Since making the groundbreaking banger ‘Wut’, immediately going viral among white sorority girls, Le1f has somewhat fallen off the map of the general polulace. That isn’t to say that his music has declined; I found Fly Zone to be a solid tape. It just seems like the people that got interested in Le1f solely off the single aren’t interested in exploring his entire catalog, maybe seeing him as a gimmick.
‘Spa Day’ is a single from Fly Zone, the video was shot at the real spa Body by Brooklyn, which looks like a pretty ill place to get your relaxation on. Heems, Lakutis, and others all make cameos to get turnt in the hot tub, as the steam adds a hazy, surreal vibe to all the shots. The track features all the things that made ‘Wut’ so good, aside from its viral nature: Le1f’s extremely fast, articulate rapping, semi-taboo subject matter, and booming, grimy beats. Here, the production is supplied by HarryB, a synthy, EDM/trap-inspired joint. Even though Le1f raps ‘This that laid back music,’ its hard to believe over the ridiculously menacing beat. The hook, ‘This a spa day’ sounds more like a threat than what could be a flamboyant assertion. Le1f takes the gung-ho masculine energy of trap, fucking bitches and getting money, and diverts it into fucking your man (at one point your pastor?) and getting facials, in the coolest way possible.
Soultrap is the best and most accurate self-named genre ever. It’s progenitor, Tree, blasted the hip-hop community last March with the first installment of Sunday School, entirely produced by himself, melding catchy soul samples with 808 trap beats to great effect. And that’s entirely without mentioning his raspy, Tom Waits-flow. Now, after being showered with blog buzz, Tree is back with Sunday School II. While not his true second release, it does serve as a stepping stone to show how Tree has reacted to the newfound spotlight, and how he’s managed to advance and mature an already distinctly original sound.
Tree has branched out (sorry) in the mere fact that he enlists other producers; not many, but when he’s built a fledgling career on being a consummate rapper/producer, it could be a risky move. Luckily, it seems like the other producers must’ve been taking notes from the first Sunday School, so all the beats mesh well, even when they don’t contain the chopped-up soul samples that he’s known for. A direct nod to this is made on the track ‘Tree Shit’, produced by Tye Hill, while it isn’t too similar in structure to tracks off the first mixtape, it is still, as the chorus says, that “Tree shit”. Which really just means that it’s packed with justified braggadocio, combined with a nostalgic reminiscence as Tree contemplates his past and future struggles.
Tree’s raps don’t rely on clever wordplay or sheer speed, instead it’s the interplay of his unique voice, the soul samples, and prolific use of ad-libs. He’s a great songwriter, and over an hour-long tape he revisit topics such as growing up in Cabrini Green housing projects and his undying determination to succeed, with distinctly new lights in each track. A succinct summary of the tape might come on “Hurt”, with the Teddie Caine-sung hook “If it doesn’t kill me let it hurt”. Tree seems fully prepared to bare all aspects of his past, not just apathetic to the pain, but knowing, knowing that it is that honesty that makes his music strong. Obvious highlights include the high-profile features of Danny Brown, who nearly steals the show with an even crazier flow than we usually see on ‘No Faces’, and Roc Marciano on ‘Trynawin’. The transitions and track ordering is on point — ‘No Faces’ leads into the menacing ‘Busters’, and the whole tape could be listened to front-to-back. It may not pack the same oomph as the first Sunday School, when the world witnessed the birth of a surprisingly unique artist operating within a tired medium (soul samples), but Sunday School II shows the artistic progression and maturity that one would hope from a sophomore project. For me, Tree remains one of the most exciting rappers/producers to watch, and I can only hope he sets his roots deep in the industry (sorry again).
Since Lost in Translation dropped almost two years ago, I’ve been turning as many people onto Mr. Muthafuckin’ Exquire as I can. Dude is one of the most talented and unique in the New New York Scene. As good (and different) as groups like World’s Fair and The Underachievers are, the aesthetic of these second-wave artists can be similar to non discerning ears. Exquire on the other hand has been a progressive, artist mixing experimental production with golden age NY lyricism since the very beginning. He spits verses backwards, writes his own sci-fi fantasies, namedrops Dostoyevsky and Howard Zinn. To say I’m excited for his upcoming mixtape, Kismet, would be an understatement.
The second single off the tape, titled ‘Noble Drew Ali’ dropped today, and Exquire is back with a vengeance. For those not in the know, Drew Ali is the founder of the Moorish Science Temple who claimed all sorts of crazy esoteric shit. One of those shits I spend hours Googling at 3AM, and if you’re reading this blog, you probably do too. Over a hard, jazzy beat from CONSTROBUZ, Exquire raps ‘Treat a hoe like my wife/Treat my wife like my bitch/Money don’t change who you are/Amplify the shit’. He screws up his voice to an absurd degree to yelp ‘bleed’. It’s fucking great, and if this and ‘Draped in Gold‘ are any indication, the tape will be the quirky banger that New York needs.
Bloglin favorite Kevin Gates continues to ride the success of his Luca Brasi Story mixtape by releasing the visuals for ‘Paper Chasers’, one of the best tracks on the tape. The video is standard fare — some shots of Gates rapping on the roof, driving what Youtube commenter ‘ToXiiC1080′ identifies as a Jaguar XJ 2013, and with his girl in the studio on some hold-me-back shit. Gates has the gift/curse of looking perpetually emotional in every scene, and the teardrop tattoos just add to the effect. Surely, that desperation lends itself to the track, which is basically about hustling, and the trials that come with it.
The video was shot by Coyote Films, directed by Déjà Star. Weirdly, some clips just seem like stock footage of Gates doing normal shit, at the gas station, getting tattoos, and at some kind of high school pep rally. I wish Gates came to my high school. Something tells me that if he’s really chasing that paper, the gas station might not be the best spot to look. Gates also briefly claims that he’s ‘been retarded’. I don’t claim to be up on the hippest Baton Rouge street lingo, but I was pretty sure that was a bad thing. But I’m not a rapper. I’m not chasing paper. I could be wrong.
I first heard of Chance the Rapper from this dude I know, let’s call him Marcus. Marcus is from Chicago, hella white, went to a private school, now goes to a small liberal arts school on his way to be a lawyer. My friends and I refer to him and his buddy solely as Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, due to their hip-hop stan-ship and general nonthreatening white people demeanor. So when this guy pitches me some rapper that I “Really need to check out, dude,” because he’s “totally about to blow up,” I approach the matter with understandable skepticism. Without mincing words, I listen to a lot of contemporary hip-hop, it takes a lot to impress me, and I don’t really trust this dude’s opinion.
So until now, I’d managed to avoid the buzz train that Chance the Rapper’s been building. But upon the release of his new mixtape, Acid Rap, it was not only Marcus that was excited. My twitter feed was popping off, I saw Complex articles, multiple Pitchfork nods, the whole internet was hyping this dude up. So when it came out, I copped it (as you can here), and these are my thoughts, as someone relatively ignorant of the Chance the Rapper phenomenon.
.I’m going to start by saying that Chance has a… distinctive voice. It’s whiny and nasal, not dissimilar to more recent Lil’ Wayne. If that is any indication, I am not the biggest fan, which makes it difficult to accurately judge the tape if I’m dismissing one of the largest components from the beginning. Luckily for me (and Chance, I guess), he has a good range, can sing well, and often switches up his flow mid-verse. Like a lot of other rappers (see Schoolboy Q, Chief Keef, Lil B), Chance has committed an act of self-branding with his trademark ad-lib. Unfortunately for Chance and the listener, his particular sound byte is reminiscent of a pocket-sized dog’s yap. It’s hard to take seriously, and on tracks like ‘Pusha Man’ it really diffuses the power of the more serious issues Chance is trying to bring up, like paranoia, rampant thievery, and gang violence in Chicago.
On ‘Cocoa Flavored Kisses’, however, Chance eschews the ad-lib, creating by far the best track on the album. It features the best of best of his contemplative ruminations on the expectations of his parents vs. the streets, his playful, well-articulated flow, and near the end of his verse his voice switches to a nearly overwhelmed, breathless torrent. Much like Kendrick Lamar on a ‘Backseat Freestyle’, Chance has the awesome ability to key up his voice to show intense emotion while keeping his flow on point. The track also features fellow fast-rapping Chicagoan Twista, who shows an incredible degree of consistency whenever he’s allowed to jump on a beat. A similar display of lyrical dexterity and careful collaboration choices is heard on ‘Favorite Song’, featuring Childish Gambino, who seems like a natural fit as a rapper with multiple voices and flows who tries to elevate and distance himself from stereotypical street rap content. Chance easily manages to keep up, beginning his tongue-twisting verse with “Chance, acid rapper, soccer, hacky sacker/Cocky khaki jacket jacker/Blap-happy faggot slapper/A Rocky rocket launcher/Shake that laffy taffy, jolly raunchy rapper”. The other features are of similarly high-quality, on ‘NaNa’ Action Bronson has a hilarious verse where he starts by imitating Chance’s flow before reverting to his natural style to talk about a bitch with a little arm (shoutouts to DJ Paul?). Ab-Soul is a bit disappointing, but the features help to offset whatever problems one might have Chance’s voice.
Now for the production. Good lord. It’s fucking beautiful, right from ‘Good Ass Intro’, which manages to live up to its name. It’s soulful, jazzy, clearly influenced by Kanye, but more freeform and often uptempo to compliment Chance’s faster rapping. The hooks are all emotional and heartfelt, even as Chance is singing “Everybody’s somebody’s everything” he manages to dodge the corniness that would overwhelm a less confident and skilled MC. That fearlessness is what makes the tape notable, over the course of less than an hour Chance manages to touch on gang violence, love, his dead friend, tripping, growing up, and does it in a wide variety of flows and over perfectly fitted beats. He’s a great songwriter, as shown on ‘Acid Rain’ — confessional and smooth, experimenting with a number of different voices and flows. This shit is the future. There, I said it. Despite my subjective issues, the tape is undeniably progressive in nature, combining jazz, poetry, soul, funk, and hip-hop in a way that seems indicative of the direction experimental hip-hop will be heading in the years to come.
Still, the tape has not converted me into a Chance stan (sorry Marcus). I can appreciate its creativity, but it’s not the breakout tape it seems to be heralded as. Chance is only 20, and one can only hope that as he grows he’ll retain his eclectic influences and continue transforming his unique blend of styles. Until then, I’ll take Tree as my pick for up-and-coming Chicago artist.
No, Google, Fifty Grand is not just a Hemingway story. She’s a LA-based producer, part of the Aural Sects crew, and has been steadily releasing superb dark electronica over the past year. The newest cut is the Pokémon-referencing “Return to Mt. Moon”, which takes a spooky instrumental, like something out of a video game or cheesy movie, and throws some quick drumrolls and snaps over the joint to make it pop. The overall affect reminds me of wandering around the woods late at night, illuminated only by moonlight, hearing some strange movements in the bushes all around you, maybe tripping into a pile of wet leaves, and quickly figuring out how you’re gonna get the fuck home. The art is Böcklin’s “Isle of the Dead”, a fittingly chilling title for the creepy composition.
The track is featured on Earwax Ziptake III released on Allied Force Press, which you can cop here.
Some of the hottest artists right now owe their career to DJ Burn One — Gucci Mane, Yelawolf, Pill, and many more all gained publicity from his mixtapes and his production. For his next project, Burn One has selected up-and-coming Atlanta rapper Scotty, producing his newest mixtape, #F.A.I.T.H. (Foreva Atlanta in the Heart). One of the standout tracks is ‘My Shoes’ featuring Starlito and Killa Kyleon, both long-standing members of the south’s mixtape scene.
On ‘My Shoes’ Burn One brings out a melodic, soulful sample, contrasted by the harsh 808s and the aggressive trio of rappers. In its ability to blend the soulful and emotional while retaining its dirty south sound, the track reminds me of someone like Big K.R.I.T., who’s also featured on the tape (on a track with Trinidad James!). The two drops breaking up the verses give the track a weight and emphasis, especially Kyleon’s quickly-rapped last verse. Both referencing the importance of having fresh kicks and the inability to ‘walk a mile’ in the shoes of a struggling rapper, DJ Burn One has assembled three unassuming rappers into a track with some genuine heat. Listen to ‘My Shoes’ and check out #F.A.I.T.H. below.
This weekend I eavesdropped on the girl next to me at a cafe telling her friend about her film premiering at all these different festivals. I have no knowledge of film (moving pictures, so I hear), but films, specifically short ones, are great topics of conversation amongst pretentious, bougie people. However, I will cede that when done well, they can be pretty fucking cool.
North Bay is one such project, a psuedo sci-fi short about Sachin Fayez, a scientist obsessed with the prospect of discovering frequencies that exist outside our dimension entirely. It’s a cool concept that straddles the line between campiness and genuine evocative cinema, not always perfectly. We get the standard tropes – a scientist that believes wholeheartedly in his theory, to the point that his reputation has been ruined, he’s lost his tenure, and now spends his days roaming the North Bay hills. He sends his recordings out into the ether, hoping they will somehow resonate with his chasm strait particles. Fayez (played by Jamie Harris) has been at his project for 17 years, but that’s when a rogue camper provides the proof he’s been waiting for. Suddenly, Fayez is forced to deal with the prospect that his life’s work may not be in vain.
North Bay’s plot is intriguing and provocative, but its real strength comes in its cinematography. Long, beautiful static shots of mountainous hiking trails illustrate the loneliness of Fayez’s devotion, as well as just being naturalistically beautiful in their own right. The film also plays with some ideas of new media, including clips of Fayez watching youtube videos, watching analog tapes, and their interaction is central to the film. Regardless of the occasionally weak dialogue, it’s hard not to feel gratified at the film’s climax, just as Fayez does. And peep those Mishka leggings on actress Corsica Wilson!
‘North Bay’ will premier at the London International Festival of Science Fiction and Fantastic Film, running from April 30 to May 6.
Pain & Gain is the first Michael Bay film in nearly a decade that doesn’t star giant CGI robots. Over the years he’s become the butt of a lot of jokes concerning mindless pyrotechnics and gratuitous bikini montages. With this film, he embellishes that reputation, puts it in a headlock, then forces it to dance in a thong. All of the aspects people love him or hate him for are present in this one, particularly his relentless energy. This kineticism combined with solid, madcap performances make Pain & Gain one rowdy, entertaining black comedy that feels totally unique.
Mark Wahlberg (Fear) stars as Danny Lugo, a wide-eyed, struggling personal trainer with a skewed vision of the American dream. He seems to speak exclusively in bullshit he memorized from motivational tapes and is absolutely consumed by his body image. Despite saving a Miami gym from bankruptcy with his aggressive approach to roping in youngsters, he’s still living hand to mouth (or, in this case, hand to protein shake). When Jewish deli and oil kingpin Victor Kershaw (Tony Shalhoub) becomes Danny’s new client, the criminal gears start grinding in his mind and he decides to rob the Jewish showboater of his riches.
His partners in crime are Adrian (Anthony Mackie), a fellow down-on-his-luck bodybuilder, and Paul (Dwayne Johnson), a born again Christian bodybuilder. These three gorillas turned wannabe criminals kidnap, extort, and torture Kershaw until he signs over his wealth. That’s the meat of the story, which is based on actual events that went down in Miami in the mid-90s. Nothing goes as planned, of course, and the three hulks engage in a series of farcical scenarios that owe more to the screwball comedies of the ’40s than the cynical action-comedies of today.
Each blunder sees the mens’ masculinity being challenged and their only retaliation is to do a quick set of curls to reassure themselves that they’re still enormous. Pretty much every scene features the three men in some kind of desperate situation and, honestly, I laughed my ass off throughout. Wahlberg subscribes to the “everything is funnier if you’re yelling” school of comedy and he’s damn good at it. He’s got one of the funniest faces in Hollywood, especially when he’s all bug-eyed and screaming, which is 90 percent of this movie.
This is probably Anothony Mackie’s (Tupac in Notorious) finest performance. His best scenes are shared with Rebel Wilson, who I guess is the new Will Ferrel. She’s fucking everywhere nowadays. She does her usual dry schtick. Dwayne Johnson delivers his best performance, hands-down. He’s hilarious as the born again, sober one of the group, then once he relapses and starts snorting piles of coke, he takes it to a whole other level of insanity.
His contract must say that he has to be dripping sweat all of the time. He was constantly soggy in GI Joe: Retaliation, Fast Five, and now Pain & Gain. Maybe his body doesn’t regulate temperature properly and it’s too expensive for the makeup department to cover-up the waterworks. Or maybe it’s just how he feels comfortable after years of pro wrestling. Either way, if there’s anyone who looks good as a sweathog, it’s The Rock.
As hysterical as the movie is, Bay missed a huge opportunity for the perfect visual gag. In a few of his early scenes, Paul is carrying around an old school Bones Brigade skateboard with neon green wheels. At one point he even kicks the tail and catches it. We never see him riding it though, which would have absolutely destroyed me. Imagine the 6′ 4″, 265lb Dwayne Johnson awkwardly skateboarding down the street…C’MON! My sides would have literally split open.
The ensemble cast is rounded out by Ed Harris (who previously worked with Bay in The Rock) as a private eye named Ed. He’s the stable anchor of the cast – the only one not completely out of his mind. Even the camera, which never stops anxiously moving throughout the film, seems to rest when Harris is onscreen. About an hour in, I my eyes felt exhausted from the merciless camera movement, so I was relieved when it started to cool off during Ed’s scenes.
The whole film has a dark, amoral sensibility to it. Besides Ed, there are really no characters to sympathize with. Even Victor, who’s tortured and tied up for weeks, is portrayed as a venomous scumbag. Bay gracelessly reminds us near the end that this is a true story and these bulky dudes, as lovable as they are, committed some seriously brutal acts. I’m not sure if this reality check is supposed to make the audience feel guilty for laughing or to further highlight how shocking the violence is, either way it confuses whatever the hell the film’s message is supposed to be.
Despite that small fumble, Pain & Gain is a comedic triumph for Mr. Bay, although I doubt it’ll win over any of his haters. Talk shit about him all you want, there’s no denying he’s got a distinct style and a gleeful, childlike approach to filmmaking. Sure, he won’t win any feminism awards in the near future (every woman in the film is a dumb stripper or Rebel Wilson), but at least he’s not bowing to any negative criticism. You do you, Bay. Nice to see you can still direct humans.
Recent Fools Gold signee GrandeMarshall has dropped his sophomore project Mugga Man, the follow up to last year’s 800. His first tape was heavily slept on, and the 19-year old has come back with something to prove. Straight out of Philly, the young rapper doesn’t fit into the lineage of cats like Meek Mill, perhaps jiving more with Wiz Khalifa back when he was good. He seems content to use his own group of producers, often self-producing, and the collaborators are largely unknown Philly rappers, with a surprise appearance by Remy Banks being the only exception. Grande is able to consolidate a disparate group of producers into a single project, while also switching between a laid-back, smoked-out flow, flipping a Slim Thug line on ‘Girls (With Rhythm)’, and jumping into a more aggressive flow on the jazzy ‘Full Court Press’.
At 21 tracks, the tape plays long, and doesn’t fully hit its stride until the middle. But once we’re in GrandeMarshall’s zone, it’s hard to resist his chill (for lack of a better word) voice over soulful samples as in ‘Head to Feet’. I don’t know if there’s anything quite as honest and emotional on this tape as 800′s ‘Dearly Beloved’, but it’s good music to sit back and smoke to. Because if you’re a 19-year old just signed to Fool’s Gold, it’s okay to have a little fun. It might be too early to judge, but I’m inclined to believe Fool’s Gold’s picked another winner.
