Art via Evan Solano
Steven Louis thinks thinks the schnozzberry vape tastes like schnozzberry vape juice.
There’s but one correct choice for this leadoff slot. Look, we’re not exactly thrilled about the hostile takeover of artificial intelligence — in rap production and distribution, or anything other than fighting replicants. But if it has to exist, it might as well be in service of a new Suga Free album. The Pomona pimp deserves an easier lift after such a decorated career in the underground, and we can’t scowl at his likeness as a brigade general. Granted, we are here for the music, which slaps. He dropped a full-length Mr. P Body in late December, and this updated timestamp bop has a well-crafted weightlessness to it. “January 1” is hilarious, if hard to quote in print (do we print these?). As our narrator puts it, lovers and choosers should enlist in the army, or just be thankful that they weren’t left as sheet stains. Thick, chunky funk dares us to stay offended.
Auld acquaintance be forgot once Freddy Krueger pops out. We start the New Year off with classic horror summonings. H3ADBAND paces his single with jittery flow and rubberized delivery. It’s a nerve-wrecking, undeniable groove, as if someone slipped one million milligrams of caffeine into the unmarked cauldron. Baton Rouge’s latest breakout sells this visual with committed reaction shots; eyeballs practically bulge out of their sockets as would-be killers turn corners. And the roster is deep, from Elm Street’s truest to Sidney Prescott’s terror to Frankenstein’s Monster (we get it right over here). Cali Kilo brings some quick levity to his direction. “BOO” doesn’t have any producer credits, but its piano pounds and alarm beeper squeal get lodged into our heads without much resistance. The Youngboy comparisons are inevitable, but H3ADBAND also carries the No Limit combat coding.
Somewhere, J.K. Rowling is spamming the chiraqology Reddit with 3,000 words no one will ever read. And yes, Tadoe is a total Hufflepuff. Keef’s latest loosie is blessedly removed from that exhausted IP — “Harry Potter” is set in a saloon, and the only prop resembling a wand or broomstick is the protagonist’s fat Backwoods. There are more references to Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable (1) than Harry and Hermione (0). Like the best of his self-produced work, Sosa thuds into bass pockets with a slurry but syncopated punch. He starts 2026 sounding truly unbothered. “Ain’t no game, she gon’ give me the headset / fuck all that fake beef, we past that.” These are resolutions we can all get down with.
We’ve come such a long way from the WorldStarHipHop vlogs and uptown studio footage dumps. After 16 years of incarceration, Max B is now reveling in the refurbished Coke Boys budget (here’s to Larry Jackson, once and former Interscoper). “Whippin That Wave” uses fisheye drone shots of the Manhattan skyline and casts glowing storm clouds for extra flash. Director Kid Art and producer Cartier Brown also put an animatronic python atop the custom Rolls Royce truck, and for some reason, a nun militia is shooting at that python. Any questions or concerns are plunged directly into the Hudson River, because Max sounds super crispy on this redemption run’s opening lap. “Left arm, right arm, Glock 9, pipe bomb / came in a degenerate, left it as an icon.” The wave pool has been oxidized. As expected, French Montana sounds rejuvenated (listenable) with his pick-and-roll partner back in the mix. This smirking flip of Wallace Collection’s “Daydream” instantly lifts our spirits. The full Coke Boys 3.5 project drops on Friday.
Some 80 miles north on I-95, Connecticut’s Showly and Tye Henney throw the “Still Tippin” beat through a laundry mat conveyor belt. What comes out at the other end is sparse and immaculately waxed, thanks to the Young Ray-Chill Shump production duo. Together, the vocalists set fire to a football field goal post, then flex from the bleachers. Rook Director gets real sizzle from the monochromatics. On “Money Ain’t a Thing,” whole chickens go from microwave to tidal wave; matte black Mercedes crunch over roach carcasses. Show and Tye pinball off the hook with deceptive density, as their trench talks complement one another like jagged black ice puzzle pieces. Stovetop sounds for what should be a frosty winter.
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