Tuesday, June 20, 2017


Milwaukee has a viable rap scene. I hear a lot of Chicago, some Bay Area by way of Detroit, and a dash of inescapable Atlanta. Question: Has the internet colonized the regional sound, or is it the sole reason we get to hear music that would have been damned to the random-rap afterlife in another era?

In b4 a reputable publication's MILWAUKEE IS THE NEXT RAP SEATTLE thinkpiece/link-dump gets passed around for a week by middle-class rap enthusiasts, who, when the thrill of discovery fades, dispatch its artists into the post-buzz hospice where Tate Kobang and G-Side mumble ciphers into the void. Chuuuuuch.


Lil Tre - Pain

The one that led me down the rabbit hole. Nothing fancy, just some laid-back reality rap for the goth bitch in your soul.

MT ft. Lil Chicken, YBN Kenny & The Mari Boyz- All Stars
Lil Durk making an ATL dance song with a couple guys rapping in the flat Bay Area accent? A light-hearted 3 Problems? SOBxRBE for beer brewers? Whatever the case, the fly athletic gear and sports theme bring ya mans back to earlier days. However, that's not to say I don't think it's totally PUNK when Young Thug wears a stately evening gown on some Audrey Hepburn shit. I'm more tolerant than you.

Mari Boyz - Jugging [sic]

Bleak, singsong street-rap is perhaps the biggest style breakthrough of the late-'00s/early-'10s. Who is the progenitor? Methinks Durk should get some of Keef's reevaluatory shine.

Wednesday, June 14, 2017


Honeycomb Hideout, nigga you be pickin em out
After I take my dick out, then we kickin em out
Stickin the flow, shrimp in my mouth
I won't pass, Ima show you what this pimpin about

Overlooked 2016 Jam now resurfacing on a collection of Ampichino duets. Like most things 'Chino, this is unpretentious roll-up-ya-sleeves rap executed with the professionalism of a plumber who'll unclog ya toilet, hand you a reasonable bill, and sell you a li'l blow while he's at it. A chipmunk soul sample and the back-and-forth patter of two MCs trading greezy quotables on bitches: word to Phil Oakey, these are the things RAP MUSIC HSYTERIA! dreams are made of.  Holla at ya engraver, this one deserves a spot in the hallowed halls of the Honeycomb Hideout.

Wednesday, May 31, 2017


HBK of Doughboyz (a/k/a Kiddo) back wit a solid sophomore outing. It's hard to recover from getting snuffed on film, but HBK's resilience should serve as inspiration for anyone who's been jumped by the metaphorical 15 goons that we call life. "Should I" is just a quality top-down Jay & Jermaine gettin gay in the "Money Ain't A Thing" video type banger, a song you could play as you drive up the West Side Highway in your '95 Miata doin it N.O.R.E.'s way and throwin ones in the air on that Raloesque humanitarian tip, some flossin type shit from a man old enough to remember when Cristal was the preferred fizzy wine, before they got racist and mothafuckas started drinking Ace of Spades or whatever.

You know I like that hardbody Detroit shit as much as the next blogbro, but sometimes I need to take a break from snatching chains and let my luscious bowl cut blow in the wind like Thelma and/or Louise. Chuuuch, my friends, CHUUUUUUUUUUCH.

Friday, May 26, 2017


Rode the snake from the Creek Boyz lake on this one. Let's get one thing straight: "With My Team" is a certified byanger, got pathos out the anus, but a lotta bloggas out here acting like it's a solemn-faced ode to friendship and nothing else. That's a selective reading. Right after thanking God he's not on a tshirt, Turk P. Diddy is back on his bullshit, reminiscing on a bitch who'll let the whole crew run train on her. Group sex expresses some form of male companionship, but it ain't something Teddy Roosevelt would encourage.

Young Fedi Mula (good postmodern rap names, these guys) spends the majority of his verse ranting about freak hoes. This does not bother me. I rock myself to sleep with problematic content. But to deliberately misrepresent the material is not just dishonest and manipulative, it ignores the fact that good rap in the post-gangster era is about contradiction and tension. Moments of extreme profundity are countered by lines of equal crassness; elegies become orgies. This is good.

Long touted as the nĂ¼ Brooklyn, Baltimore's rap surge could be a curse as much as a blessing. Picture twenty years in the future: the Baltimore Sun runs an incendiary article on the privileged yuppies living in Young Moose's childhood home. Yeah, it's crazy. But remember: they got gourmet cheese in Bed Stuy.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017


Ballgreezy might never hit nationally, but he's one of the few jook alumni who's been able to keep da dream goin once the beans ran out. "Nice and Slow" is like "Shone" with an associates degree, a Dillard's perma-press suit, and a $20 gift certificate to SuperCuts. Joining him is Lil Dred, who some may remember from a quality "Ecstasy"/"On & On"* flip from a few years back. Another entry in the catalog of a low-key South Florida stylistic moment, perfect for the pillaging of a Numero Group or German bootlegger 25 years from now.

If "Look At Me!" = crashing a go-kart high on flakka + kicking pregnant women x cos(Dahvie Vanity - Jessi Slaughter), then "Nice and Slow" = sipping on Henny + pulling on the blunt w/ the hard-earned wisdom of maturity + a candy-paint box Chevy - domestic violence x (cutting out coupons for back-to-school sales / working 60+ hours a week with no health insurance)^69. CHUUUUCH.

*How did a guido one-hit-wonder drop the "Triggaman" of more than a decade of Dade + Broward music?

Friday, May 12, 2017


What happened to ignorance? In the early oughts J-Zone assembled the urtext of ignorant rap, a testament to the imaginative power of grotesque sex and reprehensible values. Like a rap game 120 Days of Sodom, the songs are a sometimes hilarious, sometimes disquieting catalog of human urges at their most debased.

Lil Pump may not be able to suck his own dick, but he is fashioning a rap that is literally ignorant. There is nothing unsophisticated or unaware about the Ign'ant fraternity's exhaustive odes to bad morals, rendered in an aficionado's vivid detail, whereas Lil Pump's claim to ignorance rests on recycled Lil B tropes and self-proclamation. Even so, his preoccupation with ignorance is weirdly historical, just as his pared down, repetitive, turnt-up approach evokes a regional lineage not apparent at first glance.

Do I fully understand Lil Pump's appeal? Ya mans ain't Jared Fogle; I hear a Miami teenager, one missed Xan away from a seizure, channeling Famous Dex and Lil Yachty. But his commitment to extreme repetition and brevity sets him apart from his contemporaries, suggesting that one day, if he doesn't evaporate in fiber optics as quickly as he materialized, he might define new limits of deliberate stupidity.

Selected comments from Lil Pump's "Flex Like Ouu" short film:

Monday, April 24, 2017


Troy Ave was never as bad or as good as people said he was. I'll admit, the guy is not perfect. Between ridiculing a paranoid schizophrenic's suicide, Masta Killing a well-known blogger (allegedly!), and Shyne Po'ing up da club (allegedly!), he somehow found time to become the Poochie of NYC Rap Saviors, shoved down the throats of an undeserving public by trusted guardians of the culture like Rob Mark Man and Brian "B, Dot" Millgram. He could have been another Hot 97 charity project, dropping the occasional ill mootsarel sliceadicciano amidst a sea of dollar slices; instead he became test subject for tastemakers overestimating the scope of their influence.

"Never Switch" is a glimpse of what could have been: a hybrid of 50 Cent and Foxy Brown for the mumble-rap era, garnished wit da oregano and pepper flakes of a Lady of Rage or Shawnna. The NYC Deep State thought they was slick pullin some collusion shit, but da invisible hand spoke and gave us Young M.A. Now pour a li'l Manischewitz out for Milton Fried Mane.