Gucci Mane-Loser

Rating: 5/5

Gucci thinks he’s a loser. He also thinks you’re a loser. Anyone who hustles is 100% a loser and anyone who doesn’t is too. I could have sworn having a drop top was pretty tight, but that also qualifies you as a complete loser. On the other hand Gucci surprisingly confirms that riding around Miami with your shirt off on a scooter does not make you a loser, even though logic would suggest otherwise.  Gucci has somehow leveraged uncannily simple lyrics into a web of complexity and contradiction.  Words that shouldn’t rhyme somehow rhyme. Other words clearly don’t exist at all. I can imagine Gucci stirring his alphabet soup deciding on what word to use next. Fortunately this song slaps:


Artist: 100s
Album: IVRY
Rating: 4.6/5.0

The perfect circumstance for IVRY to glide seamlessly into your ears is underneath a glistening disco ball, drenched fully in lit dry ice, while emerging from a crushed velvet sofa from the back of a club. You’re likely bathed in different types of silk and or cashmere garments. Perhaps a satin turtleneck. Certainly some gator skin. An uncomfortably large rope gold chain rests steadily on your breast.  Everyone else in the club was unaware of your presence, secluded in the plumes of dry ice exhaust, that linger on you momentarily as you effortlessly float to the dance floor. It’s undetermined if they are more mystified by your presence, that they are now aware of, or the existence of a crushed velvet sofa. Either way it is beyond crucial.

The smoothness of IVRY is unrivaled. It’s a glass of 25 year Macallan. A perfectly vintaged saison. Its the slow motion cascading Carmel in the twix commercials. A chinchilla that took a dust bath in cotton candy threads. The consistency of  T1000 from Terminator 2 when it interacts with fire. It has notes of a house party in the mid to late 90’s where everyone has achieved a perfect buzz and has abandoned any self awareness. Lending themselves wholly to the joy of the music and the accompanying bad dance moves. Harmony.Flow.Delivery. Drop the top and enjoy.


Artist: Peaceful Solutions (Kool A.D. and Kassa Overall)
Album: Coke Boys 5
Song: C.R.E.A.M.
Rating: 4.8/5.0

C.R.E.A.M. has the nonchalance of Johnny Utah right before careening out of that airplane without a parachute. It’s a burn track but in the absolute loosest sense of the word. Loose. The entire track is looser than creamed corn. Looser than an ankle in a pair of ill-fitting JNCOs shoplifted from Spencer’s. The flow is effortless, dynamically lazy, and exceptional. An uncalculated masterpiece. C.R.E.A.M. had to have been recorded in the moments immediately after a prolonged nap in a bath that had long since lost it’s warmth.

The uninhibited movement in and out of the beat is infectious. It makes the listener feel like a contributor to an obscure, enduring inside joke. The name of the album and excessive amount of signature rap drops compounds the hilarity. A perfect parody.  Kool A.D. and Kassa Overall have created an indifferent dream team. Their transcendent carelessness is a contributor to the uniqueness of both flow and delivery. Collectively known as Peaceful Solutions, they are quietly becoming one of my favorite rap duos.


Artist: Volcano Choir
Album: Repave
Rating: 4.8/5.0

There’s a certain brilliant malaise that is unique to a Monday.  A characteristic that is not necessarily exclusive to Monday’s, however the degree and regularity of that sentiment on that particular day of the week is a phenomenon unlike any other.  All activity in the days prior become irrelevant, though certain circumstances can make it more miserable than usual.  Ineptitude and futility are the primary personality traits examined. There’s a certain elevated awareness, though frustrating…as it functions only to enhance the ability to notice things that annoy. The lingering day dreams are somewhat enjoyable, though also contribute to ultimate ineffectiveness.

It is important to find an asylum on days like these. Repave functions as that. Allowing the slow welcoming piano, guitar strokes and hollow voice to provide shelter. Getting contentedly lost in the calming lyrics seemed to somehow mercifully expedite the passage of time.

An amazing donation of thoughts to nothing in particular.

Hip$ter $trip Club

Artist: Trinidad James
Album: 10pc. Mild
Song: Hip$ter $trip Club
Rating: 4.7/5.0

It’s impossible to say how long you’ve been here…the absence of a clock, indistinguishable pulsation, and overwhelming amount of sweat pants contribute to the disorientation and vacancy. This isn’t a celebratory strip club run, it’s not in Las Vegas, in fact it’s quite the opposite. This is not a tit ride.

There exists a fascinating dichotomy in strip club clientele, a harmless communal celebration versus the depravity of a solitary sober viewing. Hip$ter $trip Club illustrates the latter in great detail. Trinidad James executes this feeling flawlessly. The smoky, viscous sample coupled with intelligently desperate rhymes and chorus cast the listener deep into the moist shag carpets, the overflowing ash trays, and twelve dollar well drinks.

Staring deep into the rippling drink there exists a moment of clarity, beneath the surface of disintegrating ice cubes. (Hip$ter $trip Club is playing) None of the faces here should look familiar…the gravity of responsibilities outside this existence initiates a descent back to reality… the feeling routinely passes as you settle into the warmth provided by the drink and prepare for your favorite song in the DJ’s tired set list.

Waking Up

Artist: Corner Boy P
Album: Red Eye Mixtape
Song: Winners Never Lose
Rating 4.6/5.0

The first chords emulate the rise or descent in an elevator; it’s undetermined which at this point. The dim, imprecise and strangely welcoming beat envelopes like the feeling of waking up and discovering it’s Saturday, after indulging in an uninterrupted, lengthy night’s slumber. As this warm sound yawns on Corner Boy P’s gentle voice triggers, intricate verses drizzled in every nook and cranny of the beat.  The lyrics ripe with both optimism and distrust. The confidence is infectious.

The elevator is rising.

Chicago Heat

Artist: Hollywood Squadda
Album: In the Name of Greenova EP
Song: Oh Yeah
Rating: 4.5/5.0

The humidity in Chicago 3 days ago was 200%. Every breath was like eating a steaming hot Shepard’s pie. Breathing was an enormous undertaking, as the odious, moist and sticky air did not lend itself to easy consumption or expulsion. A morning where you hate everyone and everything. Exchanging perspiration with jaundiced sunken business man next to you sweating through his suit. Each fried hair on his balding head drenched and clinging to the disintegrating root. Very few things are enjoyable on mornings like these, as no one likes to go to work with a saturated stinking ringpiece, that is generally reserved for the end of the day.

The only escape was the soothing sound of Hollywood Squadda’s Oh Yeah. As my breaking point approached, a calm came over me. The peaceful beat of Oh Yeah had somehow tamed some of my frustration. Hollywood Squadda’s auto tuned voice had transcended the heat and like a lullaby put me into a trance like state where I was vaguely unaware of the heat’s misery. It was welcomed, I sat and enjoyed the song until my stop and promptly left the train thinking it was overall a very bearable experience.




Artist: Dillan Ponders
Album: Overdose
Rating: 4.7/5.0

The inescapable night terrors after a three day blowout, making the prospect of sleep unobtainable at best. That film that builds on your tongue, making it impossible to swallow the morning following a night of overindulgence. The suspicion you’ve been dieting exclusively on burlap rope. Opening your eyelids draining the last bit of energy you had as you succumb to their weight… falling back into a deep exhausting and unsatisfying sleep. An ominous feeling of uncertainty. Overdose manifests these and offers them for consumption in a basin of emptiness.

This is the album that Kanye and Jay Z attempted to create. This is the sound they wanted and couldn’t have. I guess you don’t need Samsung Galaxy commercials to make an incredible piece of art. Overdose is gorgeously destitute. The production is concurrently minimalist and extravagantly dense. The verses sound as though their being transmitted through a tin can phone from the moon. Or whispered in quiet echos throughout a labyrinth of caves. Oddly vacant yet somehow incredibly personal, creating an addictive uncanny feeling. Just Drive is unearthly.


Artist: Steezie Nasa
Song: Art of War
Album: Moor Militia
Rating: 4.6/5.0

Being Illuminati is the only job in which “Love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life” actually applies. I’m 100% confirmed uncertain as to if I believe in the existence of Illuminati. The YouTube and Wikipedia evidence are as infallible as it gets yet I’m still left questioning, wanting to stick my fingers in the wounds. Furthermore entertaining their existence I find myself grappling with supreme adoration and vehement opposition. On one hand an all knowing group of elitist controlling every miniscule part of our existence is unpleasant. However joining those ranks would likely be the dopest job to ever exist.

Steezie Nasa subscribes to the former, with one of the best rap lines delivered in a while “Screaming thug life and kill Illuminati” his conviction is infectious throughout. Also driving the song is a hulking beat, use of that screwed and chopped voice (who could be Illuminati) and Nacho Picasso’s beautifully disturbing and cutting verse.

Patriarch II

Artist: Deniro Farrar
Album: Patriarch 2
Rating: 4.5/5.0

Patriarch II isn’t an mixtape. It is a devastatingly earnest memoir accompanied by immense and varied production. Aforementioned production from (KIRA, Ryan Alexy, Ryan Hemsworth and many others) serve as the perfect receptacle for Deniro’s rasping twang….the evocative landscape for some truly poignant and beautiful narration.

This album is the antithesis of the Yeezus. It doesn’t attempt to be anything. It’s not polarizing or alien. It’s exceptionally human, and therein rests the fascination. Specifically relatable is irrelevant.  Every song is abundant with fluctuating and contrasting emotions. More contemplative than any of his previous albums it’s clear that Deniro is morphing into a hybrid rapper…equal parts malice and thoughtfulness. This type of music sits proudly outside the realm of genres, it is itself and that’s it.

Never has there been such a concentrated intro to an album. Listen to the stunning variation between the two songs.