Category: Music

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Music

What BTS’s “Dynamite” says about the American Music Industry

Will the success of these global superstars help bring change to a fundamentally xenophobic industry?

After seven years in the music industry, Bangtan Sonyeondan (better known as BTS) have undoubtedly become one of the biggest boy bands in the world, national treasures in South Korea, and a real threat to the historic dominance of English language music in the world’s biggest music market: the United States.

BTS have the Twitter account with the most engagement. They’re the first group since The Beatles to have three Billboard No. 1 albums within the span of a year. In 2019, Time named BTS among the 100 most influential people in the world, and they have one of the best-selling albums of 2020 globally. They have won the most Daesangs in history (a grand prize presented by the Mnet Asian Music Awards, a major award show in Asia). Despite these accomplishments, their literal ARMY of fans, and their undeniable talent, the group has still struggled to gain recognition and respect in America. That might be changing. 

After having already released a Korean and a Japanese album, collaborations with Korean singers Younha and IU and with American singers Lauv and MAX, a song by member V (Kim Taehyung) for Itaewon Class, a song on SoundCloud by member Jungkook (Jeon Jungkook), and a surprise solo mixtape by member SUGA (Min Yoongi) under the alias Agust D, all in 2020, the group released their single “Dynamite” in August.

The music video for the disco-pop infused “Dynamite” broke the YouTube record for biggest video premiere and the most views in 24 hours with 101.1 million views, while the song itself is the fastest to achieve number one on iTunes in 100 countries. It also had the biggest digital sales week for a song since 2017’s “Look What You Made Me Do” by Taylor Swift, and debuted at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 — an  achievement that makes them the first Korean artists to achieve this feat, and the first Asian musicians to do so since Japanese singer Kyu Sakamoto’s “Sukiyaki” in 1963.

It’s an incredible moment in BTS’s career; a breakthrough for them into a market which has historically been very averse to non-English music. The catch is that BTS sang “Dynamite” entirely in English, a first for the group who have been credited with helping to spread the Korean language and culture through their music, which is why they became the youngest ever recipients of the Hwarang Order of Cultural Merit from the President of South Korea in 2018.

Before “Dynamite,” the highest a BTS song had ever charted on Billboard was at number four with the lead single from Map of the Soul 7, “ON.” What made the difference this time is that American radio played “Dynamite.” The Hot 100 factors in not only physical and digital sales and streams, but also radio play. Up until “Dynamite,” American radio had largely refused to play the group’s music.

In an article entitled, “Radio, Why Won’t You Play BTS?” for NowThis News, writers Brian Patrick Byrne and Ahir Gopaldas found that BTS had only been played 83,000 times in the past year in the United States, in comparison to Harry Styles who received three times those spins, Taylor Swift who got 18 times that number, and Post Malone who got 27 times that number.

When complaints are made, DJs and radio stations claim American audiences don’t like non-English music, which is simply not true. Map of the Soul 7 was the best-selling album of 2020 in the United States until it was recently beaten by Taylor Swift’s Folklore. Furthermore,  BTS had easily sold out venues like the Staples Center, Rose Bowl, and Citi Field.

When it was announced that BTS would be releasing an English single, fans were interested to see what radio stations would do. If they didn’t play a successful English-language song it would be clear the reason was simply that a Korean group sang it. On the other hand, if they did play the track, it would be clear that the reason prior hits like “Boy with Luv” and “DNA” were ignored was that they were in Korean. As it turns out, radio did the latter.

American award shows also have a bad rap when it comes to BTS, or K-pop and POC in general, but we’ll get to that. When it comes to award shows they tend to only be nominated for categories like “Top Social Artist”  — minor categories not related to their music — so shows can pretend to be diverse and inclusive without having to actually award the group for their talent.

BTS is used to being snubbed but some cases are a little more difficult for award shows to justify. At the 2020 VMAs, BTS was not nominated for “Best Quarantine Performance,” despite setting a Guinness world record for the largest audience for a paid virtual concert with 756,000 viewers for their Bang Bang Con: The Live Concert.

At the 2020 Billboard Music Awards, the group was not nominated for “Top Touring Artist,” despite ranking number three in Billboard’s own year-end chart for Top 40 Tours. The BBMA nominations instead included the number one, two, four, five, and six tours of the year. Maybe someone just needs to teach Billboard how to count.

You could argue that BTS’s music isn’t good enough to be nominated but you’d be wrong, according to critics. 2019’s Map of the Soul: Persona had an average score of 74/100 on Metacritic, while 2020 Grammy nominees Lil Nas X and Ed Sheeran received scores of 57/100.

You could also argue that these awards are meant for American artists, but you’d be wrong again. At the 2020 VMAs, nominees in major categories included The Weeknd, Justin Bieber, Ed Sheeran, Coldplay, The 1975, Harry Styles, and Dua Lipa, who are all Canadian or European. Yet none of them were put in a World or British or Euro category because they all sing in English. When the Beatles got three number one albums in a year they won three Grammys, when BTS did the same they couldn’t even get a nomination.

This leads to another issue when it comes to not only BTS but also K-pop and POC artists at American award shows: racialized categories. In 2019, BTS’s “Boy with Luv” and Blackpink’s “Kill this Love” music videos both broke the record for the most viewed video in 24 hours on YouTube, but they were simply put in the K-pop category at the VMAs, and excluded from Video of the Year. Another nominee in the 2019 Best K-pop category was Monsta X’s “WHO DO U LOVE,” a song sung entirely in English, meaning the nomination was based on ethnicity. Though artists like BTS and Blackpink aren’t exclusively nominated in the racialized K-pop category (both were nominated for best group at the 2019 VMAs), what the “K-pop” category does is help segregate Korean artists and exclude them from major categories.

It says that what they do is different, and implies that this “kind of music” is lesser than. To even lump all K-pop artists together in one category has racist undertones  — there is no sound specific to K-pop. It’s actually known for its incredible diversity and experimentation, but the category implies that it all sounds the same because it’s sung in Korean.

T.O.P. of the K-pop group BIGBANG made a pointed jab in an interview with The Washington Post when he said, “You don’t divide pop music by who’s doing it. We don’t say, for instance, ‘white pop’ when white people make music.”

What these award shows are doing with K-pop, however, is far from new. They’ve been doing it to Black people for decades. Black artists — when nominated at all — have historically been nominated in categories like R&B and hip hop. These genres were unquestionably created by Black people, and have real characteristics. The existence of these categories is not the issue. The issue is that award shows have relegated Black artists to these categories in place of major ones, regardless of the actual genre of the music they make.

For some perspective, Beyoncé is the most Grammy-nominated woman of all time but most of her wins are in racialized categories. Though nominated three times for album of the year she has lost to Adele, Beck, and Taylor Swift.

So winning in categories like “Best K-pop” or “Best R&B” has become a sort of second-place trophy. In 2020 Tyler, the Creator won a Grammy for Best Rap Album but criticized the Grammys for placing “guys that look like me” in rap and urban categories, calling the categorization of his music as rap “a backhanded compliment.”  

A 1999 piece in the New York Times about world music written by ex-Talking Heads frontman David Byrne feels very relevant to how K-pop, R&B, hip hop, and rap are treated:

“In my experience, the term world music is a way of dismissing artists or their music as irrelevant to one’s own life. It’s a way of relegating this ‘thing’ into the realm of something exotic and therefore cute, weird but safe, because exotica is beautiful but irrelevant; they are, by definition, not like us. Maybe that’s why I hate the term. It groups everything and anything that isn’t ‘us’ into ‘them.’ This grouping is a convenient way of not seeing a band or artist as a creative individual, albeit from a culture somewhat different from that seen on American television. It’s a label for anything at all that is not sung in English or anything that doesn’t fit into the Anglo-Western pop universe this year.”

How BTS is treated is not the exception, it’s representative of an industry built on racism and xenophobia. They have been subjected to both microaggressions and outright racism both to their faces in interviews and in how the media talks about them. Complimenting leader and rapper RM (Kim Namjoon)’s English, asking them if they’re surprised about their success in America, being infantilized, interviewers not learning their names or doing research, focusing on the white people who work with them, comparing them to white people, etc.

These incidents dwell on BTS’s otherness, diminish and discredit their talent. It implies that someone from a non-English speaking country is less intelligent and deserving, and that to be successful a white person needs to be involved.

This language can also flirt with the racist trope that all Asians look alike — during their second appearance on Ellen, the host made BTS introduce themselves again because they had changed their hair. In a segment on Australia’s Channel 9, comedian Jimmy Carr said, “When I first heard something Korean had exploded in America, I got worried, so I guess it could have been worse, but not much worse.” In that same segment, the hosts called their names (half of which are their real ethnic names) “gangster,” suggested that they should get rid of four members, and joked that the group spoke about hair products during their speech at the UN.

BTS have only recently begun to speak out on the racism and xenophobia they have experienced in America. Weverse Magazine (created by the entertainment company that manages BTS) recently highlighted an incident earlier this year on The Howard Stern Show where, days after BTS visited the station, staff member Sal Governale said, “There’s no way those guys don’t have coronavirus.” In a recent interview with Reuters RM said, “Since we’re like aliens to the music industry for America so (sic) we don’t know if there’s a place for us or not.” It’s also incredibly heartwarming to see the group support the fight for Black Lives Matter, making a million dollar donation to the cause (which was matched by fans), and making a statement, cementing their status as socially conscious global artists.

“Dynamite” seems to be changing the tides for BTS in the American music industry: they’re getting radio play, proper media coverage, and being asked about their music rather than their favourite colour in interviews. The success of “Dynamite” is bittersweet for fans. It’s deserved of course, but it’s unfortunate that the group had to sing in English to finally get what they deserve in America, and it exposes the industry’s xenophobia.

To someone unfamiliar with BTS it might seem like they’ve finally caved after years of being asked to make music in English or like they’re selling out to please the western music industry. However, lyricism has been important to members of BTS since their debut in 2013, particularly with rappers RM, SUGA, and J-Hope (Jung Hoseok), who have songwriting credits for most of the 145+ songs in their discography. BTS is also known in K-pop for their lyrical content, which is generally deeper and more clever than the general public in America knows.

From criticizing the rigid school system in Korea, societal expectations placed on young people and generational disparities, to discussing mental health, grief, growing up, self-love, and references to analytical psychology, German literature, Bong Joon-ho’s Snowpiercer, the legend of the Pied Piper, the novels of Haruki Murakami, The Little Prince, Greek mythology, and the Japanese cartoon superhero Anpanman, BTS sing about it all.

“Dynamite” has a simple generic message of positivity which is the exception in their discography  — as is the fact that none of the members have songwriting credits for it  — so it’s a shame that the general public will continue to believe the group just makes generic happy pop music. At a press conference for “Dynamite,” RM said, “It doesn’t have an overarching macro-level message. Sometimes, simpler messages really get across.”

Language is an important part of identity and art, something English speakers often forget because our language and culture is everywhere. So despite RM’s fluency in English, part of his artistry, and the artistry of the other members, lies in the Korean language with which they create wordplay and poetry that just wouldn’t translate into English, and that is part of the beauty of it. And yet “Dynamite” was completely in English.

After hearing the demo, which was written by David Stewart and Jessica Agombar, the group thought it was perfect as it was, and thought singing in English would be a nice challenge. While doing promotions for the single, BTS have made it clear that they will continue recording music primarily in Korean, that singing “Dynamite” in English was an exception. Thus with the anticipated release of yet another BTS album before the end of 2020, it will be very interesting to see how it is handled in the United States after “Dynamite’s” triumph.

Though it’s important to criticize the industry, we also need to change our perspective that you need to “make it” in America in order to be a successful and important artist — that perspective is deeply western-centric. BTS doesn’t need a Grammy, they have already proven their talent in countless ways throughout their career and been recognized for it by fans, the UN, the South Korean government, and Asian award shows. However, they have repeatedly expressed their desire to perform a solo stage at the Grammys (the group performed “Old Town Road” alongside Lil Nas X in 2020) and to be nominated for and win a Grammy, so their fans are trying to make it happen for them.

Bong Joon-ho’s Best Picture win at the 2020 Oscars for Parasite, and the Recording Academy’s effort to diversify their membership (who vote for the Grammys) by inviting BTS and the CEO of their label to join, are signs of positive change. Not just for recognition and respect for BTS in the west or even for Korean artists, but for all non-English, non-western art. The industry can’t keep the doors closed to non-English music much longer; the world is becoming much too globalized, and fans can easily spot its cop outs and performative diversity. The industry might think that BTS have started playing by their rules, but it’ll be in a tough spot when they drop a Korean album in the next few months, which, like anything BTS touches will inevitably be successful. I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled to see what the industry does with BTS in the future.

Graphic by Taylor Reddam

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Music Quickspins

QUICKSPINS: YoungBoy Never Broke Again – Top

YoungBoy Never Broke Again’s latest album proves that his momentum has yet to reach its peak.

YoungBoy Never Broke Again continues his incredible streak with his newest album Top. The Youtube king stayed in his bag and did what he does best by staying true to the YoungBoy brand with his hard-hitting aggressive style, coupled with his melodic flow. The Baton Rouge-born rapper worked with his regular producers, including Hitman Audio and DrumDummie, delivering a sound that makes his music so addictive he’s the most listened-to Youtube artist in the world.

On Top, YoungBoy proves he can rap on one of the world’s hottest producers’ beats on the Wheezy collaboration “I’m Up” by owning the beat from start to finish.  As far as sequencing goes, the transition from “The Last Backyard…” to “Right Foot Creep” and then to “Dirty Stick” is vintage YoungBoy that delivers his well-known compelling sound made of his punchy flow and sticky hooks. These songs flow so well together that it’s not hard to figure out why YoungBoy’s Youtube numbers are second to none.

Lil Wayne finally gave YoungBoy a blessing in the form of a verse on “My Window,” where YoungBoy taps into his emotional side — reflecting on his past and subsequent growth, which is a common theme of the album. He also rapped on Mike Laury’s beat on “Off Season” after originally collaborating for their smash hit “Through The Storm” in 2018. This time, YoungBoy talks about his love life.

After getting emotional for a few songs in a row, he goes back to his gangster roots after all, with bangers like “Murder Business” and “Sticks with Me.”

If anyone still doesn’t understand the appeal of YoungBoy Never Broke Again, this album is a perfect introduction to the 20-year-old. He rides on every beat Hitman Audio throws his way and his flow is infectious, which is simply pleasant to hear over and over again.

Even The Shade Room, a widely popular gossip page on Instagram, has trouble keeping up with YoungBoy’s trials and tribulations of his love life and legal problems, but he really seems to be that dude living the life that most rappers simply rap about. He is doing so by documenting it in his music and that seems to be the key to his unstoppable momentum. Most importantly, his music on this album feels real.

If you compare him to other rappers of his age, YoungBoy is just head and shoulders above everyone else and looks to be embracing the role of the leading trailblazer of this generation.

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Music

The Globalization of Travis Scott

Travis Scott’s transformation from rapper to music oligarch to meme proves that money always beats art

It’s about 1 a.m. and you and your friend Tanner are driving to get food after a long night. As you both approach the golden arches of a local McDonald’s in a beat-up Honda Civic, you decide to connect your phone to the aux. Presented with a myriad of new albums and singles to listen to, you know there’s really only one song you can play.

Once the drive-thru worker asks for your order, you pause, just long enough to add dramatic effect, and whisper, “you know why I’m here.” “Sicko Mode” starts playing.

“Cactus Jack sent me,” you add.

While this seems like a soap-opera dramatization of the ordering, it’s actually not that far off from what’s really happening. In case you haven’t been following, Travis Scott recently announced a collaboration with McDonald’s in which the fast-food giant is trying to sell a quarter pounder with bacon as a meal called “The Travis Scott.” And if you thought this might be the most ridiculous collaboration, you may very well be right.

This collaborative effort comes right off the heels of Scott’s puzzling song “The Plan” made specifically for Christopher Nolan’s new movie Tenet.

In the real world, people are getting yelled at by other McDonald’s customers for recording annoying TikToks of them ordering “The Travis Scott” meal. Others are parodying the stupidity of this whole affair, and some are spending their money buying the bland collaborative merch between Travis Scott and the enormous fast-food chain.

Travis Scott has transcended artistry. He is a business mogul and a meme now, all to his benefit. He can release a phoned-in feature and no one will care. He can drop the worst merch ever, including a chicken-nugget-themed-body-pillow, and get people to buy it. He can release a whole Netflix documentary, and the fans will eat it up like it’s an Oscar-nominated piece of work.

Despite this level of superstardom, Travis Scott feels less like a human being every year and more like a machine meant to satisfy your wants and needs than an actual person who cares about their craft.

And the worst part is that Scott’s music isn’t even all that terrible. Out of all his projects, there are only one or two entries that completely miss the mark. Days Before Rodeo, Rodeo, and Astroworld are good-to-great albums that show he can be fun and entertaining, if a little vapid.

But quality aside, Scott’s numbers began to hit the stratosphere after the release of his second album Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight, a record that took the world by storm with the inclusion of the Kendrick Lamar-assisted hit, “Goosebumps.”

This was the beginning of the rise of Travis Scott, the meme.

Travis Scott was everywhere. There wasn’t a single on the album that he couldn’t have pushed more. At the time, he seemed primed to at least compete with Drake and Kendrick for being one of the most commercially successful artists.

Then came Fortnite, the massive battle royale game that had the world entrenched in its complex yet accessible gameplay. Following a few years of success, Fortnite itself transcended being a game. In fact, it halted the actual battle-royale aspect of the game for a few evenings when they announced a live, in-game Travis Scott concert.

Obviously, Scott wasn’t performing on a stage inside the game’s only level, but it was an expensive psychedelic experience akin to a Travis Scott video that had a number of my friends ask me to virtually go with them. To these friends, I’m sorry I had to say no.

But just because his music is accessible doesn’t mean it should be thrown everywhere. To be a Travis Scott fan in 2020 is to not just enjoy his music, but to enjoy and, without any doubt, gobble up everything this man has to offer.

And this is the problem with how we treat artists. We give them all the platforms they can use because the bottom line is obviously money. The music business is still a business, after all. But Travis Scott seems to have traded all his humanity for an increasing slew of income, even if it means dropping cop-out merch and sending features to other artists that should’ve stayed in the vault.

With this Travis Scott obsession taking over the world, the resale value of anything Travis Scott-related has become astronomical. His collaborative effort with Reese Puffs, which is literally Travis Scott branding on their usual cereal boxes, at one point sold for $400 on eBay, while some listings still have it at over $200 CAD. Teens are stealing the Travis Scott burger posters. To his fans, Travis Scott is a god.

Treating artists like deities has proven to have a horrible track record, but Travis Scott is perhaps beyond even being a deity. Maybe he’s the Zeus to Drake’s Ares, but even Drake knows his limits.

It’s interesting to watch this development (and collapse if you’re not as big a fan of his music) because he was and still is a mogul in hip hop and mainstream pop. But if there’s one thing Travis Scott won’t do, it’s giving up the spotlight. He lives in it and would never relinquish it. He might know the cost, but let’s be real, he absolutely does not care. We should stop caring too.

 

Graphic by @the.beta.lab

 

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Music

The perfect swan song: when should musicians retire?

 In such a creative field, can there really be a right time for musicians to call it a day?

Music is a unique business in that there isn’t really a retirement plan. We’ve seen acts like The Band take their last waltz, only to return a decade later with some of their original lineup missing. We’ve also seen instances of artists like the Rolling Stones slowing down their musical output to a halt but continuing to perform their classic hits. There are even a few who’ve retired completely, like the legendary Bill Withers, who released his final album in 1985 and never released another original recording.

 The thing with music is that, on top of the lack of a retirement plan, there’s no set age or album limit on creating quality music. Some artists peak higher than others, some peak later in life, some burn out quickly and some just never really get it going.

With that in mind, when is the right time for an artist to throw in the towel? And how much does missing that window of time impact an artist’s legacy?

In July of this year, Grammy-nominated, multi-platinum rapper Logic announced that he was retiring and stepping away from music at the age of 30, after dropping his final album, No Pressure. The Maryland-born artist has his personal reasons for retirement (fatherhood and a new deal with livestreaming behemoth, Twitch), but has also made it clear that there is another major factor involved in him quitting music.

Logic’s last few albums, prior to No Pressure, had been receiving increasing amounts of criticism from critics and fans alike. He went from the up-and-coming sensation to being one of the most consistently bashed rappers of his generation within the span of a decade.

This wasn’t just fans being petty or making a joke at the expense of the rapper because they felt like it, this was a direct reflection of the direction Logic was going musically. His early mixtapes showed a young rapper with immense talent and potential, and as he grew in popularity, that potential was squandered. After such a tumultuous decade in the music business, he finally called it quits, delivering his best album in about five years.

While he may not have gone out on the top of his game, No Pressure did serve as his redemption after years of lacklustre output and criticism. He may not have gone out with a bang, but he certainly didn’t go out with a whimper either.

The interesting thing about his retirement is that, while his track record isn’t expunged of the subpar releases that plague the latter half of his catalogue, Logic still retired on a fairly high note. On top of that, he himself noticed the downward trend of his music’s reception, even if he was proud of the music itself, and corrected his course for one last release. While No Pressure isn’t a ground-breaking album sonically, it showed that he is still a capable rapper, and left fans content with his final farewell.

The foresight it took to recognize that his window was closing is impressive, but it’s also something that music fans don’t see often — if ever. In fact, it’s more common for listeners to watch their favourite artists sell out or fall off while attempting to maintain their relevance or refusing to evolve at all and running their sound into the ground.

Louis Armstrong once said that “musicians don’t retire; they stop when there’s no more music in them,” but what if that wasn’t the case? What if musicians did retire, and they did so because they had no more quality music in them? As subjective of a concept as that is, what if artists recognized themselves being passed their prime and prevented any legacy-damaging musical output?

When you look at a band like Maroon 5, who have been a chart-dominating group since the early-to-mid 2000s, you can see that they’re a shell of what they once were. The group has essentially morphed from a solid pop-rock band to Adam Levine latching onto popular sounds, genre-hopping and churning out trendy singles with little-to-no substance. They’re so far removed from what they once were that if you played the biggest single from their first and last album back to back, you wouldn’t be able to tell that it’s the same group.

As the times have changed, people’s musical tastes have too, and in order to survive in the mainstream/pop landscape, artists like Maroon 5 must adapt to these changes, or fade away. In adapting to these changes, they started pandering to different demographics, sacrificing the integrity and quality of their music for increased popularity and longevity.

This degradation of quality in an artist’s music isn’t always the result of selling out, pandering or changing too much. Sometimes artists refuse to grow or evolve musically and that lack of growth leads to repetitive, boring music. 

Eminem is nearing 50 years old, and he’s still hurling around homophobic slurs and dissing artists for shock value in his music, and it feels like no matter how negatively his music is received he just doubles down on it. He raps like an old man, sitting in a room and yelling at the walls about how great things were in his heyday, and it’s because he’s run out of things to say.

He hasn’t really had a potent idea for a record since Recovery, which isn’t very good itself, but at least it had clear intentions and something to say. Now the music is just hollow syllables laid over more contemporary production.

Along with both Eminem and Maroon 5’s respective music decreasing in quality, they share another massive commonality, and that’s their stature in the industry. Both of these acts, and even Logic to a lesser extent, are massively popular major label artists. They’re not the same extremely passionate artists that worked on their earlier albums, they’re part of the machine that is the music business, and that plays a huge part in their decline.

At a certain point, after such lengthy and successful careers, these acts have become less focused on the art and more focused on maintaining their relevance. Maroon 5 through their blatant trend-chasing, and Eminem by having albums with a few poppy singles and a bunch of songs that attempt to re-hash elements of his classics. They’re not creating for the purpose of creation or passion, they’re pandering to maintain popularity, but these are the pressures of the industry.

In both of these cases, these artists reached a crossroads: do they stop with their legacies and reputations intact, or do they continue and risk damaging their names? They chose the latter, for whatever purpose, and are taken less and less seriously with each release. Maroon 5 are now regarded as nothing more than an obnoxious group of sellouts, and people are now questioning Eminem’s status as an all-time great rapper.

That being said, just because a popular artist is in a decline doesn’t mean they’ve got nothing left in them, just that they may need to step away — at least for a while. We’ve seen artists like Jay-Z, Judas Priest and Bob Dylan all hit late-career home runs, even after a few middling-to-poor releases have piled up in their catalogue. They were all able to step away for a while and come back with some of their later works being some of their best. They are rare cases but they prove that the late-career return to form is possible.

So, when is it the right time for an artist to step away from recording for good? It’s possible that there is no right answer to the question, as a lot of knowing when to call it a day comes with hindsight. But in an ideal situation, an artist would either recognize their decline as it begins, or soon after and fade away, either temporarily or for good.

In such an artistic and individual profession, it’s easy to overlook the signs, but acknowledging them could save an artist’s legacy. Not everyone can go out on top, but with that self-awareness, they can come close.

 

Graphic by @the.beta.lab

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Music Quickspins

QUICKSPIN: Conway The Machine – From King to A GOD

The Buffalo MC comes through with his third release of the year, and his best solo work to date

Throughout the last few years, the Griselda crew have solidified themselves as one of hip hop’s most highly regarded acts. With multiple high-quality projects released every year and a consistent signature sound, the group has set a high standard for their releases. On his latest release, founding member Conway The Machine continues the tradition, with yet another gem being added to the crew’s catalogue.

On From King To A GOD, Conway’s mastery of his craft is apparent, and though he was already elite, he is in rare form on this LP. He spends the album’s runtime spitting verses like a seasoned veteran in the genre, even going bar-for-bar with legends like Method Man and Lloyd Banks. His unique drawl — the result of his Bell’s Palsy — paired with his fiery flow and distinct delivery make him completely captivating on every instrumental his voice touches.

Lyrically, the album contains a good balance of Griselda’s signature gritty street raps, and more intimate moments of introspection, grieving and reflection on society’s ills. On “Front Lines,” we see Conway delivering an extremely potent verse responding to the murder of George Floyd, over a grimy, sinister Beat Butcha instrumental that perfectly captures the horror, pain and aggression in Conway’s lyrics.

On the emotional, Erick Sermon-produced “Forever Droppin Tears,” Conway reminisces about close friends that he’s lost over the years, including Griselda producer DJ Shay, who passed away earlier this year. His reflections on losing some of those closest to him and the trauma attached to it are felt through the pain in his voice. It’s a touching moment on the album, and one of the most personal songs in Conway’s entire catalogue.

There are several soundbites peppered throughout the album of DJ Shay being interviewed regarding the Griselda crew, and Conway specifically. It’s clear that Shay had a deep admiration for Conway and his craft, and vice versa, and Conway misses him dearly. These interview clips serve as a fitting tribute for DJ Shay, while showcasing just how highly Conway’s peers think of his abilities.

With From King To A GOD, Conway reminds us how elite of a lyricist he is, while also showcasing sides of himself that fans may not be familiar with. Striking that balance between the street raps, and the new, more personal content, he shows growth while keeping the album’s sound familiar. This project is his most well-rounded work to date, and with it being billed as the prelude to his Shady Records debut, it looks like Conway is gearing up for something special.

 

8.5/10

Trial Track: Forever Dropping Tears

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Music Quickspins

QUICKSPINS: Big Sean – Detroit 2

The Motor City rapper’s latest highlights his personal and artistic growth, but suffers from a bloated tracklist.

Over the course of the last decade or so, Big Sean’s inconsistency has become the biggest hindrance to the quality of his projects. Historically, the Motor City rapper’s flashes of greatness have often been overshadowed by an abundance of corny punchlines and weak deliveries. Detroit 2 tries to correct this trend, as Sean is at his most refined — but while it makes for higher highs, it also makes the lows more apparent.

One of this album’s clearest strengths is Sean’s growth. It’s apparent that the man who made juvenile and shallow singles like “IDFWU” and “Dance (A$$)” has left those days behind him. In spending years meditating and reflecting, his newfound clarity and focus has also manifested in him becoming a much better rapper. Detroit 2 sees Sean improving lyrically and sees an exponential boost in his confidence on the mic, making him much more interesting to listen to.

The majority of the album’s tracks are his most mature to date as well, dealing with anxiety, depression, romance and emerging from his darkest period with a newfound sense of purpose. Songs like the Nipsey Hussle-assisted single “Deep Reverence” and “Everything That’s Missing” see Sean discussing his struggles with mental health and his lack of fulfillment despite his fame and accolades. There’s a level of introspection and depth present on this album that we’ve yet to see from Sean up to this point, and they result in some of the best songs in his catalogue.

Unfortunately, while the album does have a lot of quality tracks, a chunk of its songs range from mediocre to bad. “Friday Night Cypher” which features 10 of Detroit’s finest rappers, including Eminem, is a mixed bag, to say the least. With some jarring beat switches and some extremely phoned-in guest contributions, it’s a jumbled mess even with its bright spots. The album’s lowest point though is “Time In” performed by Sean and Jhené Aiko as TWENTY88, a song that sees the pair harmonizing about their relationship over an airy, synth-laced instrumental. It features Sean’s worst performance on the album, as both his rapped verse and vocal harmonies are horrible.

This album could’ve used more quality control, as there is a great album hiding in Detroit 2’s overly-long, 71 minute runtime. There are enough highs here that if the 21-song tracklist was cut down to about 15 or so tracks, including the fantastic guest stories, it could’ve been his undisputed magnum opus. Still, in spite of its flaws, Detroit 2 is Big Sean’s best album in years, maybe his discography, even if it doesn’t quite live up to its potential.

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Music

Dope.Gng, brotherhood, and their latest album, Drogue Maison

The Montreal rap duo details their symbiotic relationship while making their latest full-length project

Dope.Gng is for the ragers. The Montreal-based hip hop duo, made up of rappers Zilla and Yabock, isn’t here to reinvent the rap wheel. What they are here for, however, is to obliterate your speaker system with booming bass and a smorgasbord of creative melodies that’ll stay stuck in your head for days.

Though they haven’t been around for a long time, Dope.Gng understands the importance of identity. They originally started out as Dopamine, a harmless musical project with the intent of just dropping bangers on Soundcloud. The more they continued to drop music, the more they started to take it seriously.

“We wanted to make [Dopamine] serious and a central part of our lives,” Zilla told me over a Zoom call. “We wanted to put our all into it and rebrand.”

With that, Dopamine died and Dope.Gng was born.

In 2019, Dope.Gng unveiled their first mixtape, Fiend, a low-stakes project that would showcase the young duo’s ability to rap, and more importantly, create hits. In that rookie effort, you could hear glimpses of Kanye, Kid Cudi, and Travis Scott, but really, the comparisons are surface level.

After dropping Fiend, Dope.Gng refused to stop. They followed it up with countless singles, videos, and live performances, all of which helped fuel the creation of their second full-length project Drogue Maison.

Zilla and Yabock treat Drogue Maison like their firstborn. While they still love Fiend, they went into it knowing it was just a mixtape. This new project, a much more dense and focused one, sounds like the two young Montrealers know exactly where they’re headed.

Despite a drug-heavy allusion on the album’s title, drugs weren’t actually the central theme to the project itself.

“[Drogue Maison] is actually a reference to our apartment,” Zilla continued. “That’s where everything went down. We have a home studio and everything was actually made in the house.”

With both rappers living together and creating in the same space, it was vital for Zilla and Yabock to not only be coworkers and roommates but to be brothers too. Their duality on Drogue Maison is the driving force behind the album’s cohesiveness and the chemistry they show when rapping back and forth on the album.

“When I’m making music alone, sometimes I think I need [Zilla] to come and complement it with his sauce,” Yabock added. “I make better music when he’s around.”

Dope.Gng’s symbiotic relationship is, on its own, proof that Drogue Maison is the floor and not the ceiling when it comes to their potential. They both repeatedly claim that the quality of their music stems from trust and teamwork.

“If I’m stuck with a verse or if I need a rhyme, I’m gonna ask [Yabock]. We’re a team, we’re not gonna be fighting over intellectual property,” concluded Zilla.

 

Photo Credit: Béatrice Félixe

 

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Music Quickspins

QUICKSPIN: The Killers – Imploding the Mirage

The Killers are as confident as ever on their sixth studio album

Admittedly, none of the four singles leading up to The Killer’s sixth studio album suggested that it would be a hit. As standalones, the singles sounded very similar to what one would come to expect from frontman Brandon Flowers after nearly two decades in the spotlight. However, pieced together as one cohesive body of work, Imploding the Mirage may be one of the stronger projects to emerge from the Las Vegas legends in a long while.

Originally intended as a spring release, The Killers announced that they would delay their album until Dec. 31, 2020 due to the ongoing pandemic and inability to tour. However, a change of heart on behalf of the band brought the release date forward into August. Perhaps they felt like their fans could use some throwback-esque Killers in such dire times.

From the intro song “My Own Soul’s Warning” to the closing title track, Imploding the Mirage is as grandiose and vibrant as the name alludes. Flowers is back in his element, with superb songwriting about longing for love while searching for signs from the heavens where his often-soft-spoken verses culminate to a powerful chorus. The album is reminiscent of Sam’s Town, the best project in their catalogue, mixed with their later love for synthesizer on every song. The Killers feel like they have found their voice once again, and Flowers is sounding more comfortable than ever.

Rating: 8/10

Trial Track: “Blowback”

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Music

Underrated albums of 2020, Vol. 2: Kacy Hill – Is It Selfish If We Talk About Me Again

Kacy Hill’s GOOD Music tenure was uneventful. Now as an independent artist, her music can shine without lofty expectations

When Kacy Hill first emerged into the mainstream as a feature on Travis Scott’s “90210,” it was apparent that she was a star in the making. Prior to that, Kanye West’s infamous GOOD Music label had signed her to a deal after West heard her promotional single “Experience” on his The Yeezus Tour in 2013. Clearly, he saw her potential before anyone else did — a very Kanye thing to do.

Though Hill has a soothing voice and a good ear for beats, she was, for the most part, mishandled by GOOD Music. All the music she released under West’s imprint had pretty much gone by the wayside. With a disturbing lack of label-backing and nearly zero marketing for her debut album Like a Woman, it seemed like her career came to a jarring halt nearly as soon as it began.

GOOD Music has received its fair share of criticism for squandering young talent —  like Desiigner, Cyhi The Prynce, Valee — so it’s understandable that Hill decided to cut ties with West’s once-legendary label. With her departure from the imprint came a more stable release cycle for her music. Despite not having dropped a full album in 2018 or 2019, she released a handful of loosies that would keep whatever fans were still tapped in after her split.

Then came her sophomore album Is It Selfish If We Talk About Me Again. Released entirely independently, Hill’s newest album is not only a return to form but an indication that she’s confident in her own lane of indie-pop.

Kacy Hill made her album without it sounding like a glaring attempt at re-emerging into the mainstream. Her songwriting on tracks like “Much Higher” and “Everybody’s Mother” proves that she can not only sing the hell out of a dreamy pop ballad but write one with extreme care and tenderness.

The sole feature comes from Francis and the Lights on “I Believe in You” and the pairing is as natural as you’d expect. The group is also a GOOD Music signee but their chemistry together is simply an example of what could’ve been if the label had treated her music with the same level of importance that they treat Big Sean and Teyana Taylor.

Is It Selfish If We Talk About Me Again is the type of album you’d put on a Sunday evening in August. It sounds like the summer ending, despite an early May release. It’s chill, relaxing, and thoughtful enough to keep your attention both by the gentle instrumentals and by Hill’s introspective and reflective songwriting.

It’s also a testament to releasing music independently. GOOD Music clearly had a winner on their label and didn’t know what to do with her. It’s a shame that this is such a common occurrence in 2020, as independent artists have proven time and again that they know best when it comes to their own music. Is it surprising? Not really. At least Kacy Hill figured it out.

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Music Quickspins

QUICKSPINS: Aminé – Limbo

Aminé refines his sound and raises the bar for himself on Limbo

Since the 2016 release of his now multi-platinum breakthrough single “Caroline,” Aminé has shown consistent growth and improvement with every release. Limbo continues this trend for the Portland rapper, combining and refining the best aspects of his previous two releases, resulting in his best and most mature work to date.

Aminé’s biggest strength is the individuality that has been present in his music since he first jumped onto the scene. His versatile and bouncy flow mixed with his trademark wit and humour have been staples of his work thus far. On this album, we see him successfully blend these aspects with more pungent, mature and introspective lyrics and topics, giving his music more depth while maintaining its distinct personality.

This personality is present regardless of the sound or content that a given song is going for. As varied as Limbo’s instrumentals are, including everything from bass-heavy bangers to more melodic R&B-leaning tracks, his unique voice and style manage to make these tracks unmistakably Aminé.

That’s not to say that he feels out of place in the modern hip hop landscape, more that he manages to stand out, even when incorporating more trendy, contemporary sounds. Limbo features an extremely diverse guest list that backs this up. The album contains features from Young Thug, Charlie Wilson, Vince Staples and Slowthai, the latter two appearing on “Pressure in My Palms” together, and all of them feel right at home in Aminé’s world.

The only song that feels like it’s out of place on this project is “Easy,” featuring Summer Walker. That’s not to say that the song is inherently bad, it’s actually quite good, it just feels like a standard fare Summer Walker song that Aminé is featuring on. Still, it’s not enough to break up the flow of the album or take away from its highs, which there are plenty of.

The biggest highlight and takeaway from Limbo is Aminé’s growth both as an artist and as a man. On songs like “Mama” and “Fetus,” he manages to showcase more depth and introspection than on previous releases, all while maintaining the humorous charm he’s become known for.

Overall, Aminé shows that he’s improved in nearly every facet on Limbo. He manages to strike a near-perfect balance between the aspects of his music that thrive in their uniqueness and contemporary hip hop conventions. With two solid projects already under his belt, Aminé has delivered once again and has proven to be one of the most exciting young acts in the genre.

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Music

Underrated albums of 2020, Vol. 1: Andy Shauf – The Neon Skyline

The Saskatchewan-born artist narrates a tale of a lonely man spending a night out with his friends, and his regrets.

Canadian singer-songwriter Andy Shauf has a seemingly innate ability to capture and express human emotion through the stories he tells. On his latest release, The Neon Skyline, Shauf plays the narrator in a first-person story with a full cast of characters that charmingly and intimately explores the full spectrum of human emotion.

Shauf tells the story of a young man who calls up his friend Charlie one night and they head to their favourite local bar, the titular Neon Skyline. While they’re enjoying their drinks together, Charlie breaks the news to our narrator that his ex-girlfriend Judy is back in town.

This news begins to consume our narrator’s thoughts, as he becomes ruefully nostalgic about their relationship, recalling everything from the pleasant times to the miserably bitter. From “Where Are You Judy” to “Things I Do” we hear the narrator’s poetic reflections on their time together, from more pleasant memories to those that led to their relationship’s eventual ending.

While reminiscing on the love that they once shared, he begins to hope that he’ll run into her while he is out so he can attempt to rekindle the flame they once had. As the night progresses, we see the narrator and his friends having deep conversations and drunkenly deciding to hit the town, when they run into Judy on “The Moon.”

This track and “Try Again” feel almost like a single song with two parts, as they both focus on the time the pair spend together after running into one another. During this time, our narrator becomes enamoured with her once again, though this doesn’t last long, as Judy reminds him, both directly and indirectly, that they can’t restore what they once had. These two tracks are clear highlights on the album, with beautiful writing that is simple and concise yet completely captivating as we see our hopeful narrator fumble his way through their time together.

The last two tracks see their night reach its inevitable end, and with that end comes clarity for our narrator. As he looks at the mostly pleasant night that he and Judy have shared, he realizes he’s gained the closure necessary to move on. Realizing that he doesn’t have to continue repeating his habits and actions, he may not be able to undo what’s been done, but he can grow from it.

This album is absolutely fantastic — it plays like a short film, with nuanced characters and real, tangible explorations into human emotion. Having written, performed, arranged and produced every song on the album, Shauf not only shaped a great story but gave it a living world. The warm, folk-tinged indie sound of this project, gives each scene character and context, creating a perfect marriage between the lyrics and the music. The Neon Skyline is as cinematic as it is poetic, and it excels greatly at being both, making it one of the best releases of this year.

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Music

Punisher: helplessness in the face of the apocalypse

On Phoebe Bridgers’ sophomore album, she predicts her version of the end of the world and the dissociation of self that comes with it

Some of 2020’s best albums have eerily reflected just how dark and miserable the year has been so far. Some, like Taylor Swift’s Folklore, sound desolate by design, as the pop singer crafted her latest full-length project during her time in isolation. Others, like Oddisee’s ODD CURE, are the result of a massive studio session crammed into just a few weeks. Then, there’s Phoebe Bridgers’ devastating sophomore record, Punisher.

Punisher is the type of album you put on either after lighting a joint at the end of a long day or while driving late at night. It’s the type of album that carries a lot of weight throughout the bulk of its 11-track run. The themes Bridgers sings about aren’t uncommon. Depression, dissociation, and anxiety drive the album, but the Los Angeles-born singer also tackles the reality and seriousness of imposter syndrome.

In short, imposter syndrome is a psychological pattern in which the person who has it will constantly feel like they don’t deserve to be in the position they are; they believe they’re going to be exposed as a fraud. In a press release following the announcement of Punisher in April, she explained that the song “Kyoto” was about imposter syndrome and “about being in Japan for the first time, somewhere I’ve always wanted to go, and playing my music to people who want to hear it, feeling like I’m living someone else’s life.”

Bridgers’ desire to dissociate becomes even more apparent on “Halloween,” where she sings “Baby, it’s Halloween / And we can be anything” on the chorus. Though this song is about a couple hiding their issues by dressing up as different people, it only enforces her continued longing to be someone else.

These moments of dissociation culminate in the closing track “I Know the End,” a sombre and creepily foreboding track about Bridgers’ prediction that the end of the world is approaching. In the third verse, she begins to list the things she sees while “driving into the sun” as the apocalypse begins to set in. Much of what’s on her list can be associated with modern conspiracy theories like a UFO sighting, the fear of God, and of course, subtle shade thrown at Donald Trump’s United States of America.

Clearly, like the rest of us, Bridgers isn’t optimistic about the rest of 2020.  With a potentially game-changing election looming at the beginning of November, she knows that the future of her current home is in peril. While being pessimistic about the remainder of the year doesn’t take rocket science to understand, Bridgers’ helplessness is intrinsically linked to her own experience with imposter syndrome.

Bridgers certainly isn’t the first artist to sing about these topics on an album, but the timing of Punisher’s release date paired with the introspective songs and macabre predictions of the near-future makes this album a definitive reflection of what is probably the worst year in a long time.

In the span of eight months, nearly a million people have died from COVID-19, we lost Kobe Bryant, riots are breaking out over blatant and systemic racism, and a revolution seems to be on the horizon in the U.S. — among countless other tragedies that would take far too long to list. It’s certainly easy to feel the same helplessness that Bridgers does.

But what can we do?

We do our best to educate ourselves and others. We make lists of resources that we can use to make life a little easier for everyone. But we can only do so much before we need help to change things. Yes, we can vote, yes we can vocalize the criticisms of our society with little to no negative consequences. But, still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

And yet, Punisher feels like one of the only albums that encapsulate the helplessness of 2020 in a brief 40-minute run. On “I Know the End,” Bridgers doesn’t seem to have any answers to her troubles, though she sings without any sign of anxiety. In fact, she sounds at peace. Maybe she’s onto something. Maybe she’s just completely dissociated. Maybe we’ve all gone mad. All we can do is ride it out and hope for the best.

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam

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