Image via Sydney Welch
Steven Louis hates frozen water.
First, a trio of acknowledgements:
1. Fuck ICE. I personally imagine a world without callous, banal evil, and I know we can see it happen – this federal agency is younger than Nellyville. Los Angeles stands up for its neighbors and will not buckle under pressure. We Know The Truth. Let’s meet this rotten present with courage and love. Be safe out there.
2. Jeff’s flip-phone gonzo masterpiece, Waiting for Britney Spears, dropped yesterday. For my money, and my Cash Money Hot Coins (don’t ask, it’s a sunk cost now), no one across the cosmos has a better or more ambitious pen in music criticism. I am psyched out of my mind to read this book.
3. In the spirit of shouting “books!,” this column has included a guided reading question for each song selection. We’re making it out the Scholastic with this one.
Che Noir is the platonic ideal on an Evidence beat. As her name implies, the Buffalo bar goddess conjures visions in grays and blacks, stacking three-syllable schemes without breaking cool or tossing filler. After 80 seconds of uninterrupted delivery, Che bumps up the intensity and cooks with sizzle. “The ones from my hometown be the guys who hate / a bunch of n—that still hang on to high school fame / same ones that went off to college but couldn’t last a year / then they go broke then they wanna start up a rap career.” The Queen glides on a board of chipped, crusty pawns.
Discussion breakout: When Che said, “I’m tryna eat but everybody wants a bite of the sandwich,” what type of sandwich do we think she had? Have you eaten a sandwich? If so, why?
Flint surrealist Louie Ray can be a top-percentile goofball – he has songs named “Coochie,” “Coochie Loose,” “Coochie Allstar Game,” “Coochie Towel” and “Investigate the Coochie.” But he goes Amazing Spider-Man here, swinging through loyalty and hustle across skyline production. Miasayc’s beat has final boss drums and helicopter chase bells ringing out. Louie gets the bag, breaks it down, then brings it around. He’s worried about letting his people down, even as he suspects their true intentions. His latest mixtape, Tables Turn, is a bit more aspirational than previous drops – the word “coochie” is conspicuously absent on the 14-song tracklist.
Discussion breakout: What is the significance of the “Coochie Allstar Game?” Is there a fan vote? Can we bet on it?
I was in college and managing Chicago artists when teenage Lucki Eck$ debuted Alternative Trap. It was an instant phenomenon for stoned, precarious kids around the city – they were genuinely upset that it finished second to Chance the Rapper’s Acid Rap on Fake Shore Drive’s 2013 list. There were persistent rumors about the rising star’s self-destructive tendencies, and for a while, it seemed like he was going to crash out before actualizing the galactic potential. So … it’s weird, and awesome, to see Lucki as an elder statesman. His flow, textures and songmaking approach have now influenced a whole generation of icy croaker rockstars. Here, he blesses Chuckyy with “Hotseat,” lead single off the ascendant OTF rapper’s latest tape. The video is a gallery space car flex, spiced with every video effect known to software. The production (Arthur Bean and Bhristo) is something of an endless alien tundra, clanking and shattering and gusting with coldness. Lucki brings the party supplies, the exotic weapons and the shoes to match the fleet of trucks. He sits solo on an all-black custom Grand Cherokee, as Chuckyy and three friends joyously rap every word atop the red version. The 19-year-old holds his own with a breathless delivery. He pays $6,000 for a jacket and nicknames his promethazine Tristan. This is a coolant for the hot summer ahead.
Discussion breakout: What might the red Grand Cherokee say about Chuckyy and his character motivations? How about Lucki and his jet black one?
North Memphis phonk princess Jaclynn is my clubhouse leader for album art of the year. Her Vibe Wit Me cover says “graphic design is my passion,” while reminding us that 2002 is a state of mind and a practiced science. “Glocks Errwhere” is particularly Triple 6-ish with its contrasting flows. Nephew is buoyant and percussive with the leadoff verse. Goop squawks with south side stop-and-go raps. Then, our lead starts with a controlled Gangsta Boo-esque cadence, before breaking out the semiautomatic double-time rhythm. The Mesopotamia reference at the end made me hit the Funk Flex reaction.
Discussion breakout: Do you indeed vibe with Jaclynn? If so, will you buy her the purple Grand Cherokee?
Here is a limited list of things that earn the titular golf clap, according to Frak, the Bay’s First-Team All-Battle Rapper, and Vallejo extraterrestrial Nef The Pharoah:
Having Nef The Pharoah in your contacts
Having a butt that Nef describes as quiver-inducing
Having a butt that looks cosmetically altered but actually is not
Going crazy at the telly … White Lotus
Flexing horse power … like Jokić
If Nef’s main thing pulls up on him with this white woman, he’s going to say it’s just Frak’s sister. And Nef will go work at Pringles if need be, because he’s a stack getter. Meanwhile, Frak rents a time machine to kill baby Hitler, then bathes the babysitter. Here’s a formal petition to get these two U.S. Open qualification before Thursday’s tee time.
Discussion breakout: Would you beat Rory McIlroy in a three-minute, three-round URL Proving Ground? Would you have to angle, or could you just bar him out of the room?
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