Image via AKAI SOLO/Instagram
Steven Louis met Bill Nye, The Science Guy when he was five years old.
“I don’t wanna hang with you ‘cuz you a time killer” is my new default for shirking social obligations. “Morpheus” brings about a weirdly compelling collaboration; Vayda traffics in warped airiness and moments of disconnection; Mavi is as syllabically dense as anyone in today’s rap game. But the production here splits their differences, with pattering 808s for Vay to float across and tender miniaturism for Mav to sedately bar out. It’s electric, crowded and hypnotic, like most of VAYTRIX, the Atlanta plugg princess’ latest album. “You ain’t really havin’ like you think you is” kinda covers the entire Wachowski series.
Mavi’s Shadowbox will invariably be on my short list for album of the year.
Midnight blue Old English typeface, drop-top Cadillacs speeding on the freeway, Rottweilers barking as the whole neighborhood dances and twists fingers. “All That” is comfortably West Coast, allowing the famously reticent Ab-Soul to swag and glide. Director Carlos Acosta uses split-screen still shots to build a humming dread, animating Taebeast’s vacant lot of a beat. This is eerie Halloween music for 75-degree sunshine. Thirsty P’s croaks constitute the second catchiest TDE hook of the year for my money. JasonMartin is having an exhilarating late-career resurgence, and continues to assert his vitality in the California record book. Soul evokes My Ghetto Report Card while ducking the SWAT shutters. “All That” warrants some hype for the forthcoming album, Soul Burger, which was announced Thursday.
“I’m not perfect but I’m on to something,” AKAI SOLO concedes through his latest poetics. “Panic prison you in peril, I got mine in the bank.” The Brooklyn rhetor writes in slants, jokes, misdirects and open-ended daydreams, and “Bleeding Black” is an amalgam of psychedelic assurance and 718 pride. What good is fire in the heart if you know you can’t act on it? Why do the lovers love to front? It’s a murky typhoon spilling through Kings County, or music to bake cookies in a narrow apartment to. His latest full-length, DREAMDROPDRAGON, is set to be released next week.
Throughout the year, I’ve been making a conscious effort not to double up on featured artists in this column. But Kamaiyah’s prolific output and magnetic charisma have continued to force my hand. “Cafe La Fong” is a live dispatch from 68th and Foothill — outside Ben’s Burgers in Eastmont, and across the street from Alameda County Social Services. QuakeBeatz sources a howling saxophone lightyears away from East Oakland, letting Kamaiyah cook in isolation. It’s a brilliant move, because her sense of melody is so singularly efficient. While emotion merchants like Rod Wave and NBA Youngboy rely on bluesy maximalism, Kamaiyah creates triumphant and bellowing moments without obvious crescendo. Sparsity belies the communal throughline of the music — “me and mines got rich offa being righteous” is a heavy hitter.
We might as well check the other exception to that Rap-Up coverage rule I set out, because Greedo has been indefatigable all year across features, loosies and SoundCloud collections. The closing track of Hella Greedy has doctors OUTRAGED with this one easy trick to lose 30 pounds! Helluva’s supercharged arena bass and canyon-sized deep synth put The Wolf of Grape Street in his usually wide zone, and “Move Pt. 2” is a carousel of different flows with a shared megalomania. “Head to the sky, feet to the ground, pistol on my lap riding with 100 thou,” he snarls for a chorus. The “Hustler Muzik” interpolation is a chilly touch — he won’t budge won’t budge, but he’ll damn sure move something. I’m also intrigued by the sequalization process — by my count, this is his fourth two-parter after “Paranoid,” “Spent Time“ and “If I.” I’m sure there’s a bewildered and bespectacled A&R somewhere banging his head as he pleads for an official “Substance” follow-up. I’m here for Greedo’s selectivity, forging canon from the more intimate B-sides.
The absence of Stockton’s superstar still looms large — he deserves to be here, doing batshit insane sample flips of Sabrina Carpenter that radicalize TikTok poptimists, or welcoming EBK Jaaybo home from prison, or holding it down for his family and stepson. Andrei Legend blasts the Aaliyah/Timbo classic through a constricting prism of laser lights, and Slo-Be clocks in with his trademark desaturation. His posthumous album Slo-Be Bryant 4 will be released October 25.
This beat is frantically selling off rare comic collectibles for an outside chance at obstructed-view Yankees World Series seats. This beat knew David Dinkins when he was Manhattan borough president. This beat scuffed its Gazelles trying to kick a pigeon. This beat interned at Fat Beats. This beat is good, and so is this rapping. Protect Theodore Arrington at all costs.
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