tremendous amount of true introspection or innovation on SoulFly, there is, however, a supreme level of self-assurance and technical craftsmanship. What Rod lacks in wit he makes up in emotion, and where his stories lack detail, he imbues them with a powerful sincerity that makes them read just as truthfully, resonating as deeply as an impressionist portrait. Maybe at a time when cryptocurrency is the future and math runs just about every aspect of our day-to-day lives, what people really want — really need — is music with some soul
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.
Trevor Jackson is someone I’ve watched grow up before my eyes. From his role as Kris McDuffy, a teenage best friend to an aspiring rapper, in Disney Channel’s 2012 film, Let It Shine, to playing the much more mature young man that is Aaron Jackson in Freeform’s Grown-ish, Trevor has been a star for much of his life. However, it’s not at all limited to his acting career. The multi-talented Indiana native is also a growing singer whose music career improves with each step he takes into adulthood.
The 24-year-old just released his third album, The Love Language and it’s a 14-track effort that explores the ways to receive and give affection to your partner. His commitment to being all and more for his companion comes alive on “Your Everything,” and even when the door for love hasn’t opened yet as we hear on “Just Friends,” Trevor’s willingness to pour his heart out, like he does on “This Won’t Go Viral,” tends to serve him well.
However, it’s not always green pastures and pretty flowers for the singer, but simply expressing his emotions and being sensitive through music is something he’s happy to do. “That’s how I feel about music and this album in particular,” he said during our phone call. “Just really kind of opening up about love and not being afraid to be sensitive as a black man in life, in general, is kind of like frowned upon.”
The courage towards being sensitive is found throughout The Love Language. In an interview with Uproxx, Trevor spoke about the new album, playing Aaron Jackson on Grown-ish, his own love languages, and more.
You’re someone who’s always busy. Between acting and music, it seems like there’s always something on your plate. However, with the pandemic, I assume you ended up with more time on your hands. How did you cope with that?
I think it was a message from God for me personally in my life, because I have a hard time taking breaks and tending to myself. I feel like I’m always trying to do the next thing, so it was really just like, sit down, who are you outside of your career, outside of music, outside of acting, who are you as a man? Who do you want to be as a man? What are you willing to do to obtain those things? So it was truly transformational for me, the whole pandemic, unfortunately, under unfortunate circumstances, but due to it, I was able to kind of really just see myself. I surfed a lot, I reflected a lot, I just got to find out who I was more as a man which then enabled me to make music in a different way, in a more honest way, and in a more vulnerable way.
The Love Language is your next body of work, which comes after your Rough Drafts, Pt. 1 and Rough Drafts, Pt. 2 projects. Going off that “rough draft” idea, what are some of the things that you feel you’ve improved or even perfected in your artistry?
I think the songwriting is some of my best work. I called it Love Language because music is my love language. I also think that, you know, love is like a drug and it can be good or it can be bad, but it’s never one or the other all the time. It’s never always good and it’s never always bad. Love is like life a lot of times, it’s gonna be up, it’s gonna be down, it’s gonna be about who are you going to be during that rollercoaster ride. Are you going to be the person that’s screaming and just enjoying the fact that they’re on the ride or the one that’s like, “Oh my God no. I hate this, I hate this.” Who do you want to be while you’re sitting on the rollercoaster. I want to be the guy that’s scared out of his mind but his hands are up and he’s screaming and laughing, just making the most out of the situation.
In one of your past interviews, you said your music always comes from personal experiences whereas acting finds you stepping into someone else’s shoes. Keeping that in mind, that made me appreciate this Love Language album more because we can see you working your way in and out of different love languages.
Right. Some of them it’s like, this is really good and then now, she’s making me feel weird, she’s rubbing me the wrong way and that is also a part of love. If you’re with someone and you’re mad at them, instead of being like, “Hey, I’m mad, and my feelings have been hurt, I just want you to tell me that you love me, I want to know that you still care about me,” we’ll be quiet. We’ll give the silent treatment, we’ll slam a door, we’ll go make food but make it loud. We don’t know how to express ourselves and that’s something I feel like we all need to work on. I’ve been saying this in every interview of mine, I want to push everyone to go to therapy or counseling or anything. It doesn’t mean that something’s wrong with you, it doesn’t mean you have a mental disability — and if you do have a mental disability, that’s okay. Just to have someone to speak to and open up about your life is so, so healing. Just to find out the birthplace of a lot of our behaviors, we all behave in a certain way and we all just think, “Hey, we’re just this is just who we are.” Actually no, it’s a lot, lot more complex and a lot deeper than that. Once you know the landscape, you’re able to start changing things. If you’re just confused about what’s going on, life will just happen around. If you start knowing yourself better, you’ll know how to navigate within life.
What love language would you say you have and what about your childhood and upbringing would you attribute to that?
I think quality time is definitely my top one. My mom and I went on tour when I was eight years old, so me and her would always spend a lot of time, but family members that I didn’t get to see all the time and wonder when I would see them were my favorite moments. Even now, I get to go back home like once a year, I wish I could go more but, I get to go back so spending that quality time with them really, really means a lot to me. So, yeah, I think that kind of plays into it a little bit. I don’t care if I got to shoot all day and get off at 1 a.m., I’m still going to try and come see you. Or if it’s early in the morning, I would try and come see you. I think it shows effort like, do you really care about the person? But also you can’t use that to an extent where it’s like, “Oh, you don’t care about me if you don’t come see me.” Then it’s like no, I’m gonna care about me too. Yeah, I’ve got to get rest. So it’s a hard balance, man.
Songs like “Pictures By The Pool” and “Be Yourself” are examples of what your pet peeves within a relationship are. Keeping that in mind, what are some things that you’re working on that might’ve been pet peeves to someone else?
Here’s something that I know that I do: in my understanding of my world, if things aren’t a big deal, they just aren’t. I’ve got to work on being like everyone doesn’t think like me. I’ve gotta be a little more sensitive to that, but I almost feel like Thanos, I’m not gonna let you distract me from my destiny, I’ve gotta do this, these things have to be done, and that’s just how it has to go. But I know sometimes that can come off insensitive, but in the big grand scheme of things, why are we talking about this? I’m thinking about aliens, I’m thinking about the end of the world and I’m thinking about really big concepts and really big ideas. So when you come to me with things that are minuscule in the grand scheme of things, it’s a waste of our time, not just mine, it’s yours too. We need to be having bigger conversations.
Do you feel like you parallel in any way to Aaron, the character you play on Grown-ish?
I think the main thing that I relate to with Aaron is the ambition side of things, I don’t fold. There’s many people close that would like me to change the way I might do things. I just don’t budge on that, I can’t budge on that, because it takes away the whole purpose of who I stand for, what I stand for. To conform into a way to be accepted is not my forte and I’ve been asked to do that multiple times, but I can’t do it. Who would I be telling people to be who you are unless someone tells you this is the only way to be in the movie, then you gotta be this kind of person. If this is the only way to sell a record, then you gotta be this. If this is the only way to get a lot of views on a music video, then you gotta do the music video like this. Who would I be preaching this message or whatever if I didn’t do that myself, so I think that’s how Aaron is a lot. He’s like, dude, I don’t care, this is right, this is wrong, this is what I believe, this is I’m standing behind, this is what I’m gonna do. So I definitely carry that energy with me, but I’m definitely more artistic with my political mess [compared to Aaron].
I think Aaron is trying to figure it out, you don’t get it right the first time and you probably won’t get it right the second time when it comes to love. Love is not an easy task, partnership is not an easy task, compromise is not an easy task. It takes time to get to those places. But I think that Aaron is a good person, I think he always has good intentions. He wants to save the world and sometimes saving the world gets in the way of relationship, maybe it doesn’t. I feel like that in my real life and I feel like I’ve got so much to do [that] it’s hard for me to put something or someone in front of that at the moment.
Shifting back to your career as a director, you’ve directed a lot of your own music videos and even some for your peers over the last few years. What’s one artist or even a TV show that you’d love to direct a video or an episode for?
I wouldn’t want to direct like Tom Hardy or Denzel, but I’d like to just pick the scene that they’re in and let them do what they want to do. I think a good director knows their actor, and as an actor, I know what it’s like to have someone try to come in and be like, “Yo, do it like this,” especially when you’ve done that. But that’s why I think actors who are directors are better directors, like John Fabbro to me was a great director because he acts and he knows what’s gonna work, what’s not gonna work. Guy Ritchie’s one of my favorite directors, I don’t think he’s an actor, but his directing is amazing. Zack Snyder now is another one I want to work after seeing Justice League, I mean he did 300 the guy’s a beast. Yeah. So yeah, I definitely want to write and direct for sure and I’ve been working on some ideas and concepts in mind.
What’s your ultimate goal as a creative whether it’s through acting, dancing, singing, directing or just all of them combined?
I wanna do a movie and do everything in the movie. I want to act, direct, compose, edit the movie. I want to do every part. With me, I know that that probably will take me at least four years to do because I’m going to be so stickler on my ass about it. I’m gonna be like it’s not good enough, it’s not good enough, it’s not good enough. I know even with my writing, I’m gonna have to go away somewhere and really get into it because I’m just too hard on myself and I know I want it to be great, so I gotta make sure I have that block of time.
The Love Language is out now via Born Art/EMPIRE. 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.
When asked about how he’s been handling the last year of pandemic, Sacramento rapper Caleborate paraphrases Bruce Lee: “What I’ve been doing to keep things all together is just being like water.” The quote, which implores the listener to be flexible, malleable, and to go with the flow, aptly describes Caleborate’s music style as well. Although his new album, Light Hit My Skin, is ostensibly a hip-hop album, it’s also a genre-fluid affair that allows Caleborate to transform according to his whims and needs of the lush production. And yet, while water can fill a container or run like a river, it remains water — that’s a lesson Caleborate puts into practice here, as well.
So, while he tackles straightforward, storytelling rap on “Contact” with fellow indie rap stalwart Kota The Friend, he also spends several of the interludes — titled “Light 001,” “Light 002,” and “Light 003” — vocalizing like a praise leader on Sunday morning. He calls these his favorite tracks on the album. He demonstrates his versatility throughout; there’s the house-inspired, synth-pop experiment “Homecoming” with Duckwrth, the soft-rock ballad “Untitled (Hit Record),” and the post-hyphy intro “Cliquot Shower.” Each emanates authenticity — there’s no major label-mandated push for algorithmic ambivalence. Instead, Caleborate is like the titular light on his skin — a full spectrum of wavelengths and colors — all of them are not always visible, but they are the same beam of light.
Over the phone with Uproxx, Caleborate reflects on his unique artistic philosophy, other lessons he’s learned over the past year, and questions why, with such a multifaceted array of lights to choose from, mainstream hip-hop continues to constrain itself to just a few shades of red.
What have you been doing over the last year of quarantine?
I’ve been doing some Caleb work, some Caleborate work, some Mr. Parker work, you know what I mean. All different facets of me. Some work as a brother, as a son, as a businessman.
I’ve had a lot of time to reconnect with my family because before COVID and everything popped off, I was really planning to move to LA. My manager and I were about to move in together, he had found an apartment. We literally had gone to go see it the day before I came back to live in the Bay with my mom.
COVID kicked off right in March, so I ended up staying in the Bay. My manager ended up staying where he was located out in Pennsylvania. My workflow changed drastically. My plans changed drastically. Performances: Gone. And certain things that I had going in process for the album shifted up. So, I just kind of had to adjust my workflow and sort of catch my rhythm in the water. I just had to catch my rhythm.
That’s really what we’re here for is for the album, which has a very interesting title, Light Hit My Skin. Obviously, there’s probably a lot of layers to that. Why don’t you kind of give me a little bit of an overview of what inspired this title and the concept of the album?
It’s so many different types of light. We were listening to “The Madness” and we just keyed in on that line. We’re driving in the car and everybody keyed in on that line. It’s so multi-layered, it has so many different meanings. And I have a lot of different versions of the light that hit my skin, whether it’s on stage or out in the street or whether it’s cop lights cascading over our car or it’s phone flashlights taking pictures with people.
Or even the light in me if you want to get metaphorical. The light that I can shine is who I am and enlightening people. All the different forms of that word really hit me at that moment and it’s something that I referenced a few times in the album. So to me, it’s just all the different situations in which light hits my skin. I’m about to go into the grocery store right now and lights are about to hit my skin, they got fluorescent light in there, and that’s a setting for a story, a moment of life.
I love that you can find so many different ways of looking at such a simple phrase, that really speaks to your gift as a writer, which is one of the things that drew me to you as an artist. Speaking of lines that jump out, one that hit me was about how you used to wear hoop shorts under your jeans on “We Make.” It just sent me right back to my own high school experience.
Oh man, bro, man, that was a thing that we did back in middle school and high school, we stopped sophomore year of high school because we got real lockers. We would hoop before school, you would literally come to school dripped out, shorts on underneath your jeans, come to school a little bit early, take your jeans off.
You might put hoop shoes in your backpack or over your shoulder, the next thing, you’re hooping. And then we hoop for 15 minutes, put your jeans on. We had to buy our jeans a couple of sizes higher. You have to buy thinner shorts.
Those moments help teach you a little bit about who people are. And when you have a confrontation on the court and disagreements or you’re picking teams or you have to take initiative or share with teammates. It was just kind of these young man moments that I had reminisced on that I sometimes see the matured version of them in our culture.
So as an independent artist, you have a lot more control over what you put out and how you put it out. But because it’s coming out of your pocket, you don’t have the budget of a bigger artist. How do you go about executing without really having the same resources as major label artists?
Well, for me, it’s relationships. Keeping those relationships is invaluable because we’re the artists and whether you’re signed to a label or not, real artists can see each other. And so I’m blessed. There are other people that I meet that are blessed to do it that way, musically, whether it’s production or writing or singing or whatever, for the sake of music, I’m keeping them relationships.
I have a very strong core of artists that I’ve been working with and people that support me. And it’s definitely all based on music. Money is secondary, but money has come because of that. As far as reaching out to newer artists like Deante Hitchcock or working with Cantrell or working with Tone Sinatra or working with Duckwrth… I make sure that they’re compensated and make sure that their time is valued.
But first comes first, do they like to record? Do they want to be in this thing? Are they down for the ride of this record? And everybody featured on the project, man, they’re real artists. And so it’s just an honor to work with other people like that.
How have you adapted to not having a tour life over the last year? What’s something that you miss about touring and what something you don’t miss about touring?
Man, touring is this very bittersweet thing, absolutely love and miss traveling in general. The number one aspect of touring is being out with friends — three, four like-minded individuals — experiencing life together at a new point in time. And then when you compound making money and having a reason to be here, it’s amazing.
Traveling is great, but it’s also not great, it’s tiring. Also, “traveling while Black” is a thing, just like “traveling while a woman” is a thing — especially international travel. People look at you, look at what you’re wearing… That could be kind of draining, so that part of travel I don’t miss.
God took it away from all of these artists, all of us for a reason. So we’ll never forget it. That’s how I feel. But, yeah, I miss that and what I’ve been doing to keep things all together is just being like water and learning more to be like water.
The change in sort of workflow for the whole world really has sort of allowed for, I think, me and people like me maybe to focus on what’s in the now. “What can I actually do? What do I need to do? What’s something I need to be doing, what stuff I want to be doing? And how can I get what I need to get done in spite of what’s going on in the world?” And I’ve been learning a lot of stuff through just approaching stuff with that mentality.
As we wrap things up, I always like to ask artists this question because you have to get asked the same questions over and over again. What’s something that you want to talk about that you wish somebody had asked you?
That’s a really good question. I almost want the right person to ask. I want somebody to ask me, or even once someone to have a real, everything-on-the-table conversation about the history of hip-hop and rap music and its impact on the Black community, as far as things that are promoted in the music and how they correlate to health, violence as promoted in the music and how it correlates to crime rates, and trends that occur in the music industry as far as artists who perpetuate certain themes in their music.
Because I believe over time, hip-hop has gotten bloodier and bloodier and there’s been more money put into bloodier and bloodier music. And I don’t have anything against bloody music. It’s not my preferred genre. It’s not my preferred experience. But when something has been systematically controlled by capitalistic entities like major corporations that do billions of dollars in revenue every year and can invest hundreds of millions or 20 to 50 million into the specific genre of music… Maybe you can have conversations. I would just be interested in having that conversation.
Light Hit My Skin is out now on TBKTR. 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.
Well before you hear her delicate, soaring voice, an admirable aspect of Joyce Wrice’s career is her ability to be a highlight in a room full of undeniable talents. After landing collaborations with Dom Kennedy, Blu, Jay Prince, and others in the early to mid-2010s, Wrice’s light would soon brighten. In recent years, she’s landed tracks with Devin Morrison (“With You”), Free Nationals (“The Rivington”), and Westside Gunn (“French Toast”). Her contributions were always the sweet icing on an already tasty cake, a delicacy that slowly drew more interest towards the supporting act with each release.
Finally, Wrice has delivered her main course to the world with her debut album, Overgrown. Unlike most love-focused R&B debuts, which often present youth and naivety as accompanying attributes in relationships, the LA singer’s body of work seemingly arrives after this stage in life. Experience and the wisdom to learn from it all find Wrice more prepared to begin the trek towards a committed lover who’s just as mature as she is.
While the end goal on Overgrown is indeed a partner who meets her standards, that’s only half of it. On the album’s title track, which doubles as the project’s outro, Wrice shares what could be documented as her “above all else” mantra. “But don’t you lose all that makes you you,” she sings. “You will be scared, unprepared sometimes.” The heart will always want what it wants but altering its best and most foundational aspects to attain that will bring a result that’s not nearly as satisfying as one imagined.
This very thought process is why on “Losing” she makes her insufficient lover not only aware of their sub-par contributions to their growing relationship, but her irreversible decision to find something better. The song’s swift-moving drums and giddy guitar strings capture her nimble sidestep in dodging the bullet of an unsatisfying love. “Must Be Nice” also echoes the mantra she introduced on the album’s outro, and despite a counter for Masego to continue to flow, Wrice stands firm on placing a pause on their nighttime fun for the betterment of herself. “But it’s just something about the things you do to me / You keep me places I know I ain’t supposed to be,” she sings, adding, “I’ve got rules when I’m with you I don’t follow / I’m wishing you were a phase.’”
Wrice’s insistence for a companion that checks off all her desired boxes stems from being deprived from her close encounters of just that. This picture-perfect partner who absorbs her attention by simply breathing is her muse on “Addicted” and “Think About You.” The once too-good-for-you singer finds herself swept up on a love cloud that unfortunately fails to bring her to her desired location. The former accounts for her inability to turn her dream lover into a reality over an electric ballad while the latter is a dreamy affair that sees her putting the ball in their court with the hope that they make the easy layup.
Overgrown is the LA singer’s way of letting both new and old interests know that immaturity and indecisiveness are not welcomed in her world. It’s clear Wrice has had her fair share of that in the past and its return is the last thing she needs. While some might use their debut to document their growth, Wrice takes her opportunity to show that she is grown. Whether it’s falling in love, falling out of it, or just avoiding it altogether, Overgrown tells and shows listeners that through it all, she’ll present her best self and push forward with it as nobly as possible. If you’re going to wear your heart on your sleeve as she does, the least you can do is protect it from heinous outside forces. For Wrice, this protection not only comes in the form of self-preservation but also through strict warnings that promise undesirable consequences if ignored
Overgrown is out now via Joyce Wrice Music. 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.
It’s a formula we’ve all seen before; one rapper, one producer, 10 tracks. There’s a reason for this: It works.
The latest example proving this aphorism is To Kill A Sunrise, the concise collaborative project from burgeoning Brooklyn rapper Kota The Friend and veteran Boston producer Statik Selektah. Released just two months removed from Kota’s last project, the quick and dirty Lyrics To Go, Vol. 2, this latest effort makes an ironclad case for the aforementioned recipe with crisp, inventive rhymes over inviting instrumentals that show what traditionalist hip-hop can be at its absolute best.
Over the course of his surprisingly productive five-year career, Kota has proven to be one of the genre’s foremost advocates of the bars-first mentality endemic to his hometown’s musical philosophy throughout the mid-’90s. To put it bluntly, whenever someone shouts out “real hip-hop,” they usually mean rap in the vein of jazz-sampling, puffer jacket-wearing, Timberland boot-stomping, cerebral rappers from the lyrical bloodline of acts like Gang Starr, Pete Rock & CL Smooth, and A Tribe Called Quest.
Kota has this, yes, but he also adds his own unique, plainspoken perspective to the simile-ridden rhyme style of his forebears, leavening their rugged machismo with a vulnerable, confessional, emotionally intelligent bent to his raps. He displayed as much on his breakout 2019 album Foto and on its 2020 follow-up Everything, but whereas on those albums, he displayed that honest tendency over beats that toed the line between modernism and his natural, jazz-rap instincts, on To Kill A Sunrise, he fully indulges the latter, partnering with their perfect foil in Statik Selektah.
For instance on “Hate,” Statik laces Kota with a stripped-down, hand-clap-and-key-stab sample pack over which Kota can “have some fun,” as he says on the song’s introductory instrumental bars. On the song’s opposite, “The Love,” Statik scratches in over a tinkling piano sample, throws hella swing on the drum kit, and channels the spirit of 1991. Kota dives in headfirst, ruminating on intergenerational responsibilities and working at mediocre jobs before attaining his dream of supporting himself through his music.
The combination of Statik’s throwback beats and Kota’s straightfoward, lyrics-focused rhyme style certainly evokes nostalgia for a certain era and place in hip-hop history but they’re not stuck in the past, as so many rhyme-first rap conservatives can be. They don’t thumb their noses at modern trends so much as eschew them entirely; they aren’t here to scold rappers for humming or diss their gold-chain-flexing, trap-praising peers. The endeavor comes across more self-contained, as if to say, “This is us, in our element, doing what we like to do.” In short, it’s a rapper and producer having fun making music, which can sometimes feel rare these days.
Ever since Jay-Z first uttered that fateful phrase “I’m not a rapper,” it can seem as though many folks who do the job are only doing it to get their feet in the door at the places they really want to work, like waitstaff at the local diner who are really actors or web designers or CEOs in casual conversations. Within the past month, I’ve written about no less seven major rap stars securing their first acting roles, while a number of others have jumped into tech or become restauranteurs.
These are all good things! We’ve seen enough rappers go from rags to riches back to rags over the past four decades to understand that rap money doesn’t always last. “LLC Twitter” is quick to remind anyone unfortunate enough to stumble across their condescending messages that you should have multiple streams of income to ensure a comfortable lifestyle and we’ve both praised and criticized Jay-Z for his capitalistic ambitions. Entertainment’s a fickle mistress, so it’s best to make sure there’s a plan B, C, D, E, F, and G for the day the winds change and fans’ taste does too.
But it’s so refreshing to listen to someone make hip-hop because they enjoy making hip-hop. Kota raps about hustling his way out of poverty, yes, but not through socially destructive means. And now that he’s reached his level of comfort, there’s no castigation or roasting of his listeners or taunting of his enemies and haters. Kota raps like the money is assured on tracks like “Live & Direct,” but also secondary to things like fatherhood, community, health, and sharing his wisdom rather than lording it over the plebians who keep him in business.
Nor does he waste time berating anyone for making or enjoying that type of rap. He’s not a snob or an elitist. He’s not above employing a trappish beat himself, as he displayed on prior releases like Everything. But he’s a rapper’s rapper who truly enjoys the craft, working with an established producer who knows how to tap into his strongest impulses. The result is just like the sunrise: Enjoyable to experience, invigorating and easygoing at the same time, and full of promise for a new day.
To Kill A Sunrise Is Out Now via FLTBYS. Get it here.
