Art via Evan Solano
Ant shall bring disaster to evil factors.
Wandering Heaven and Earth, AKAI SOLO is asking the big question: “What does me even mean?” The knowledge of self he’s trying to unlock is the core tenet of his peer group (his own Tase Grip crew, MIKE, the 10k Global conglomerate, and the omnipresent Earl Sweatshirt), with each artist hoping to understand what it’s all for.
What AKAI’s mastered on his travels is displaying emotion, whether giggle-fueled joy or stomach-knotting despair, allowing his humanity to shine even when tomorrow shows no sign of light. From my POV, AKAI acts as a reminder to feel every corner of the human experience, letting every exposed nerve lead us to where we belong.
What I appreciate most about Coast Contra as they’ve matured is their willingness to play with each other’s strengths to build bite-sized plays within songs rather than lean on straight-forward bar barrages. Through the sonic lense of a sunkissed ODB demo tape, the four-headed hydra uses “Don’t Worry” to peel back the layers of American living at a time of immense tension. Choreographed with the precision of a girly pop radio tune aiming for TikTok regurgitation, the many faces of North Carolina’s finest rap crew have their own answer as to what will be the final straw to send society crumbling.
For Ras Austin, precariously planted social media discourse will crack any community to pieces if we’re not careful, while RioLoz points to a coming recession. Eric Jamal’s whooping chorus admits the chaos is real, but offers affirmations to push through it. Confident in the grey area is Taj Austin, proud to ride the straight and narrow, keeping the blinders on tight with the hope that the end times prophecies are blown out of proportion, just as they have been for an eternity. If after all these claims of a coming rapture never come to fruition, maybe there’s nothing to worry about after all.
With nothing but a green screen, Coolio braids, and a dream, Dayarga, the French-speaking sparkplug uses hip-hop to bare out sensitive personal conversations in hopes of catalyzing change. Over the past year, he’s released songs toying with gender norms and the lingering black cloud of his mother’s disapproval of his entertainment dreams with visually striking videos (shoutout Topaz) that highlight the non-conformist fluidity of his closet and vision of what his music can be. Today’s lesson? If Google Translate is to be trusted, safe sex.
Dappered down with bright Polos, AliExpress remakes of Over The Top Oakley glasses, and undersized “I <3 Congo>
Detroit is a town fueled by punching in and punching out with blue collar factory workers, corner boys, and studio junkies alike. Lelo’s breakout album from earlier this year, New Detroit, is a continuation of this nose-to-the-grindstone spirit, so much so he’s still shooting out singles like he didn’t just drop a 15-track tape. With lines like “you can’t fit inside these shoes boy they me size,” “Big League” is a shit talker anthem with flecks of that indelible hustler ethos set to soundtrack your next graveyard shift.
Despite the risky move of rock socks pulled to the skies, Papo2oo4 wants to make it known he’s got the most swag on campus, whether he’s enrolled or not. With producer of the year nominee Subjxct 5 ribboning Chaka Khan’s “Thought The Fire” into micro chops Kanye could only dream of tailoring, the Jersey duo realigns the wrinkles in your brain by turning this iconic sample into a refurbished quilt of skittering madness. Pap’s reliable rasp cuts through the chaos with his toolbelt of basketball couplets and motivational speaking, sharing more game than every stuffy Princeton professor combined.
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