As always, tell them where you saw it and just how goddamn beautiful it was.

REQUIRED LISTENING

SNUS SUMMER SOON COME?

Jim Legxacy, the surging upstart from Lewisham, London, is back, and the rap stylist slash art-school dropout slash production wizkid slash snus sucker slash whippit wiffer slash introspector extraordinaire appears to have cracked the code to the vault that holds the secret recipe to success. Wow! God bless him. Jim’s been on the grind since before COVID struck, but in 2022, he realized that, if he simply put his mind to it and became really good at everything, he would make it as a popstar of sorts and amass an army of ardent supporters.

And — surprise — he’s been doing just that by serving up bittersweet banger after bittersweet banger. See, he figured out that the secret recipe to success lies at the intersection of RnB, hip-hop, Afrobeat, and alternative, all served over piping hot grime-y, garage-y instrumentals with a distinctly UK-flavor. And, to be safe, he dusts his songs with just a touch of elder emo, specifically with regard to his naming conventions and sense of anguish and loss — the kind of thing that anyone can enjoy. (I mean, come on! — titles like as 2021’s “I Don’t Like How Star Wars Treated John Boyega” and “tiger driver ‘91” and “new david bowie” would be right on some emo shit from the late 2000s and early 2010s.) It should go without saying, but this is not a bundle of interests and inspirations that can be easily mashed together, yet Jim pulls it off with ease. It really rocks.

Naturally, given our shared forename, I’ve long been a fan of young Jim, but last year’s Black British Music (a wisftfully turnt up quindecalogue that just won’t quit) broke containment and has attracted a legion of new fans who have since been chomping at the bit for any morsel of new music. On Tuesday, just over eight months after the release of BBM, they finally got some new shit to sink their teeth into.

The new shit in question is “idk idk,” and the people are fucking loving it. I mean, people are calling it the song of the summer, and it’s only March! They’re saying that it’s the only thing worth listening to! They’re saying that it is that good, but let’s be real: just how good is it actually?

“idk idk” has all the makings of a Jim Legxacy banger: a soulfully chopped-up and re-animated sample, humongous and crisp percussion, buzzing sub-bass, triumphant 808 slides, downtrodden lyrics delivered with a wink and a smile, a fun guys-doing-regular-shit music video, and, for all my real Jim guys out there, yet another references to snus consumption (the sign of real ponderer and experiencer of life). With all this packed into just under two and half minutes, it’s no surprise that the heads are going ga-ga for it. In theory, they’re right — it is a potent mix! — but, in practice, the dots are barely even connecting.

It’s not that “idk idk” is tired, but it is just another dose of what we’ve come to expect. Maybe this shit would be different if he were rapping his ass off or baring his soul to the world, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he settles into a weird no-man’s-land between the two modes, and he winds up falling flat. Additionally, the beat is static, especially when compared to his typical output. It wobbles and fizzes along as pleasantly as any other, but it fails to expand upon itself in any sort of meaningful way, hurting the track’s replayability. As with any other medium, simplicity is a goal more easily set than achieved, and “idk idk,” simple as it is, does not meet that goal.

So, no, this is not the frontrunner for song of the summer, but what do I know? People are really loving this shit, and rightfully so. The set-up of “idk idk” is great, but to me, Jim fails to stick the landing. Maybe he’s become too reliant on the recipe, or maybe he’s straight up lost it. I can’t say. To be sure, Jim does land, but his execution is far looser and limb-ier than it should have been. Luckily, given how recently Black British Music hit the airwaves, this song is more than likely just a loosie, and loosies like this are meant to tide the fans over until the world is truly ready for some new shit. As such, I’ll hold my breath and enjoy “idk idk” for what it is: a formulaic Jim Legxacy song that makes people smile when they listen with their friends and bang snus together.

For now.

If you’re feeling that crap, cool! Keep feeling it. If you’re not feeling that crap, check into some Detroit shit from heat-seeking new kids 5atfolks.

As ever, more shit is on the way when I have a spare moment, so keep your eyes peeled. But for now? Tap in for some Chicago shit (lots more where this comes from)! Big things soon, blah, blah, blah.

Ciao for now!

I’m outttt.

Required Listening

If you’re between the ages of 22 and 40 years old and read music criticism on the internet, there’s a strong chance that you think Los Thuthanaka is greatest band in the world right now. Maybe you’ve been hip to the singular greatness of the Siblings Chuquimia Crampton (Joshua and Elly) for the last twenty-ish years, or maybe you just got put on to them in the big two-five because they were awarded album of the year by P*tchfork. Either way, you probably think they’re the best in the business. And you’d be right to think that, as no one — no one — is doing shit the way they are.

Normally, I would try not to fawn over something is so overtly P*tchfork-coded - I’m just not that guy — but this Los Thuthanaka shit is really like that. I’ve enjoyed the siblings’ solo projects for quite some time now, and when they officially / finally joined forces in the form of a full-blown collaboration last March, it was wraps for the competition. It still is wraps, too, so when the duo announced their triple tap weekend residency at the Empty Bottle in Chicago back in December, I knew I needed to be there.

Before getting too deep, I should say this: Los Thuthanaka are members of the Great Pakajaqi Nation of Aymara People, and they blend Aymara sonics like huayños, salay, caporales, kullawada, and parrandita (among others) with noisy, chopped-up-never-slopped-up electronics and electronic ephemera in a never-before-heard type of way. Their music — their medicine for themselves and for the world — is uniquely ceremonial, and a major part of their ceremony is playing loud. Like, rattle your brain loose loud. Shake the dust off the ceiling cornices loud. Wake the neighbors loud. The sheer volume makes the music wash over listeners like a fuzzy, Lisa Frank-esque wave. And, to keep it a stack, that’s exactly the kind of shit that a gentleman like myself can get down with. I want my preconceived notions shaken from my dome so that I can enjoy music the way the artists intend for it to be enjoyed. The cacophony and symphony of it all relies on this volume, and listening to Los Thuthanaka requires you to emotionally and physically feel this shit. From what I now know, the siblings make sure to meet this requirement during their live performances.

Anyway, the Empty Bottle, for those unfamiliar, is a hole-in-the-wall bar turned world-class music venue, at least in my opinion. You can occasionally catch me there on a Friday night for the Hard Country Honky Tonk with the Hoyle Brother when my girl isn’t working. The Bottle itself boasts moderately priced drinks and a serviceable pool table, and they host a yearly millennial winter party called Music Frozen Dancing (more on this later). Their doglegged stage has recently hosted everyone from Agriculture and Béton Armé to Teklife and Ryan Davis, and every act always seems to lay it down just right. To say the least, this place really rocks. Nearly every bill they produce is significant in one way or another, and not a single slot is truly wasted. The Bottle is also loud as hell, so it’s pretty much the perfect place for Los Thuthanaka to attempt to execute a Mozambique drill of beautiful music on unassuming fans whilst also making their Midwest debut.

And execute they did. The first Los Thuthanaka set was on Friday night. Doors opened at 8, and the opening act, a Indigenous DJ named Toyacoyah, delivered the perfect appetizer to the Los Thuthanaka entree at around 9. The Chicago-based Toyacoyah threw the entire book at the audience, spinning Brazilian funk, cumbia, and god-knows-what-else for damn near 90 minutes, and they really had the place in motion. Well, they had me and mine in motion, and that’s what matters. Anyway, by the time 10:30 rolled around, Toyacoyah’s set was rumbling to a close.

After a brief intermission, it was on. Los Thuthanaka were on stage, fitted from head to toe in neo-traditional caporales-style suits and cutter cowboy hats. To be blunt, they were swagged out. On stage, there was a rack with a horizontally mounted keytar and a full keyboard, a sampler of some kind, a CDJ, a guitar, a massive Orange amplifier, and, notably, not a single microphone. They weren’t there for pleasantries, so they had all they needed. And, really, they did exactly what they were supposed to: assert their prowess and gave us their medicine in a beautiful, raucous way that only they could, all without uttering a word.

From the go, they wallowed in their instruments while keeping their feet on their collective gas pedal. The duo took their time with each song and made sure that the audience felt every note, each of which was, of course, extremely and necessarily loud. They kicked off their set with “Q’iwanakax-Q’iwsanakax Utjxiwa” (or “The Queer People-Medicines Are Here”), a luxuriating, shimmering bombast flecked with explosive synth, slowed-down Spanish tag drops, and a gently enormous guitar that eventually turns pluck-y and mathematical. In other words, they played a perfect song to perfection. The sound waves ebbed and flowed from the speakers to the bodies in the audience as if from a revitalizing fountain of love, joy, and appreciation.

It’s safe to say that the entire set was like this. I can’t say exactly which songs they played other than the opener, thanks to the fact that each song could seamlessly flow in and out of one another, but I can say that every song had the same effect. They all came together to provide the audience with a healing and ecstatic party for everyone involved. And, yes, it was also super swagged out. The swaggiest part, perhaps, was when the guitars and ephemera crashed out, and from the rubble emerged “Until I Find You Again,” the woodwind-ed crown jewel off Chuquimamani-Condori’s 2023 masterpiece DJ E. It was the ideal complement to an already ideal night.

When it was over, the crowd wanted more, cheering “Otra! Otra! Otra!,” but there was nothing left to play. Los Thuthanaka had performed exactly what they wanted to, how they wanted to. Those are just the facts. Nothing could’ve added to it, and any sort of encore would take aware from the ceremony that we, the audience, were just blessed to have witnessed. When all was said and done, their set ended at midnight, maybe half past, and even though my ass was tired (in a good way), I wanted more. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to wait long.

The very next day, Los Thuthanaka headlined the aforementioned Music Frozen Dancing, the loudest, coldest (usually), most millennial-style event of the winter, if not the year. The mini-fest had plenty of music and was very frozen this year, and there was indeed a lot of dancing. Unfortunately, the spectacle preceded the actual product. The people enjoyed themselves and it was loud, but, in this case, the event and its legend eclipsed that actual performances. For Los Thuthanaka, once again, fucking ruled, but the rest of the acts — the overripe “innovators: and cheap copycats — did not rule. The non-headliners were overall middling, save for local hardcore speed freaks Snuffed. They just weren’t that exciting, innovative, or even good, but, to be clear, they weren’t bad.

Outside of Los Thuthanaka, the other bands sounded as follows — Body Shop: not bad, but their brand of garage-y industrial electronica has run its course; the aforementioned Snuffed: solid as hell, but the lack of breakdowns breaks my listenership down; Good Flying Birds: fake mods… enough said; and Lip Critic: the mack-daddies of all the spittled pigfuck hopefuls who won’t end up doing shit before they undergo personnel autophagia. The bill was plenty varied, but variance in sounds and styles does not always make things interesting or even good. Los Thuthanaka, though, is a obviously shining star, and they made sifting through all this drivel somehow worth it.

At Music Frozen Dancing, it was a balmy barely above freezing all day long, and in the evening, after Lip Critic tried to captivate the crowd (key word: tried), there was a gentle snow that slowly gained momentum, providing a idyllic backdrop for Los Thuthanaka to lay it uniquely down. Without question, they laid it uniquely down for the second time in less than 24 hours. It was a sight to behold. They played a similar, if not exactly the same set as Friday night, but it was still uncommonly good. As the snow piled up, they played until they simply couldn’t, and the music eventually cut off without a word when the weather really started to turn. Maybe it was actually over and the band decided that they’d somehow managed to crank out a second perfect set in record time, but I feel like this couldn’t be the case. They played such a tight, calculated set on Friday night, only to play similarly and conclude with a stark cut-off? Unlikely. More likely is that they were victim of a weather shutdown, most likely from the torrential-lite snowfall attacking their electronics. It’s none of my business.

And it didn’t even matter. With a swift flurry of movements, Los Thuthanaka gathered their belongings and quickly made their way into the Bottle to host an afterparty DJ set with locals Conjunto Primitivo as an au revoir to the Midwest. I didn’t make it to the second indoor show due to prior engagements, but I don’t even care. I bore witness to a perfect set and a near-perfect set during a snowstorm from the best band in the world, both in less than 24 hours. From what I’ve heard, the DJ set also ruled, and they really managed to pull of a perfect Mozambique drill of beautiful music. What more could I even ask for?

Check them out if they come to your city ! Stream and buy this shit on Bandcamp ! You won’t miss the $11.11 at all ! Please !

This brief respite has been a classic case of a phenomenon that I like to call NCNM Syndrome. That’s right — it’s New City, New Me alllllll over again. I’ve got a new apartment, a new job, new pastimes, new swag — the whole nine yards. In short, I’m up!

As for those articles that were supposed to drop in July and August, keep waiting, and you’ll be rewarded handsomely. Plus, this old lump of coal has a few tricks up his sleeve. So put the pressure on, and I might just drop a diamond.

Say that!

REQUIRED LISTENING

Apple Music

YouTube

TAPES

RAP

I NEVER GAVE AF by Raq baby

I’ve long sung my praises of Raq baby, but with the release of I NEVER GAVE AF, I simply cannot envision a future in which I stop doing so. The Atlanta vibe cultivator has truly outdone himself this time as he tackles the human condition in its entirety, waxing poetic about everything from starting a family and wondering if this life that he leads is worth living to claiming that he was born to get some strange over instrumentals that are sopping wet with indie samples. I just wish that he put this song on it. Then, I NEVER GAVE AF would be simply perfect, but it’s damn close without it.

Let’s Meet at Junes by Dolo2000

For my money, Dolo2000 is the most consistent rapper-producer currently doing business. The SoCal-based artist behind 2024’s already-outstanding MarketResearch and the same year’s wistful Imagining Project has quite literally outdone himself this time around. The new Dolo is practically running laps around the old (no shade). On Let’s Meet at Junes, Dolo brings his largely self-produced world directly to the listener, welcoming them in to his tastefully eclectic space with open arms. With perfectly chilled solo cuts and wide-ranging, show-stopping features from Squadda B (of Main Attrakionz fame), kuru, 1600J, and numerous others, the album rewards repeat listeners with innumerable mumbly earworms and sardonic one-liners. Don’t sleep on this post-hype masterwork.

For the road by 100 Methods

100 Methods is not for beginners. Hell, it’s not even for seasoned listeners. His flamboyant flow and near-absurdist lyrics, though, are just too tough to overlook! He comes at the shit from the same side of the aisle as guys like Suga Free and Bruiser Wolf but without the pimped-out persona. To put it lightly, the brand of Florida rap that 100 Methods and his guys — namely Bani and Mike Lary — churn out is ornery music, and it takes a special palette to stomach. Hopefully you all have that palette.

Winn Lose or Draw by 4TheWinn

4TheWinn, Northern California’s finest, is the closest thing to a Drakeo the Ruler spiritual successor who isn’t named Ralfy the Plug. With a well-seasoned and worldly vernacular (this fool speaks Mandarin on this shit!) and a finely-tuned pen to match, Winn occupies a singular lane with a absurdist, maximalist flavor that anyone can enjoy.

HARDCORE

DEATH IS NOT OUR ONLY OPTION EP by Clique

For fans of Natural Human Instinct, being politically active, and racking.

Processing Upheaval by Discontent

For fans of Final Resting Place, being dumb as rocks, and going deaf at an early age.

Trauma Stage by TS Warspite

For fans of Big Cheese, being a little overweight, and running back and forth very quickly in an effort to hurt your friends.

Demo 2025 by Chain Pulling Man

For fans of Field of Flames, sticking metal utensils into wall outlets, and breaking glass with your bare hands.

Всё впереди by Adidass Machien

I think that this is a reissue of some lost 2013 release…lit nonetheless!

For fans of Terror, being pushed down the stairs, and laughing at herbs and burgers.

THE REST

XO Salt Llif3 by Ben Bondy

For fans of Proc Fiskal, blue-collar cosplay, and looking at yourself in the mirror of a dark bathroom after a night out.

ATELYE TYPE R by Atelye Marc

For fans of 454, hanging out with the woman you love, and driving around with nowhere to go.

Rooster Slipped by Rooster

For fans of Sad Boys Entertainment and Drain Gang, pensively turning up, and having a quiet moment with yourself.

Shadow House by Halloween

For fans of the intersection between Hotline TNT and The Spirit of the Beehive (but maybe that’s just TAGABOW…), sleezing, and pushing friends to try something new.

Volume 1 EP by So Klarity

This, dear reader, might be the closest thing that the modern era has to a little known but oft enjoyed subgenre of rock that my friends and I call “heroin music.” Not that we’d know anything about that. Volume 1 was released back in 2022, but this shit is new to me! AND it’s mixed like some dub shit, so smash, next question!

For fans of shit like “White Rabbit,” moving slowly, and snapping back to your wits after a deep daze.

Dream Curtain Eternally Gentle by Stone

For fans of ambient-flavored micro-jerk with female vocal chops, staring at a screen longingly, and building up the courage to go out after 10:00 PM.

TRACKS

“Eighteen” by dexter in the newsagent

“Automatic” by Anysia Kym & Tony Seltzer

“L.O.A.T.” by Veeze

“Dragon Slayer” by 45GBaby

“I Cry!” by SiyahXO!

“SWAG” by Beezyb

“Ian gotta Lie” by Tomibillsbigger

“looking for a reason” by Snoa

“swear i would” by wildkarduno

REQUIRED LISTENING

Twenty-one choice cuts to propel your sorry asses through the rest of summer!

Apple Music

YouTube

At the time of writing this (not today…), it is a balmy 92 degrees Fahrenheit with humidity hovering around 70% saturation, and it’s still not even noon. It was the same story two days ago, and it’ll continue to be the same story until what might as well be the end of time itself. Not to complain, but that’s twisted!

For a lot of people, this is pretty hot. For guys like me — long, not-so-tanned, handsome enough — this is pretty fucking hot! The moment that I step outside, I have about five minutes before I sweat through my shirt, ten before there’s a spoor of sweat pooled beneath my feet, and twenty before my pants have become ombre, the waist darkened with perspiration, slowly transitioning to dryness at the bright, crisp hems. Shit, it was so hot one day that I sweat through my nylon belt! (Shouts to Mr. R3 of himself, though, for making a belt that can stand up to the elements.)

What’s a guy supposed to do to keep cool when it’s like this outside? After my recent stint out of doors, I remembered a tweet that I’d seen a few years ago that put me onto the idea of the “Beijing bikini.”

Even if you don’t understand it, it’s still incredible and ingenious in many ways — especially when it comes to looking cool while keeping cool — but let me break it down. For decades and decades, when the summer heat hits China’s urban areas, turning the cityscapes into heat sinks, men bundle, bunch, fold, and scrunch their shirts (undershirts included) and air their shit out. If I’m reading the usage efficiency charts correctly, having a gut, beer belly or otherwise, is optimal to pull off this look, especially over an extended period, but it certainly is not necessary.

The Beijing bikini works because, according to traditional Chinese medicine, a body’s qi — its vital force — must be able to flow without being impeded. When it is unbearably hot, tension and strong emotions can build within the body, meaning that qi is not flowing freely, throwing a body out of balance. Doing things like sitting in cool, air-conditioned rooms and swimming in a nearby body of water can quickly balance a body and restore the flow of qi, but these conveniences are few and far between in megalopolises. As such, the Beijing bikini allows for the vital organs of the body, finally free from their fabric prison, to remain cool, thus keeping qi flowing and the body in balance.

Regardless of the efficiency and balancing of qi, the Beijing bikini just looks cool. Imagine walking down the street when it’s over 100 degrees and violently humid, looking for respite any way you can get it, only to realize that every man around you has raised their shirt in some way to reveal their midsection, languishing in the peace that it gives them. That sounds incredible, and after experimenting with it for the first time the other day, that shit really is incredible.

For some reason, though, Chinese authorities have decided that the Beijing bikini deviates from what they believe to be civilized and is far from the “respectable and modest” style of dress that they expect. For years now, they have been trying to quell the practice, though their attempts to stymie this warm-weather sartorial decision have yet to be successful. Thank god for that. The Beijing bikini is no worse than strutting around with a sweaty shirt shrink-wrapped to your body. In fact, it’s probably better — the shirt is neatly tucked away and the body is cooler thus producing less sweat to be, well, sweat.

Thanks to pieces from The New York Times, The Washington Post, CNN, The Guardian, and now yours truly, the Beijing bikini has proven to be a massive hit! That said, I am looking to the future, lawful and modest as it appears to be, so I’ve cobbled together a few forward-thinking alternatives that might just change the game when it comes to both stunting and beating the summertime heat.

Let it be known that I tried and tried and tried to find an image for each alternative, but candid photos of men with their shirts worn in unorthodox ways is very hard to find (for me at least)! In most cases, it was easiest to roll with stock images. Forgive me.

The Summer Scarf

The summer scarf isn’t anything new, but I don’t see heads rocking it nearly enough. It works like this: when a man is doing some sort of work outdoors and is starting perspire, he removes his limbs and torso from the shirt, leaving the shirt worn solely around the neck. This way, the sweat from his frontside, underarms, and backside will not saturate the shirt with sweat while also remaining accessible should he need to put the shirt on with haste.

Ideal utilization: mowing the lawn; building crap; landscaping; chilling with the guys; walking down the street on a sweltering day to grab a beverage; hanging outside of the store and enjoying a beverage with the guys after walking there from up the street.

The Brooklyn Bikini

Thank you to my dear friend Ellie, environmental reporter extraordinaire and Interlochen Public Radio wizkid, for this one — nuff inspiration, nuff respect! As such, I'm letting her take the lead on this one. Peep game:

Ellie: My dad’s been repping the Brooklyn bikini for as long as I can remember.

NOTS: [Is it the] same premise [as the Beijing bikini]?

Ellie: It’s a little less heinous. [The Brooklyn Bikini is] more so just putting your hand on your belly and holding your shirt up to expose it while standing there.

You heard it here first! Real BKers (transplants, seek other options) have been on this tip since they were young, busting it out during their long, steamy summers spent slinging knishes and ice-pops on Coney Island Beach. And that’s a beautiful image, at least in my mind’s eye.

Ideal utilization: walking the shoreline; avoiding hazardous debris while walking the shoreline; selling sundries to sun-tanners; chilling with the guys; cracking open a fire hydrant; hanging next to a cracked fire hydrant and enjoying a beverage with the guys

The Rodeo Romper

Given that the NOTS faithful is largely comprised of young-ish city boys, I’m going to describe this very carefully. The rodeo romper is restricted to rural areas where the only pastime outside of work and home-building is strapping on their finest pearl snap shirt and attending the nearest small-time rodeo. It is most often executed on the “rowdy” side of the arena (the zone in which the drunks and reprobates are sent to burn in the sun while the “civies” enjoy a hood of protective shade in the form of a bleacher awning). When the going gets tough, the rowdies reach to their pearl snaps, starched straight and tucked tight, and pull one, two, or maybe three snaps apart in order to both ventilate the body and redden the small bit of skin that is graced by the sun but a few times each year. Given that the shirt is tucked all the way in, the practitioners of the rodeo romper appear to be wearing just that: a romper at the rodeo. A man needs to stay cool just as much as he needs to look the part, even when he’s several Coors Light tall cans deep!

Ideal utilization: going to the rodeo; getting absurd tan lines; cowboy cosplaying; chilling with the guys; watching the barrel races and wondering when it’ll be over; meeting the guys at the rodeo and drinking a group total of forty 24 ounce Coors Lights tallboys while getting absurd tan lines.

The Towel

Gentlemen and ladies — this is the pinnacle in keeping cool in the summertime, especially if you’re a middle-aged man or are rapidly approaching middle-aged manhood. No “clever” names necessary this time. We’ve all seen it, and we’ve all questioned its efficacy. But we’ve never been brave enough to try it. If you’ve been looking for invitation to try something new, consider this to be it. The Towel — preferably crispy and white, hand-sized — is not only used to wipe the sweat from brow, neck, or otherwise, but it can also be used to shield brow, neck, or otherwise from the sun. Plus, it’s one of the illest looks to be pulled in the history of pulling off looks. Young-ish people, let’s take what’s rightfully ours and unabashedly rock The Towel this summer. We will not regret it. Just don’t get caught rocking it while you’re chopping it up with a co-ed.

Ideal utilization: doing your thing regardless; getting absurd tan lines; hitting a baseball game; standing outside on the sidewalk or next to garage, depending on where you live; chilling with the guys; running errands with a cold, SFW drink in your hand; standing outside on the sidewalk or next to garage with the guys while tapping into some NSFW drink and/or smoke.

I’m out.

Back again!

What a week! Highlights include:

• Spending over seven hours driving from SE Michigan to Milwaukee via I-90 through Chicago whilst sweating profusely in the heat (more on that later)

• Bossman Dlow turning up the city of Milwaukee with an impressively small number of words uttered and twosome of on-stage dancers (more on that later!)

• YTB Fatt operating similarly to Dlow, but with more rapping and less on-stage ass-shaking (more on that later, too!)

• Chuckyy putting on a disaster class that featured him flexing a set of AirPod Max headphones, plus a shocking mass exodus (MORE on THAT later)

• The start of a two-week men’s cycling retreat in Marquette, Michigan featuring two guys working their asses off whilst I do me (more nothing on that later)

Whereas my week was fast, the music week was a bit slow, at least on my end, so I’d like to take this opportunity (for the second week in a row!) to speak on some recent heat not from this week.

Talk soon!

REQUIRED LISTENING

Apple Music

Youtube

TAPES

Real Shit EP by Texako

If this is the shape of plugg to come, then plugg is in the best shape of its life. Texako, the Charlotte, North Carolina via Newark, New Jersey rap impressionist, is far from new to the game, and his most recent EP, Real Shit, is indicative of that. Plugg, unlike its relative dark plugg, chronicles a lackadaisical lifestyle that everybody decries yet secretly desires, and on this tape, Texako has elevated the form from low-ish entertainment to high art. Paired with brightly moody instrumentals from the artist himself and a cartoonish, foul cover, Real Shit shakes out to be a seriously potent mix.

*Note: I normally find slowed + reverb mixes of songs to be bullshit to the highest degree, but this one of “Southern Cali” has me tickled.

Made in Paris by Pi’erre Bourne

All you need to know about Made in Paris is that P finally dropped “Temps de Chasse” — one of the most anticipated snippets of all time — and it nearly lived up to the hype, which is more than most snippet guys can claim. Plus, the rest of the tape is quite pleasant as well. Standouts include the closing two minutes of “Façade,” the aforementioned “Temps de Chasse,” and the MASSIVE transition between “L’amore” and “Sait,” among many others.

the lady in the sky by dream fatigue

This crud is not new, but it is new to me! Inspired by Fleshwater, Massachusett’s dream fatigue puts out a spin on nü-grunge, blending it with whatever they feel like throwing into the fold. Back in December of 2024, the band released the lady in the sky, on which they mix the grunge with the lite drum ‘n’ bass and the shoegaze with the trip-hop, uniquely freaking the now-overwrought micro-genre. That said, they went a touch overboard with the lowpass filter. Other than that? It’s lit!

Love Songs EP by Big Boy

Similarly, this is not new in the slightest (it came out in April). I simply forgot to write about it last week, and I need to speak my piece! This EP, while not their best, presents a hardcore band that is moments away from breaking out of the scene and entering the alternative rock universe. That’s an exciting prospect if they manage to maintain their edge in the process of appealing to the masses, and it’s looking like they’re about to pull it off. In short, Love Songs is butt hardcore in the best way. The vocals are yelped passionately, and the instruments are played with a simple sort of heft. A body doesn’t need much more than that. Plus, “Other Side of the River” is an undeniable cover of a heavy hitter from Life of Agony, the pre-eminent butt hardcore band!

TRACKS

“I’LL ALWAYS” by Burnside

This revival of “elevated” 2000s coworker metal made by hardcore kids has nearly run its course, but I’m glad that Burnside was able to sneak an album in before the reckoning arrives. This shit really rocks, especially their utilization of the infamous baseball snare. I’m a sucker for that crap. Plus, their use gameplay footage from the Playstation’s ATV Offroad Fury as a visual representation of their sound nails the vibe that they’re shooting for.

“Where To Look” by Nilüfer Yanya

Yanya’s brand of trip-hoppy alternative will never go out of style. “Where To Look” makes that much clear.

“Quay & Donnie” by Nofacerd

You gotta love to hear a guy from Flint make some shit that doesn’t bite Rio and company’s swag. I know I do!

“SAMSON” by Glokk40Spaz

After a lackluster 2024, Glokk40Spaz has used 2025 to once again change the dark plugg game, demonstrating his style on “SAMSON” with impunity.

“Suge“ by GettemGone

GettemGone’s new EP, RainyDays, is perhaps mistakenly categorized as inspirational music, but who am I to question this?? I feel like I can do anything when I listen to this shit.

Well, well, well — look who has finally come crawling back…

That’s right, it’s me — back again! And I’ve been instructed that this must be the last time that I ever write one of these comeback-style introductions. That’s the kind of shit that a gentleman like myself can get down with. After a loooong four-and-a-half months of toiling in my work and in my studies, summertime is finally upon me, and I’ve got all the time in the world to put the people on and talk my shit. While I’ve not been putting in work publicly, I have been making moves in silence to develop my craft. (I’ve also been listening to everything that my ears will receive, but you knew this.) I’m already feeling like I’m on a roll, but if I may, I’d like to evoke the young great, Cade Cunningham, for one moment and issue a warning: Don’t touch me — I’m sizzlin’.

Bear witness and enjoy. The Boy is back in town. For now, enjoy the highs of my spring season, but look forward to a weekly version of this crap.

REQUIRED LISTENING

APPLE MUSIC

YOUTUBE

I’ve been in my hardcore bag as of late, but I won’t let that affect this round-up…

TAPES

SKYFALL by Yung Pams

2000s revivalism is for real, and it’s officially hit the rap scene. Chicago’s Lil2Posh and Thirteendegrees (and, to a lesser degree, Zukenee) are steeped in trap and early Chicago drill, and they all do a fine, occasionally outstanding job zombifying it. Not one of them, however, is doing it like Yung Pams. The Chicago product has breathed life into the bombast of early Chief Keef and the cold-bloodedness of Jeezy the Snowman without ever biting, and he’s done it all off the strength of a mixtape with a cover inspired by Rihanna’s Unapologetic. Autotuned tags, inventive inflections, and propellant beats are on the menu, and they’re delivered by a steward that honors the past while keeping one eye to the present and the other to the future.

Introducing… EP by Sold Short

About that introduction…I lied! I love this hardcore crap! I’ve got to include at least one tape. Supposedly this is the youngest band doing it out of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Their schtick is believable enough, though, because this shit is raw. Straightforward fast hardcore will never go out of style, and style is something that these fools have in spades.

Gut Feeling by Bickle

This shit is extremely “cooperative living”-coded, but I can get down with that! How couldn’t I? This scuzzed-up RnB is earnest, forlorn, and funner than hell, all at once!

RRR & 2oo4 Presents…Only Ones Taxin’ by YL & subjxct 5

The history books are going to be riddled with the accolades and lore of subjxct 5, the super-producer and hardest worker in New Jersey, maybe even the whole world. He’s been locked in with Papo2oo4 for the longest time, and the output has been nothing short of phenomenal, conquering what seems to be every corner and every take on regional rap. But his other output with other artists? Just as good! And this tape with YL is yet another plaque in the subjxct 5 Hall of Excellence. Made for fans of 2000s hip-hop and insane deep cut references and flips. Don’t sleep on this.

The Message by Rnv 7even

Quotables, Detroit piano beats turned loud and discordant, mini-posse cuts? Replayability and cohesion pumped to the max? All of that made and assembled by some kid who looks like he’s barely old enough to drive? What could be better?

SMILE TO KEEP FROM CRYING by Fastmoneyfendi

When I first made a Twitter account for No Oldtimers about a year ago, this guy followed me, and after some very light digging, I stumbled upon his song “Never Seen a Drought.” That shit — a quick dose of lighthearted, LA-ified fast rap reminiscent of Scoob & Sydney — was undeniable! I needed more, but I never saw any other music from him. Out of the blue, at the end of May, he dropped an entire tape laden with two minute jolts of chiptuned raps and danceable instrumentals of every flavor. If I’m not mistaken, I believe that P*tchfork awarded BNM for one of the songs from the back half of the tape…totally justified!

TRACKS

“9 2 5” by Nourished by Time

Nourished by Time, Baltimore’s weirdo bedroom popstar-in-the-making, is on a legendary run. He has released two perfect EPs and one perfect album, and he’s gearing up to release a second perfect album in August. Naturally, he had no choice but to whet the appetites of the fans and drop a heater like “9 2 5,” a piano-forward, club-ish track about the pains of having to pay the bills while moonlighting as a artist but still making the most of it.

“Cruising in My Lane” by ffawty

The best album of the year is actually an amalgamation of ffawty’s slow trickle of singles, and “Cruising in My Lane” is the crown jewel.

“Call My Bluff” by Montana 700 & Zillionaire Doe

After running through the excellent tape from ABGR Cory a few months ago, I stumbled on “Stamp Dat” by Montana 700 and Zillionaire Doe from 2024, and I was instantly hooked to their fresh-eyed take on southern rap. That was back at the beginning of April. Now it’s damn near July, and they’ve done it again with February’s “Call My Bluff.” (The timeline is really twisted, I know.) I don’t know how I missed it — call me a bad fan or whatever — but I know for certain that I won’t miss whatever’s next.

“Goodbyerz” by Raq baby

It should go without saying, but Raq baby has the freshest take on mainstream rap of anyone currently having motion. He brings his A-game on every track, and he’s prolific as hell, flexing his range with every release. “Goodbyerz,” a cloudy and uptempo tumult of surprisingly reflective posturing, is no different and deserves to go global.

“Gas Hands” by Worlds Worst

I’ve done dastardly deeds in a Worlds Worst pit to songs far less captivating than “Gas Hands,” and I’ll do these deeds again and again if the music continues to trend in this direction!

“hope music” by babirred

On first listen, this shit sounds a little too similar to Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights,” but that is never a bad thing. This lesson in perseverance and will could turn anyone up with the quickness. Listen to the similarly titled hope music tape for more of this crap.

“That’s a Promise (The Song About a Dog)” by Skinhead

Boy, oh boy! Straightforward, heart-on-sleeve punk like this would’ve hit just right when I was like twelve years old, but it’s hitting nearly as right at twenty-seven years old! To clarify, this is some hardcore skinhead shit, not skinhead skinhead shit. Know the difference.

“SAVANNAH 2 JAX” by Nosaint

I have a lot of thoughts about this song, but I don’t think I could articulate any of them better than my friend Manny did: “The beat is wavy, but he can’t rap haha.” No lie told — the beat really is like that!

“South Side” by Percaso & reddglk

You ever pause a video game to play a game on your phone, forcing yourself to listen to both at the same time? This song is a lot like that but significantly better. As an aside, I’m rather charmed by the transcription of the lyrics on Apple Music. “I kno life suck I kno life suck” rings, at times, too true!

I am blessed with an amazing, beautiful, and, most importantly, cool girlfriend! But I shouldn’t brag. Many men are not so blessed. Many have girlfriends, boyfriends, significant others, husbands, wives, partners, and other what-have-yous who indeed love them but don’t always like them.

It’s a tale as old as time. You’ve been with your girl for somewhere between six months and two years. The so-called honeymoon phase of puppy love either just ended or is about to end. Your girl is spending more and more time with you. She might even live with you. Shit seems cool, right?

Wrong.

As you’ve been enjoying her company, she’s been stockpiling reasons to be repulsed by you.

• You’re getting fat.

• You’re a graphic designer who works from your bedroom yet continues to drop big chicken on deadstock workwear.

• We never do anything.

• You waste too much time arguing with “lames” on Twitter.

• I hate your 2003 Lexus GX 460 with a three-inch lift kit and plasti-dipped rims.

• You have too much joie de vivre.

• Your music's too loud and too trash.

• You’re bad at cooking Asian-inspired dishes.

• You don’t want to get a dog.

• You’re obsessed with running into the gas station for a snack.

• Your friends are stinky, gross, and dumb, and I know you’d rather hang out with them than me.

• I hate Brain Dead and their boxy t-shirts that you insist on buying even though they fit like shit.

Really, this is your girl projecting her own insecurities onto you, but that’s neither here nor there.

If you want to change her attitude without changing your ways, now’s the time. Valentine’s Day (Friday, the 14th of February, for the unaware) is right around the corner. You have the power to flip the script, but you’ll need to freak it. Follow my lead, and you’ll be back in her good graces in no time.

First, get a reservation at a semi-nice restaurant. You don’t want to go to some place that has a real dress-code, but you do want to find one that requires you and your girl to elevate your typical wear. A mid-tier Asian restaurant will do the trick (Thai, Japanese, Vietnamese, Laotian, Nepalese, Korean, doesn’t matter). You can still wear your favorite cooked-ass, wide-body foam-front trucker hat with the rope and your Pass-Port relaxed fit denim, but you will want to flick on some jewelry — a modest chain, maybe a ring or two — and an open-collar button down shirt that has been carefully mismatched to your finest novelty t-shirt.

Second, find a piece of paper (any size, shape, or color will do) and an envelope and get to writing a true-to-yourself, heartfelt letter of love. This step is crucial. Any Joe can get a reservation — it takes a man to scratch his feelings onto the pristine white of the A5 that you just pulled from the printer. Maybe draw a cute little doodle of you and your girl chilling on the couch. I don’t know, just make sure you pull out all the stops. If you don’t have any paper or an envelope, grow up a little and go get some! While you’re at it, go ahead and buy some flowers, too. I like Baby’s Breath in bulk, but know thyself. Wait, no, not this. Know thy girl.

Third and finally, hit the online marketplace. You can buy literally anything, so why don’t you take a moment and think about something that your girl will really enjoy. Need help? I’ve got you. Peep game and pick two.

Option One: Ariana Grande’s new fragrance trio: Vanilla Suede, Angels Kiss, and Pink Woods

Listen, regardless of the opinions that you hold, women fuck with Ariana Grande. They might not actually like her, but for some reason, they respect her. They can’t help but know her every move, from cheating on her man with the dude who plays SpongeBob SquarePants on Broadway (who was cheating on his girl!) to playing second fiddle to Cynthia Erivo on the Wicked press tour. In your girl’s eyes and in spite of Ari’s transgressions, she can do no wrong, so it only makes sense that you can do no wrong buying your girl Ari’s new scents!

Option Two: One ticket to your local small-to-medium market NBA game

Listen, if your girl hates you, there’s no better gift than the gift of peace and tranquility! Get out of her hair and take your ass to a small-market NBA game, preferably a bottom- or mid-table dweller like the Pistons, Hornets, Pelicans, or Jazz. You’ll enjoy some okay-to-terrible hoops, and your girl will enjoy concocting a “harmless” emotional affair with her favorite busted-ass character from the 300+ page book that she’s been meaning to finish.

Option Three: One six pack of Bean Flicker Coffee Blonde Ale by Odd Side Brewing

Listen, what’s understood doesn’t need to be explained. Trust me.

Option Four: Old Order Turbo Lite x Hello Kitty (either in Scarlet Red or Copper Brown)

Listen, there are two universal truths: 1) girls love footwear. 2) Girls love the Sanrio extended universe. Get some EASY brownie points by combining these infatuations by copping your girl the Old Order Turbo Lite x Hello Kitty collaboration, either in Sonic the Hedgehog’s Shoe Red or Steampunk Brown! Think of these suckers as elevated Onitsuka Tigers.

Option Five: Two tickets to the Oasis reunion tour (any stop)

Listen, girls love doing shit that they have no interest in with their men! It’s like letting them see the world through your eyes. Like, she’d rather tap into some Eusexua-era Twigs (burnt) or Panda Bear x Nourished by Time (turnt), but she claims to “love seeing you in your bag doing the shit that you like to do.” Plus, if she already hates you, you might as well buy her some sort of experience that YOU want to do! What better experience than bearing witness to the recently-reunited Oasis live in concert! She won’t like it, but all of your boys will think you’re the man!

You can thank me later. Ciao!

Please click that link.

REAL blogging hours.

I’m currently at work, teaching my ass off, but I’ve got something to say! I’m going to waste my preparatory hour (though it’s only 41 minutes in practice) and fire something off into the void. Don’t try this at home. Like I’ve always said, when inspiration strikes, I will strike back, and this is me doing just that.

A little over two weeks ago, the Ohio-raised SlayWorld lieutenant Izaya Tiji dropped thirty seven tracks that washed over SoundCloud like a comforting wave of gray. Tiji later posted on Instagram, claiming that these new songs are actually an entire album called o.

There were no signs nor indicators that he was going to do some crazy shit like this, but it makes sense for a unbridled rap stylist like Tiji. I mean, he just released the SoundCloud loosie “Paranoia” in October and the Middle Fingers EP in November, all while slowly trickling more random tracks. Why’d he decide to post this in the middle of January?? Frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Weaker men than I might ask, “how the fuck could any human digest all of this?? It’s too much music!” And they’re not wrong. I mean, 37 tracks with a runtime totaling over 96 minutes is a touch lengthy, but it’s not all new shit. Some of these songs have been out since 2023 in one form or another. None of this matters because when IT teams up with producers like wifi, Lj, and StepTeam standout ivvys and has flows and quotables by the dozens, you know that, new or old, a real music lover like myself lives for this shit.

As such, I will be taking a moment to categorize each song. There is no hierarchy once a track is in its category. They’re just in alphabetical order. Some songs will have a brief little write-up. Some will not.

One.

Select

There are no bad tracks on o, but some are more “regular” or less “interesting” than others and therefore occupy the lowest tier. In the sequence of the album, they sound great, but they couldn’t carry a shorter album where the stakes are higher.

• “UMYDRUG”

  • Simply put, this track is plain. A lot of people like plain! I don’t.

• “litter”

  • If your name isn’t Sosa, I have no time for triumphant ass, horn-laden beats.

• “maryjane”

• “no pressure”

  • Not quite my tempo. That said, Unotheactivist would eat.

• “suncomeup”

• “fucckk”

• “mhm”

  • All is well until that fucking bass hits every seven seconds (I counted). When listened to properly (at an unholy volume), it will scare you.

• “send it up”

• “G”

  • WUNNA by Gunna-type beat.

• “thatyeah”

• “looking around”

  • My only beef is that this shit is too long! The album is already 96 minutes long! It doesn’t need a four minute deep cut.

• “clone me”

• “wtf u sayin”

  • I’ll admit it — I’m starting to get real sick of these beats by ok. Everyone who hops on one sounds good, but at the end of the day, they all a bit one-note à la mid-era Pi’erre Bourne.

Choice

This is where the highlight reel begins. Every one of these songs hits perfectly, and each would probably be lead single material if any other artist dropped them. These middle tier cuts are what make o into the spectacle that it is.

• “oouh”

• “that cho”

  • Modern day hustler anthem? Might just be.

• “yop”

• “diggingmyowngrave”

• “i had to”

  • The flow? Mad.

• “(N)umber 1”

• “laundry”

  • Tiji isn’t at his most high-flying vocally, but he rides this beat so well. I like to imagine him in the booth emitting electricity from his fingers while speaking in tongues to the masses.

• “remote”

• “asleep” featuring Steel 11

• “cant save u”

• “swear”

• “cheesitzblok”

  • Doing the 454 shtick nearly as well as the man himself.

• “Divs”

  • This shit is SO close to entering the next tier, but Tiji is too subdued to stand out over this hushed, piano beat from the young legend Nine9.

• “freestyle220”

• “squable”

  • Spelling be damned! This man can rap!

Prime

This shit? This are the tape’s enders. The biggest, the weirdest, the strongest, the most infectious, and the most indelible. No one outside of Tiji could make tracks like these; these are the the crown jewels of o.

• “wifi freestyle”

  • Impeccable introduction to o. Perfectly sets the scene without showing his hand.

• “Free”

  • IT is spitting like his life depends on it over a throwback beat? And it sounds good? You son of a bitch — game on.

• “i touched a spaceship”

  • No one else could make this bar sound this cool: “My biddie be horny, trombone / I almost broke her hip bone / My whip is foreign, it go / Shе call me Izzo, licked her hеad to toe.” I didn’t realize that Michigan State Basketball overlord Tom Izzo was freaky like that!

• “tryhards”

  • Cloud trap at its very best.

• “crazy”

  • Blown-out, decayed, proud, yet turned down? And self-produced? Real nice!

• “How could I”

  • This brings a tear to my fuckin eyes, man. Enough so that I can excuse lines like “Had a bitch eating my meat / eating shit up like ham-sam’.”

• “swae” & “million”

  • A real one-two punch of IT getting in that emotional bag. Alone, the tracks great. Together? They’re damn near a rap ballad in the same way that Future’s “Throwaway” and “Move to LA” by Babyface Ray are. Despite his lyrical limitations, he’s always been deeply thoughtful, and his delivery helps his contemplative side shine on these two late album cuts.

• “splinner”

  • This is the shit that ian will strive to make for the rest of his life. No one does it like IT.

    ---

Good album. Go listen.

After a nearly six-month absence that felt like six years, RealYungPhil has made his triumphant return to the wonderful world of underground rap. Back in June, for the first time in nearly five years, the output of the Connecticut-born, style-focused rapper grinded to a halt. Phil went from pelting us with chill drill loosies and collab tapes to doing seemingly nothing, failing to even maintain his Instagram account. Save for one Instagram post-shaped clue back in August, he disappeared without a trace.

The clue — a photograph of a typically fitted Phil on a cliff high above a scenic fjord — alerted the world that he was in Scandinavia (Åndalsnes, Norway, to be exact), which could mean only one thing: he was tapped back in with Gud, the Swedish superproducer/progenitor of the Sad Boy and Drain Gang style that has permeated every corner of the rap universe in some way or another.

Producers and rappers collaborate all the time. So what?

Back in 2023, Gud and RealYungPhil released Victory Music, one of the best albums of that year. The two operated as if they were one. Despite obvious sonic differences and inconsistencies, Phil’s cadence and husky braggadocio existed in oxymoronic harmony with Gud’s icy keys and warm melodies. If you haven’t heard it, you’re doing yourself a disservice. The shit was good, and a follow-up album has been rumored from the jump. Now that the two artists have reunited, though, they would need to tap back in a major way if they wanted to even come close to reaching the extreme heights of Victory Music.

Well, the RealYungPhil and Gud have done just that by surprise releasing the succinct double tap of “Back” backed with “Communication” on January 1st. Like its predecessor, the shit is good! Phil, with Gud serving as both his driving force and right hand man once again, was hard at work during his sabbatical from the public eye, and it seems that he has perfected his brand of aphoristic, boastful NY drill. Check it.

Why do we care?

1. RealYungPhil is the only dude still having fun with this drill shit, and this double single proves it with power and finesse.

2. ”Communication” has been floating around since September of last year, but goddamn it feels good to hear it as an official release.

3. Phil’s raps are so simple, but they’re somehow so tough. The confidence on the two singles is through the roof, and it’s justified because Phil knows that he’s going to keep getting money while his critics and biters stay broke.

   1. “You can imitate it but you can't duplicate it / I’m with Gud and I know y’all was waiting / They probably thought that I baited / U ain't that n****, don't quit your day shift / Still need a bag I'm like, ‘where is my payment?’” (“Communication”)

4. Yes, Phil always has the best beats from the best producers—Woesum, randomblackdude (aka Earl Sweatshirt), evilgiane, and Dylvinci to name a few—but these instrumentals from beat god Gud must’ve been tailor-made for Phil. It’s clear as day that he pores over every beat that comes his way, choosing exactly what suits him best.

   1. On “Back,” this fool Phil freaks a Basement Jaxx-esque synth oscillation, talking the bored, self-assured talk that only he can.

   2. On “Communication,” Gud dials his signature cutesy cool to the max, and Phil waxes melodic, clearly happy to be back in the Great White North as he practically prances across the beat.

5. Despite his ever-subdued delivery, Phil sounds full of life on this new double tap. Like Victory Music, he’s rapping like he was born to do, stunting hard and putting down the brokes with ease.

6. Rumor has it that RealYungPhil has a fitted for every day of the week, and the album art is keeping this rumor alive. I hope it stays alive forever. Even if the rumor is false, I guarantee that he has never even owned a black nasty, which is a beautiful thing.

Shoutout RealYungPhil and Gud and whatever shit they cooked up in Norway! If “Back” and “Communication” are all that Phil has to show for his time away, it’s still nothing but respect. The people have been waiting with bated breath, and it appears that the wait is finally over.

Required Listening

APPLE MUSIC

These days, GAME is a hot commodity. If you don’t know what I mean, you probably need it the most. For the unfamiliar, game is any piece of information that is somehow valuable, regardless of topic. Everybody wants to be put on game, but no one wants to put themselves out there and ask for it. Besides, game should never just be handed to someone. 

Too many fools expect it to be presented to them on a golden platter, but that will never be the case. Game is never free (except on No Oldtimers — for now…). To wax link-and-build-pilled, game takes dedication, time, and sweat. If someone isn’t constantly proving their value, through their solid presence or their unwavering dedication to worldliness, they’ll never be the recipient of free game.

That said, some people are so experienced and worldly that spraying game doesn’t mean shit to them. They do it without even thinking, for the benefit of the world. They put the people on whenever they show face. Whenever this happens, everyone wins. The game progenitor solidifies their reputation, and everyone else becomes a little bit more with it.

Enter E-40 — birth name Earl Stevens, chosen name E-Pheezy, E-Bonics, 40 Fonzarelli, Mr. Flamboyant, The Ballatician, Lieutenant Roast-A-Botch, The Sole Narrator, or The Curb Commentator. See, E-40 is a generous genius. He might be the smartest man alive, and he finds profound joy in spreading game like a suburban mother spreads gossip at the school pick-up line. Matter of fact, they say that listening to E-40’s music is like being homeschooled. Well, he said that himself on “Facts Not Fiction,” but it’s true! 

Despite lacking his wisdom teeth (per 2014’s “Programmin”), he has somehow managed to maintain his wisdom, and he’s not afraid to spread his gospel, preaching the good word throughout the world. In other words, he drops gems that glitter his songs like boogers in a Rolex’s bezel. He laces every song with so much fucking GAME that listeners are have no choice but  to replay them in order to suck out every last drop.

Take“Bet You Didn’t Know” off his 2019 renaissance Practice Makes Paper for example. I absolutely rinsed this song when it came out, and I’m still rinsing this shit to this day. The premise of the track is simple: list common knowledge with stunning plainspoken-ness and replayability. The product is as dazzling as it is dizzying. In just under four minutes, E-40 puts listeners on game twenty four separate times. He covers everything from biblical mythos to corkage fees at fine dining establishments, and he makes it all sound like must-see TV.

In a way, every track from the 40 Water mogul is like “Bet You Didn’t Know.” He breaks the world down uniquely, whether his listeners are ready to receive or not. He himself would tell you the same thing: “Name a rapper with more slang than me / Name a rapper with more GAME than me / Name a rapper that taught you things like me.” You can’t! There’s no one like E-40. There never has been, and there may never be again. But, I’m about showing, not telling. Here are a few drops of game that you need to soak.

Seventeen Pieces of Free Game, Courtesy of E-40

1. “I ain’t never been a Fallopian tube, I ain’t never been a vagina / I’ll never be a pussy, bitch, I’ma always be a tiger” (“Up and Down”—2020)

   A lot of guys couldn’t name a single part of the female anatomy. Here, E-40 puts listeners on to (almost) three.

2. “When the next man is winning, don't be concerned / You can hate or you can learn” (“Gamed Up,” 2015)

   Be the change that you want to see in the world! 

3. “It takes a fool to catch a fool, that’s what they say” (“Wake They Shit Up,” 2019)

   “You are the company that you keep,” in modern parlance.

4. “I'm a boss about my shit, about the way I carry it / The way I wear my glasses low, the way I sport my toothpick / The way I pop it at a ho, the way I utilize my mouth / The way I keep my fuckin blow over ol' relative's house” (“They Might Be Tapin,” 2006)

   How you carry yourself when it matters is all that matters.

5. “Ooh! Jesus Christ had dreads, so shake em / I ain't got none, but I'm planning on growing some” (“Tell Me When to Go,” 2006)

   For most American bible-thumpers, this is an inconvenient truth. Open your eyes!

6. “They desperate these days, do anything for money / Eight times out of ten, it don't be your friends, it be they company / That'll leave a door unlocked and set you up for the take / Leave a window cracked, let 'em enter your escape!” (“Quit Hatin’,” 2014)

   Sad, but true. Stay vigilant.

7. “When your past come back and haunt you, it’s karma, it’s Murphy’s law” (“No Choice,” 2019)

   Murphy’s Law? And karma? Used in the same bar? This might be a false application of Murphy’s law, but it’s still some real shit! 

8. “That's gravel rule number 1 / If you ain't intending on using it, never pull a gun” (“Programmin,” 2014)

   He makes this gem dropping shit look easy!

9. “Gotta stand for something or you gon fall for anything / That’s what I be tryna tell my offspring” (“Don’t @ Me,” 2019)

   Consider all of us his offspring!

10. “We can learn from they mistakes before it's too late / Communication is everything, conversation's abandoned / People die every day because of misunderstandings” (“Born in the Struggle,” 2011)

    Words to live by, for real! And he starts the song with an excerpt from the formerly-Honorable Doctor Cornel West.

11. “When it come to communication, you gotta be smart / Put your pride to the side and have a heart-to-heart / With your family and folks, your friends and your foes” (“Blessed by the Game,” 2016)

    In the same vein as the previous bit of game, you need to be smart with what you say, and you need to know when to say it!

12. “Used to keep the bacon fat up in a can of Folger’s / And if the heater ain’t workin and it’s freezing’ cold / We open up the oven and turn on the stove” (“Blossom,” 2019)

    Fonzarelli was trad-con before TikTok made it cute, and he didn’t even want to be!  

13. “I'm a barbarian, a savage, fully and semi automatic / A mannish hustler with the package, rock like Lenny Kravitz” (“Barbarian,” 2011)

    No game here; this shit just rocks, man. Shoutout Lenny Kravitz for popping his crotch live on-stage. Without you, this bar wouldn’t exist.

14. “Should I buy it off the lot or should I lease and write it off? / Or pay cash like a rapper and watch the value decrease?” (“In the Struggle,” 2019)

    Having just purchased a vehicle myself, E could’ve been my guiding light. Damn shame he wasn’t.

15. “I tell all my solid dudes / Don’t fuck up your shoe steppin on these n***** / Step over em, man” (“In the Struggle,” 2019)

    Be the bigger person. These peons aren’t worth it.

16. “Never hustle backwards, always hustle forward / Never live above your means, buy things you can't afford” (“Money on My Mind,” 2013)

    Money management is one of the most important things in life, and it isn’t taught in schools. Thank god for Mr. Flamboyant!

17. “One word that means two things is a double entendre / Two words that mean one thing is a synonym” (“Bet You Didn’t Know,” 2019)

    This is ACKSHUAL knowledge that needs to be covered in the classroom. I’ve done my part.

Bonus Game: 

• “If you don't drink no water, my ninja, you might faint” (“40 Water,” 2008)

  Sometimes, it really is that simple.

• “Never put your right foot in your left shoe” (“Surroundings,” 2019)

  This should be common sense, but as they say, common sense just isn’t common anymore.

• “Rossi wine, Carlos Rossi wine is what I drink / Not all the time but most of the time it helps a playa think” (“It’s All Gravity,” 2002)

  Sometimes, a foggy head provides the greatest clarity. It’s okay to be a piece of shit. It’s a salve to the soul.

• “Oooooh - the definition of Gouda / What's the definition? / Chalupa, scrilla, scratch, paper, Yaper, capital / The definition: Gouda means cheese and cheese means ‘yaper,’ you squares!” (“Gouda,” 2006)

  If you don’t understand this shit now, you never will!

• “I can drink in moderation, but sometimes I drink in ignoration.” (Interview with First We Feast, 2013)

  Not a song, but this pearl of wisdom still counts. 

• “I’ll have a bitch all in her emotions and choked up like Latrell Sprewell did his coach” (“19 Dolla Lapdance”—2020)

  E-40 understands what it means to love a woman and he knows incredible basketball lore? Please, Mr. Simmons, tell us more.

I don’t think I’ve actually explained it before. I should, but do I really want to? For those who’ve not been tapping in with their reading eyes turned on, the name of my semi-monthly roundup is No Passion, All Technique. Put simply, it’s a private exercise in brevity and a public exercise in putting you all on game as fast as possible. Most often, I try to limit myself to just one or two sentences per item. Sometimes, I go rogue. I can’t help it! 

There’s something to be said about ultra-short form, though. There’s no time or space to indulge. The only thing to do is state the facts and get the hell out of there. It’s not easy! But it is necessary. So that’s what No Passion, All Technique is about: me getting in there and putting my nose to the grindstone. I have my fun, but I don’t luxuriate. 

Plus, this shit needs to be short! The homies can barely read, and they need to work together to get through the majority of my output. Really, it’s my gift to you. 

As for the title’s origin, I don’t think I’ll show my hand. It’s my special secret, so I’ll leave you with this instead: new NOTS shirts coming soon! Consider this the preorder. Bang my line.

REQUIRED LISTENING

TAPES 

Enemies at All Times by Sunbloc

Every day we stray further from God’s light, so it should come as no surprise that I’ve been listening to less and less hardcore this year. Sad but true. That is, until this tape from Rochester, New York’s Sunbloc came along. Despite a truly awful introductory track, Enemies at All Times is fast, fun, and creatively daring. I’ve not heard a band this exciting since early-days Dazed (shoutout Buffalo) and Clique (¡Viva la Clika!). Hell, the 69-second “Baggage Claim” hit me like a brick shithouse (of fun)! The whole package re-ignited the hardcore within me, and I now find myself in a frenzy, starving for more fresh shit. More on that later. 

WATCH THE THRONE by Jaeychino & ARP / The Strikers by ST6 JodyBoof

Crank meets evilgiane-type beats (and actual evilgiane beats)? Count me in. Between the three tapes, there are 34 songs, and they’re all perfect. Seriously, Jaeychino and JodyBoof deserve rap stardom immediately, and it looks like they’re about to break through. This shit is skittering, triumphant, quotable, and — I’m hesitant to say this because I love making fun of people who do… but I can’t lie and will say it anyway — beautiful. Don’t sleep.

If that’s not enough, these guys seem to love television. I mean, Jaeychino has the hilarious, love-y “Bridgerton Sex Scene,” and JodyBoof has “Family Guy” featuring Jaeychino! We all eat.

Casts of a Dreamer (Cassette Version) by 454

Am I lucky?? I didn’t manage to get my hands on a Casts of a Dreamer cassette, but I did manage to get them on a cassette-to-MP3 rip (sorry), and that has served me well. I’ve been championing 454 since I first tried my hand at this writing shit, and I don’t plan on ever stopping. Everything he releases is a hit, and I’ll sing it to the rooftops with every single drop. 

Everyone says this, but I’ll parrot it — 454 does this shit with no effort. I like that. And Casts of a Dreamer is just that. At its core, the tape is a distillation of a genius’s lucid dream. On a dime, 454 flits from Florida fast to his fudgy and sweet take on Memphis horrorcore, and he jumps from backpack rap to his trademarked sound just as easily. The tape presents us with a version of 454 that we’ve never seen, freer and breezier than anyone could have ever dreamt. 

The only thing missing from Casts of a Dreamer is a Three Knee Deep-assisted flip into a hardcore bounce house, as an homage to the formative Orlando mixed bill performances. Then would Casts of a Dreamer be perfect. It’s whatever, though. Timely and well-placed features from Pig the Gemini, Atelye Marc, and Tutu more than make up for this oversight. 

If you need more, go listen to Atelye Marc’s Magnetic Garden from June. It’s similarly magical.

marketResearch by dolo2000

Every time a roundup rolls around, it feels like dolo2000 comes a-knocking. And it just so happens that he’s leveled up again in that short span of time. The recipe’s still the same — mix love-drunk everyday trials and tribulations with varicolored instrumentals of the hardest degree — but the bake time has increased. The three-ish months between The Imagining Project and marketResearch were relatively quiet, but the incubation period immediately has proven necessary for Dolo to rise even higher. He has managed to neither jump the gun nor miss the window of opportunity by releasing a tape that is jagged around the edges and soft in the middle. Bon appétit!  

Flipping (EP) by Candy

On the coattails of Candy’s Relapse-released full-length It’s Inside You — a remarkable extreme-via-hardcore record in its own right — the Richmond, Virginia outfit has returned to their roots and dropped an extended play through Triple B that is nothing but pure, unadulterated hardcore. It’s called Flipping, and it’s perfect. Inexplicably, nearly all of the songs break the two-minute mark (a bit long for a guy like me), but it’s good shit! No complaints here. 

TRACKS

“Close” by Elias Rønnenfelt and FAUZIA

Heavy Glory, Elias Rønnefelt’s first foray as a solo artist, is tinged with Americana, soft rock, and melancholy, and this sickly sweet track cements the album’s tone perfectly. This is a deeply impressive debut from the Iceage frontman. Do not miss it.

“Freak Mode” by the Tubs

Don’t let the title scare you. The latest single from the Tubs, better known as Wales’s Finest, is a subdued take on good, old-fashioned rock and roll about a man who has relapsed on a love—a tale as old as time. My dear friend said that it sounds like Pearl Jam if they used their inside voices, but I disagree. They sound more like a tasteful, tactful version of Rusted Root, but with an edge that the Pittsburgh outfit could never possess.

“Kold Flow” by Shaudy Kash and Top$ide

If Shaudy Kash didn’t have such a deep voice, I would’ve thought that “Kold Flow” was a new Suga Free song. 

Speaking of Suga Free, listen to July’s collaboration with Sporty. It’s a bit of fun!

“Tetanus” by Scarab

Philadelphia’s Scarab, fronted by Year of the Knife’s Tyler Mullen, is a terrifying sludgy take on hardcore, and after heroically releasing an unfathomable four tapes in less than one year, they’ve managed to become the band to watch, not just in Philly but in the entire scene. “Tetanus” is proof.

“Westside Story” by Los

Los will always have a story to tell, but “Westside Story,” off his brand-spanking-new 50 State Shawty, takes a welcome turn toward soulful introspection as the Detroit rapper considers where he came from and where he’s going, spinning a tale that only he could. 

“Natural Habitat” by Chuckyy

Chuckyy is generally considered to be Lil Durk’s protégé, but if early October’s Bloodbathh Vol. 1 is any indication, the student has become the master. “Natural Habitat” is Chuckyy’s thesis. The young Chicagoan loves beats that sound like they were ripped from a church livestream, and he’s more than happy to doubletime his delivery as he rips them to shreds. The most astonishing thing about “Natural Habitat” is that despite the extremely sparse bell tolls and bass hits, Chuckyy still manages to lay waste to his surroundings, scorched-earth style. 

“Wheelchair” by 392 Lil Head

This came out in March, but it’s new to me! I’ve never heard someone rap on a beat that sounds like the alarm of a sinking submarine, and I’m not sure that it’ll ever happen again. Enjoy it while it lasts!

Extra Credit

RAP (Mostly from Detroit)

“People’s Favorite (Remix)” by Chicken P featuring 42 Dugg

“Fire Grams” by Pros Ap

“CANT SLEEP” by DaeMoney

“where tf beyonce at” by Vayda

“Mars” by Raq Baby

HARDCORE

“Who Does Your Daddy Sell His Guns To?” by Faze

“Sore Eyes” by Fan Club

“Profane Usurpation” by KRUELTY

“Feeling Bless” by High Vis

“Brandish the Blade” by Undeath

WHATEVER

“baltimoreluvsong (freestyle) by Joy Postell

“BROKEN” by Ela Minus

“Auto Pilot” by Atelye Marc

“Won’t Let You Go” by Callahan & Witscher

“Soon” by TR/ST

Something is so fucking rich about there being an alleged instance of police brutality (highly doubt it!) at the Timothée Chalamet Lookalike Contest in NYC on Sunday. I mean, come on! A bunch of twinkie white men caused enough of a scene upon the arrival of the ackshual Timothée Chalamet that the police had to get involved and they thought that they were brolic enough to stand up to said NYPD officers? That is so sick. Too funny, man. The whole thing reeks of transplants who want to “make their mark” on the city, so end up participating in some wack shit like this.

Anyway, there are plenty of unwell white men who could pass for Timothée Chalamet in any given major city; the only requirements are to look sad, watch niche arthouse films, wear either an A24 cap or carry a New Yorker tote bag, and be thin-on-the-outside-fat-on-the-inside (TOFI). The number of viable candidates is probably in the millions, but there are three dudes who could’ve made this lookalike meet-up/contest infinitely cooler.

Gucci Pineapple (TikTok)

I have no idea what this fool’s name actually is, and I don’t plan on finding out anytime soon. He certainly fits the criteria for guys who could pass as TChal—small, sinewy, and smug about his tastes and preferences, solely because someone simply told him that he “looks” like Tim. Regardless, Gucci Pineapple would bring a vibe that these overly dedicated lookalikes could never. He’s a true blue, dyed-in-the-wool weirdo with the edge of an extremely PC loose cannon. He’s the type of dude that will say anything, and any onlookers would be mildly put off by his presence. They’d still rock with him, though. The only real issue is that he appears to be a bit…furry, based on his intense unibrow and well-manicured mouser, something that Timbo is not. No matter! The contest needed a guy like him. I’m sure he was missed.

P.S. I think that they should’ve casted HIM to play Bob Dylan in the biopic, but what do I know?

Jimin (BTS)

Jimin, BTS’s glorified backup dancer and enterprising solo act, would’ve slotted right into the Washington Square Park event, and he would have provided some much needed diversity to the lineup of contestants. Do I actually think he looks anything like Trigger Tim? No. I don’t. But I do think that he would have come correct in terms of vibe and swagger. He’s assuredly not the most fun or interesting guy to have at a function like this, but he would add some much needed star power. Plus, just look at him! I don’t know. Maybe I’m totally misunderstanding Jimin. Just give him a chance to shine for once in his life! He needs it more than you realize.

Robert Downey Jr. (Movies)

We saw what RDJ did in Tropic Thunder, so we can only imagine what he would’ve done at the Timothée Chalamet lookalike contest! Downey, famous for his transformation from boyish cokehead to semi-respected elder statesman, could be exactly what the doctor ordered. A sufficiently masculine dude playing a waifish twink who so badly wants to be the big man on campus would be incredible, and his role in the aforementioned Tropic Thunder is proof that he has the chops. Based on his current look and overall vibe, though, he’d probably need a wig, intense makeup, and a set of contact lenses, but RDJ has overcome larger obstacles in the past. This would be a cakewalk.

Just some food for thought.

The Diplomats, better known as Dipset for the rubes, the uneducated, and the uninformed, used to be those dudes! They’re old and weird now, but they were truly unstoppable in the early 2000s. Jimmy Jones? At times inconsistent, but resurging. Freekey Zeekey? A legend in his own right. Juelz Santana? I’m all over it. Cam’ron? Infallible in all that he says and does. Well, most times. Sometimes his sports-based conversations with Ma$e on It Is What It Is can go sideways, but that’s neither here nor there. By rap purists, he was considered one of the worst rappers of the 2000s, but they were just hating. Cam’ron rules. Dipset had a firm grip on the rap landscape for a long time. However, I was not there, and therefore I cannot and will not speak on it.

I will, however, speak on the sheer and immense weight of Cam’ron’s legacy. To be blunt, it’s big. Huge, even. From the ridiculous samples and nearly satirical sartorial choices to the over-the-top bars, vast and extremely varied vernacular, and untouchable flow, Cam’ron’s swag is all over the current hip-hop movement, despite the fact that many artists may not even realize that they are jacking him some way or another.

The finest example of this is, of course, “Killa Cam,” the self-mythologizing anthem from 2004’s Purple Haze. There’s not much I could say that hasn’t been said a million times before, but I’ll do my best to be different (you know this!). It launched this fool Opera Steve’s entire career and is most likely still paying his bills. He only did the hook! It cemented the New York-via-Kingston, Jamaica production duo The Heatmakerz as two of the best in the business. It proved that Cam’ron can do anything with the kind of panache that only he possesses, even if the old fussies weren’t rocking with him at first. 

“Killa Cam” is a time machine, always ready to transport listeners back to Harlem in the early aughts, and people will want to ride it until the end of time itself. That said, enjoying the track and reinventing it are totally different things. Hip-hop, as we all know by now, relies on samples of old records—typically jazz, soul, or rock—to both make a statement and grab attention. Cam’ron himself is a prime example of this. He cut his teeth by rapping over flips of Queen, Mavis Staples, and Billy Joel, and that’s cool. But flipping a rap giant and making it your own is a different thing entirely. 

Someone can be a fan of a song and flip it, but some tracks are sacred. They’re not supposed to be sampled because their greatness cannot go any higher. If someone wants to flip a song like “Killa Cam,” they need to be absolutely certain of their unfuckwitable-ness and of their ability to make something new from the old guard, which is an extremely tall task. Luckily for us listeners, two of the “Killa Cam” time machine’s bravest (and most recent) straphangers are Reese Youngn and wildkarduno, who, thanks to their obvious affinity for Cam’ron, fucked around and tried.

Reese Youngn hails from Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. He consistently puts out a brand of pain music that only he could get away with. Not to jump directly into comparisons, but if guys like Jaydayoungan and Yungeen Ace were fueled by pain, then Reese is fueled by agony. He puts his entire heart and soul into this shit, and you can hear it as he wrenches his vocal chords into a knotty howl. His strangely emotional delivery mixed with his brusque vocals make his music stand out in a landscape that was at one time saturated with pain music. 

After going viral for his warbling, aggrieved remix of Coi Leray’s “No More Parties,” Reese has found himself a nice little career. His music is nothing like “Killa Cam,” nor is it like any of Cam’ron’s other music. But Reese loves a good sample, and the Heatmakerz-crafted, Opera Steve-assisted track, despite its status, was ripe for the picking. Though Reese’s “Killa Kam (G Mix)” was released back in 2020, he finally uploaded it to streaming earlier this year, and thank god he did. 

Where “Killa Cam” is ebullient and boastful—Harlem to its core—”Killa Kam” is sorrowful and tinged with the sharp pain of regret. Reese uses the exact beat that Cam’ron used to cement his legacy as Harlem’s flyest, but instead of canonizing himself for sainthood, Reese comes out as a sinner looking to repent. He covers topics from his past that he’ll never be able to outpace and will be forced to grapple with forever: feeding his friends to the streets, losing them before he realizes it, and making sense of the aftermath. The lyrics are raw and unrefined, and his delivery only adds to it.

Reese is really going through some shit on this track, and you can hear it in his voice. As he raps, “My n**** died, his momma cried, ain't give me no hug / She said I fed him to the streets like I ain’t got no love,” his rough croak of a voice magnifies the gravity. At first his voice is so commanding that he sounds unbreakable, but at the end of this bar (and every other, for that matter), he falters, showing the cracks in his armor. In those brief moments, it’s not hard to tell that Reese really feels this shit, almost as if he wishes he could change it all.

On the other hand, we have wildkarduno. Hailing from Atlanta, Georgia, uno, similar to the Cam’ron of old, does a little bit of everything. He eats plugg just as easily as classic ATL trap, and when shit goes sideways, he’s ready for that too, ready to feast. His strength is that he can easily bend his style to meet any beat of any genre, and it’s always going to be tough. That said, until late July of this year, he’d never really tackled anything as monolithic as “Killa Cam.”

On July’s cyberundergr0und-hosted mixtape Evil Hero, uno takes on a smorgasbord of instrumentals, pushing his limits and seemingly having the time of his life. He touches on old Gucci Mane on the aptly named “Old Gucci,” straight plugg on “Dstnd,” and whatever the hell they were trying on the Old Atlanta-tinged “Watxh Yo Shoes.” The tape has intense highs and lows, but when the music is good, it is unbeatable. When the music is not so good, the tape is also intensely beatable. (“Be A Sign” comes to mind.) On “Listen,” the second track, it sounds like uno could say just about anything and it’d still go nuts.

In the spirit of playoff baseball, the song is a power hitter in the contact hitter slot. By the time “Listen” rolls around, the opener “Rookie” has already set the tone with a moody, piano-driven base hit where uno boisterously declares that he’s not here to play. Indeed, he is not. As “Listen” is only an 80 second blast, uno doesn’t have a lot of time to work. He doesn’t need it. Thanks to SenseiATL’s ability to handle a twitchy chop of Opera Steve’s vocals on “Killa Cam” over a pulverizing instrumental, uno has more than enough firepower to goose a home run in half that time. 

And he does just that. By and large, “Listen” is just one way for wildkarduno to talk his shit in a new way. Whoever is in opposition to him is irrelevant. All we need to know is that they aren’t shit, they were never shit, and they’ll never be shit. The fact that he raps over such an conspicuous sample is a flex in itself. Typically, uno’s beats are so muddied by bass hits that the sample (and his vocals) are drowned out. “Listen” airs everything out despite the fact that uno isn’t really supposed to be sampling “Killa Cam.” It serves as a vessel for uno to position himself as the best to ever do it, whether he’s gassing or not.

Why uno and SenseiATL flipped “Killa Cam” is largely unimportant. It’s fucking cool, especially in this context. “Killa Cam” is a legendary song, and to flip it in such a minimal way shows uno’s and Sensei’s confidence. They’re probably not the guys that should’ve sampled it, but who cares? They did it anyway. This shit was never meant to meet Cam’ron’s original, but in the end, is came damn close.

The same goes for Reese Youngn’s interpretation of the source material. Reese is no Cam’ron (or Opera Steve, for that matter), and I don't think he should ever even try to be them, not that he would. His delivery matches Cam’ron in that both rappers were spitting like nothing could touch them, but Reese diverges by proving that he’s human for a few very brief moments at the end of every bar.

What’s more, the creativity and versatility that he displays on “Killa Cam (G Mix)” is justification enough to cite Cam’ron’s original. His creative motion alone embodies everything that “Killa Cam” is about. He doesn’t need to jack Cam’s sauce, so it’s a flex that he decided to flip it and do some fuckery on it. The juxtaposition of Reese’s interminable pain and Cam’s eternal jubilation of self is nothing short of inspired.

The same goes for wildkarduno. Though he’s a bit lacking as a wordsmith (still great at rapping!), uno’s spirit and enthusiasm more than make up for it. He and Cam both have confidence and bounce for days, so the flip wasn’t wasted in the slightest. uno’s energy alone links him to his source material, and it carries him to slightly lower but still impressive heights. 

When it’s all said and done, it’s unlikely that either rapper will reach the high-flying verbal gymnastics of Cam’ron when Dipset was firing, but who could? Cam had the pen, the swagger, and the unbeatable flow, combined with the perfect supporting cast to take on the world. For Reese and uno to believe in themselves enough to even attempt to flip a song from a giant like Cam’ron is a superhuman feat. The fact that they rapped their asses off is just icing on the cake. What more can we ask for?

Required Listening

State of the Dim Address

*Disclaimer: I’m not keen on genre tags beyond descriptors like “rap” or “hardcore,” but it appears that I might also be a hypocrite. Sorry.*

If you’re reading this, you’re probably at least familiar with the dominant sounds of the underground and nothing here will be news to you. For those who feign ignorance, it could even be that you’ve never intentionally listened to the stuff, but perhaps you heard someone playing it on a shitty bluetooth speaker on the train? And maybe you liked it? 

At this moment, the underground is humming with the spirit of avant guardians like Niontay and Tomibillsbigger; the deep pedigree of Chicago’s apocalyptic doomsayers; the free car-ers and sample-crankers from the DMV; and, for lack of a better term, the jerk-ers and uncategorizables like Tenkay, YT, and Rico Ace. Powering the subterranean above all else, though, are Atlanta’s long-dominant proponents of dark plugg. 

At its essence, dark plugg is back-of-the-classroom music: loud, abrasive, and at times violent. That is to say, this shit is good, often great. Plugg itself is a vast and varied genre that allows artists to effortlessly make it their own, and dark plugg takes its reach even further by incorporating themes from trap music. There are a million dark plugg type beats floating around YouTube and a million more loosies on SoundCloud. Any one of them could be a gem, but there are two sides to every coin. For all the gems, there are fifteen stinkers. Scene standouts have their share of duds, too, making it so that even the holy trinity of dark plugg — Slimesito, Glokk40Spaz, and Lazer Dim 700 — can be tough nuts to crack. 

For context: these three are the elder statesmen of this young genre, and they show no signs of stopping. Their songs are infinitely listenable and always intriguing, but there’s no good entry point for new fans. They are machines, and new tracks are posted every week, if not every day. Not one track will suddenly flip a switch in someone’s brain. To reap the benefits, listeners need to fully tap into their world, and their worlds are vast. Taking the plunge is worth it, but from the outside, the songs are outward threats upon square society’s sensitive ears, so it can be tough for greenies and aficionados alike to find a way in without a guide.

Fortunately, I’m here to guide you (at least across the surface).

Sito, Glokk, and Lazer all employ the tough and cryptic talk that has taken over rap, but like all dark plugg characters, they make it sound boring — in a good way! — as if they do shit every day. Their muted deliveries, used to croak blasé threats and unconcerned boasts, are two-dimensional at their most dynamic and rarely reach a volume above the aural threshold of pain. They could be saying the most unrestrained, egregious shit in the world (try Glokk’s “Jump out the window like Peter Pan, n**** gon' make him believe” or “Young n**** want a pistol, bitch, I want a tank” for starters), but their deliveries make it so these lines wouldn’t raise any eyebrows unless one disembodied brow happened to have its listening ears turned all the way up.  

By themselves, the lyrics are blissfully absurd and barely discernible—it’s the dark plugg accompaniments that bring the songs to life. The beats — helmed by guys with scrawled names like boolymon, tdf, perc40, and countless others — are what sets them apart. They are at once full of deliriant joy and hollow menace. They oscillate between brain shaking and sleep inducing, seemingly at will. One Osamason (perhaps the most major of the dark plugg players) track will have the most breathtaking sample ever, and the next will spin your sense totally out of alignment. “Talking 2 A Ghost” and “Trenches” instantly come to mind. Whether the sound leans more toward the “dark” or the “plugg” really just depends on if the artist charged their vape that morning.

In spite of their self-serious tendencies, dark plugg soldiers lead vivid, carefree lives — at least in their songs. For every threat and call-to-action, there are at least two moments of ebullient light-heartedness, expressed through a ridiculous comparison, a ludicrous boast, or an anecdote from some after-hours antic. Most often, it’s a potent mix of all three.

Take Slimesito (alter ego Eddy Bash) and “Demon,” his Philly tread-flavored anthem from 2021. On the F1lthy-produced track, Sito hits all of his favorite touchstones in just the chorus, which lands ten seconds in. He compares himself to Queen Latifah in the cult classic Set It Off, his most frequent self-mythologizing comparison and favorite celebrity. He boasts about his gaggle of women and their countries of origin (this time, Egypt). He recounts an awkward street encounter with an old teacher. And, on top of it all, he finds the time to tell us, verbatim, that his vida is “brazy.” On first listen, it's an inane and nonsensical track with a great, heavy beat. On the second and third listens, you’ll start to pick up the lyrics and process their patterns. Spend the next seven spins wisely and by the tenth listen, it’ll like you’re in on the fun. 

The same goes for Glokk40Spaz, Sito’s frequent collaborator and scene folk hero. Despite Glokk’s swings between jail and freedom, his output is consistently great, enough so that he has been propelled into the spotlight, thanks to a name drop from sigh iShowSpeed. Compared to Slimesito, Glokk turns his delivery up by just a hair, raising the volume from his inside voice to a stilly squawk. Otherwise, the two occupy the same lane, peacefully coexisting and working together when possible. 

Then there’s Lazer Dim 700, perhaps the toughest nut to crack, and somehow the most ascendant of all. Though he’s been on the ball since 2019 (back when he called himself luh4thagod), he caught fire in late 2023 off the strength of one-offs like “Asian Rock,” “Tony Dim,” and, somewhat recently, his true plugg heel turn “Laced Max.” Typically, his brand of music relies on maximally blown-out bass and muffled vocals, accented with, dare I say *Fantano voice* a beautiful amalgamation of twinkling stock keyboards, nervous hi-hats, and turbo rolls.

Lazer’s rise has been as drastic as it has been fantastic. One day he was toiling on SoundCloud, and in the middle of February, it seemed that, out of nowhere, he’d blown up the fuck up on X, probably thanks to power user billdifferen. By the next week, he’d blown up on TikTok and was priming himself to take over YouTube after filming a few crudely charming productions.

At the end of last November, Dim had just 541 subscribers on YouTube. By February of this year, he had amassed a touch over 3,000. After just one month, the count jumped to over 16,000 in March. In early June, he somehow had reached over 100,000 subscribers, and if he can keep his foot on the gas, he’s poised to hit 500,000 in about six months. It doesn’t hurt that he is hilarious and ever true to himself. It has been an astronomical come-up. That said, massive talent and success are heavy, and all it takes to get crushed is a single wrong move.

See, Dim’s quick rise at the hands of the internet (excluding the SoundCloud and YouTube warriors—we salute you!) prevented him from growing a real fan base before going nuclear, something that Sito, Glokk, and, to a lesser extent, Osamason haven’t yet had to deal with. This premature come-up has left him vulnerable to a mortal infection: the eboys, the indieheads, the TikTok-ers, and the Instagram guys. These swagless, clout-crazed, indie sleazeball rascals got their hands on him and his singular vernacular, and they’ve come this close to squeezing the life out of him. His brand of uninhibited aural destruction is so inaccessible that it somehow became the most accessible underground shit created since, like, IceJJFish or some millennial shit. 

The internet-centrics flocked to it in droves, and they have since used both “Blacklist” and “Laced Max” on TikTok until they were abused. They’ve posted random loosies on their Instagram stories for attention (namely “Winchester,” at least among the busters that I regrettably follow). They’ve played it for their friends and laugh and laugh, which is understandable; Lazer Dim makes objectively ridiculous music! But listening to it purely for the thrill and the shock is not only detrimental to our pleasure-saturated internet-addled brains, but it is also detrimental to the career of the artist. 

When someone listens to this kind of music solely for the schtick, the schtick quickly wears thin. As ridiculous as the music may be, Lazer Dim 700 doesn’t do this shit for novelty. He does it to push the boundaries of dark plugg, muttering crazy, cool shit over insane beats. The problem is that he does so in the most extreme way, allowing for scene interlopers and attention seekers to latch onto Lazer for a week or two, pummel his music into the ground, and leave him left for dead.

As a result, Lazer Dim is stuck between a rock and a hard place. His fans will continue to listen to the music regardless, but his popularity (and the revenue that comes with it) will diminish sooner than later because he didn’t have enough time to build a true army of fans between breaking through and blowing up. 

Compare this to someone like Osamason, who gained traction much more naturally and had time to build an organic following. For him, he had much more time to establish his audience between foundational tracks “Cts-v” and “Troops” (covered in NOTS VIII) and the release of Flex Music, thanks to a steady stream of rock-solid loosies. Lazer Dim didn’t have that kind of time. Instead of gaining popularity over nearly two years, he found fame (well, internet notoriety, at least) in just two months. 

On the other hand, every time Lazer levels up or collaborates with someone, he has the opportunity to remain relevant in the mainstream, make money off people who think his music is funny, and continue to record whatever he wants. He’s still in a position where he can’t lose, but he needs to be careful. Before he knows it, people might be laughing at him rather than with him.

Lazer Dim’s two most recent collaborations demonstrate his current position nicely. On Friday, the 13th of September, Lazer teamed up with the godfather Slimesito himself and laid waste to the scene (complimentary). On Slimesito’s “DANGEROUS,” he loudly effuses his signature sound into wonderful world of Sito with some help from producers goxan and kade. The duo does their thing to the highest, most cranium-numbing degree, bouncing off the walls with mischievous glee. It’s good!

That same Friday the 13th, Lazer found himself on Jones’s “Do Dat,” and the two laid waste to the scene (derogatory). This time, the final product simply sucks. From the go, “Do Dat” sounds off, and it doesn’t help that Jones sucks at rapping, writing, and picking beats. Lazer does his thing, of course, but Jones bites and jacks with abandon, poorly at that, and the product makes that clear. Where Sito gladly took Lazer’s sound and changed his own game for synergy, Jones jacked everything that made Lazer’s brand of dark plugg special and created the most derivative, soulless version of it. It’s not good.

“Do Dat” is what would happen if Lazer gave Jones a lite version of his sound and told him to try it before he buys it. It’s a lifeless, tired track that refuses to try anything new; it’s a derivative distillation of everything that was exciting at the beginning of the year. Which is all to say, not fit for Lazer. Lazer Dim 700 is a specialist, not an all-rounder. Why bother putting him on a track if you refuse to bring yourself into his zone?

The same goes for the fans and phoneys: why bother latching onto Lazer Dim 700 or any other ascendent, left-of-center artist if you’re just going to forget about them in a month? All that does is cheapen everything they've been working to develop while simultaneously oversaturating the market for the sake of some stupid “bit.” Instead of putting an early end to a good thing like Lazer Dim 700, you could just listen to Brennan Jones and get the exact same results. That’s the motiv operandi for artists like Jones: they just want instant recognition — they don’t care if they has to debase themselves to get it as long as their path is the path of least resistance. 

But hey — Jones, the weirdos that inspired him, and the weirdos in his wake aren’t totally useless. Lazer probably got a bag from Jones, and Jones is currently getting the clout that he so desperately desires, and I guarantee you that he doesn’t lose any sleep over the fact that his audience is largely IDF soldiers and sympathizers. Let’s be glad that the two will likely never work together again. 

As for what happens after an artist goes viral and reaches unintended audiences, I’m not sure what to think. Lazer Dim 700’s swift ascent to overexposure is nothing new, but it’s bittersweet to watch. If you’re a fan of an artist, you want them to succeed, but you still want them to remain your little secret. The minute they reach a heightened level of fame, they run the risk of selling out and losing that special so-and-so. In rare cases, they can “fall off” in terms of popularity and continue their artistic journey as if they never found fame, like the former GOOD Music signee Valee, who is now churning out better music than he ever did under Ye. There’s really no other viable option.

To quote a line often incorrectly attributed to Lao Tzu, “[t]he candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long,” to which I add, “it is up to the chandler what to do with the wax.” An artist can burn brighter than the sun and fade into obscurity after fifteen minutes, or they can use their fifteen minutes to melt the wax of their future and build the candle of the artist that they want to become. In the case of Lazer Dim 700, I’ll be here listening to whatever he puts out and talking my shit until the bitter end, whether it’s in fifteen minutes or fifteen years. 

Yeah, I missed my chance to do a “Best [insert unit of music] of the Year…So Far…” thing. This is yet another stain on my white t-shirt of punctuality, but guess what? I don’t mind the stains. As a matter of fact, now is my chance to show them off, so here are a bunch of songs that I like from this year.

Ideally, each track would be a true blue single, won’t overlap with my piece for On The Button about the best shit from Quarter One, and you’ll love them. I’m only human, though, and some of them might be album deep cuts, overlap with old work, and/or stink. So be it!

Maybe I’ll even toss in an album/EP or two. I don’t know. We’ll see.

Oh, and, if you DO disagree with me and think some busted-ass thoughts, let me know! I’d be honored to engage in a loving discourse in the comments section.

As they say, let the roundup begin!

Thirty FIRE Songs from the First SEVEN Months of the Year (plus one from the penultimate month of 2023)

RAPPY

• “Baby Gangsta” by Audi Money

  • Audi Money already has cosigns from Veeze, 42 Dugg, and Babyface Ray, but allow me to put you on if you haven’t been already. 

• “Check 4 Me” by Babyxsosa

  • Someone said that Babyxsosa has been singing her ass off recently. They weren’t lying! The lush backdrop from Devstacks is a nice touch, too.

• “Delusional” by Nino Paid

  • Free car and crank, meet sexy drill. No further comments. 

• “Fake Love” by Mitchell

  • Lifestyle rap of the melancholic persuasion needs more love.

• “First Impression (Interlude) by Baby Smoove

  • This is the ONLY good Smoove song as of late. Sorry. 

• “Freestyle 2 (ganger flo) by Highway

  • Yeah, this shit is big, but whatever. Highway in this mode makes me want to hear Future record an album with nothing but jittery beats from guys like DDotFreezing and the Shoulder Shrug crew.

• “Good Enough” by Xhulooo

  • Every time I hear a Xhulooo song, I expect the same thing: inoffensive cookie-cutter SoundCloud fare that will go in one ear and out the other. Every time, I am wrong! “Good Enough” is no exception.

• “Holy Cow” by MariBoy Mula Mar

  • Not his best, but certainly not his worst! I gotta show love to Mar for always holding it down for the 414! 

  • Insane line: “Walked in with four hoes, look like Destiny’s Child // What I made off one call, she like, ‘Holy cow!’”

• “I Kan Vision My Time Komin” by WildKardUno

  • In case you gleaned nothing from the title, this is an eloquent, beautifully done track. 

• “Ima Star” by Yhapojj

  • *See the above commentary about Xhulooo and replace his name with Yhapojj’s.

• “leh xrash” by stuullo

  • Stuullo has an online campaign in which he claims that NO ONE is freaking it like he is on the free-to-use, mobile-based music creation app BandLab. He might be right, but he really needs to try Ableton or something. Might just change his life.

• The Lev Show by 1100 Himself

  • I’ve wanted to write about this album for a long time , but I’ve had to give up each time I tried. It’s so good, yet I can never distill any sort of in-depth explanation. Allow me to try again. The Lev Show blasts through 12 songs in 22 minutes as 1100 Himself masterfully pours his Bay Area panache over the top of saccharine Stockton instrumentals at their most chilled-out. His lyrics are simple if not absurd—namely his propensity for using “fuckin’” as a high-impact descriptor—and his ability to turn a phrase to tell a story and utilize off-kilter parlance is impressive. It almost feels like an entirely new subgenre of rap. In other words, The Lev Show is must-see TV, and you won’t want to miss what happens next.

• “the silver case” by Dolo2000

  • Dolo2000 is a tortured poet. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. For every broken emulator, missed opportunity at the swap meet that he mentions, trial, and tribulation, I cry a thousand tears. Fortunately for me, tears never run out.

• “Stick Around Lady” by Offshore

  • Back in undergrad, I wrote an unnecessarily long paper about South African rap music, and I thank god that Offshore hadn’t yet started rapping. If he had, I would’ve never finished that paper because his ultra-short songs are nothing short of hypnotizing. I mean, Offshore really has it like that. Hell, I’d probably still be listening to “Stick Around Lady.” 

• “Stupid Bands” by Ot7 Quanny

  • Limitless quotables in this sucker.

• “What Zit Tooya” by Xaviersobased

  • Xaviersobased is the Kendrick Lamar of music that doesn’t stink, and I don’t think that this will ever change.

Talk your shit!

HEAVY

• “Dreams Less Sweet” by Candy

  • This shit sounds like the gnarliest, most twisted bad dream ever, and that sort of literal application of a title deserves to be celebrated.

• “Give Me the Painkiller” by NAILS

  • I’ve never been big on NAILS, but this song changed me. Tuning in is like eyeing down a kaleidoscope illuminated by the fires of hell, which is to say that it’s not to be missed.

• “Heavyweight” by DIME

  • This song is the closest that I’ve even come to rinsing a Title Fight song. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but I think I’ve made my point.

• “Motor Mouth” by Worlds Worst

  • “Everybody go fucking nuts for this next one.” From Salt Lake City to the world, Worlds Worst rules. If they keep getting harder and harder, we could be in for a REAL treat.

• “New York Minute” by Missing Link

  • I couldn’t say anything about Missing Link better than what my dear friend Evan said in NOTS IX, so I won’t. Just let go of any preconceived notions you have and know that it’s good.

• “Tlaloc Icuic” by Tzompantli

  • Shoutout 20 Buck Spin for always putting me onto some crazy shit. It happens every month or so and will continue until the end of time (ideally). The ten-piece Tzompantli may hail from Pittsburgh, but, in case it wasn’t already clear, their roots are founded in indigenous culture and lore. Consider this song to be a teleporter to a completely different world. 

• “Your Ghost” by Footballhead

  • Chicago’s Footballhead claim to lean directly into the poppier side of 90s radio rock, but “Your Ghost” is heavy, loud, and emotional. Someone has some explaining to do…then again, that hook is too sticky! Maybe they’re right… 

    • Note: their brand new album is a bummer.

Talk your shit!

WHATEVVY

• “8818” by Tisakorean

  • Tisakorean is my Kanye West. MUMU 8818 is my 808s and Heartbreak. “8818” is my “See You In My Nightmares.” Crazy, but true.

• “Creation” by 9Million (Live on Audiotree)

  • I heard this shit live in SLC at a vegan coffee shop filled with alternative youth who needed a violently loud escape from their day-to-day lives, and it was life-affirming. I was the second tallest person there. Rockstar shit.

• “FTR” by Cruel Santino

  • This song did come out at the end of November of last year, but it is simply that good. I couldn’t not include it. I heard it in February! That should be fine!

• Khaif (EP) by Nabeel

  • This shit just rocks. I don’t know what else to say. Listen and tell me otherwise.

• “Like Lovers Do” by Elias Rønnenfelt

  • Listen, I like Iceage. I really do! They have released five nearly perfect albums, but they just don’t hit like frontman Elias Rønnenfelt’s debut solo endeavor. This is how I imagine classic rock would sound if it didn’t suck.

• “PULL ME BACK” by Samuel Shabazz featuring Dre Butterz

  • Sammy needs to quit rapping and just make a bunch of music that sounds like this—damn!

• “My Day Off” by Kacy Hill featuring Nourished by Time

  • My lovely girlfriend will gladly tell you that I was the most excited man in the world when I finally heard this duet with Kacy and Marcus from Nourished by Time. I am not ashamed of this. In fact, I am deeply pleased!

• “Starburster“/“Favourite” by Fontaines D.C.

  • Currently, the Fontaines have a new album in the chamber, and it’s my most anticipated of the year. That said, I’m worried that it might let me down. Even if it stinks, at least they blessed us with this binary of heaters.

Talk your shit!

Ten TOOTHSOME Morsels of Note from the First SEVEN Months of the Year

• Gatecreeper is officially trash.

• Perfect Days is a perfect movie.

• Electronic music in the mainstream is over. 

  • NOBODY wants to see 2 Friends premier “Big Booty Mix 25” live in the flesh at Madison Square Garden.

• The brat movement needed to be terminated, and I’m glad the antidote was somehow even more busted than the poison itself.

  • That said, “The 360 remix with robyn and yung lean” still rules.

• The Bear’s costume department is twisted for trying to trick the public into thinking that chefs are actually cool and wear japanese garments. They don’t. 

  • Good chefs vape and wear Nikes from Kohl’s.

• Producers tdf and perc40 might actually change the game this year if my reading on their recent team-up with wildkarduno is accurate.

• Internet radio is nothing new, but it’s beginning to take over my life.

  • e.g. I need a device that allows me to toggle between NTS 1, NTS 2, 8 Ball, The Lot, and any other similar shit, and I want it to look like a dark gray version of this with a light gray face and red details.

• Rylo Rodriguez is adding all of Detroit’s swag to his arsenal, and it’s bringing tears to the eyes of the Rylo faithful, myself included. We all knew that he would ascend to this height. It was simply a question of when.

  • See: Rylo and Veeze’s take on Laila!’s “Not My Problem” vs. Rob49’s take on the same song. It will tell you everything that you need to know.

• Zach Bryan is unlistenable. Man needs to stiffen that upper lip and sauce it up a little! 

  • I just don’t want him to go out like Rod Wave.

• Anatomy of a Fall would be a very good movie if Justine Triet and Arthur Harari realized that no twelve year old in the history of twelve year olds has ever spoken as thoughtfully as Daniel Maleski does, especially in the final act.

Talk your shit!

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The “On Deck” Onslaught

If you’re on TikTok—I assume you’re not because you’re reading this and therefore are a free-thinker—you’re probably well-familiar with the current sounds that are bubbling up. 

“You must be talking about ‘Million Dollar Baby’!” No, I am not. While Tommy Richman’s little soundbite is, obviously, a top ten hit that could reach number one, I don’t care about this. It’s a fine chune that I accidentally put my students onto weeks ago, and now I am goddamned sick of it during class! But I’m just one guy. Tommy seems like a cool guy even though he’s just another disciple of Brent Faiyaz, and Sparkheem, the song’s producer and already legendary architect of free car music (more on this later), deserves his flowers. This time, I’ll live and let live.

Anyway, I’m talking about the rebirth of Gucci Mane’s “On Deck.” Maybe this is more for the YouTube music heads, but that’s not important. What matters is that rappers in their late teens and early twenties have flocked to the Nitti-produced deep cut from From Zone 6 to Duval, and for good reason.

The original “On Deck” is infectious. It kicks off with an ominous thud of deep, browbeat keys, setting the tone for what is certain to be a grievous black tie affair. Before you even realize that this is nothing more than a pump fake, Nitti charges the lane and posterizes his own instrumental with a bombast of slippery, synthesized melody. From then on, the guys are on go-mode. Gucci engages in some serious acrobatics, attempting to squash his rivals by running the three-man weave by himself. It’s stupid fun, especially when he laments that copycat-stricken road to stardom is wearing him thin:

It's underrated, unappreciated, highly-decorated

Damn, I been hella patient, but I'm losing all my patience

Many wanna duplicate, generate, penetrate

Innovative bachelor, Gucci Mane the bachelor

At the time, Gucci’s style was being bitten off left and right, so I feel for him, but there’s something so tickling about the possibility of a Guwop-anchored, 2008-era season of The Bachelor. Maybe that’s just my infatuation with reality television talking. 

It’s a great song, especially for its time, but the rappers of the new and now are morphing it into something special, further cementing Gucci’s legacy in the process. Much like the G Herbo-sparked charge to drop a freestyle over Three 6 Mafia’s “Who Run It,” up-and-coming rappers are sprinting to Youtube to share their takes on Wop’s “On Deck,” and it all started with VonOff1700.

I don’t know much about VonOff1700, but this fool can most certainly rap. He’s only been in the game since 2020, but with his drawling, quick-lipped flow and insane work ethic, he’s already left an impressive wake of singles and loosies behind him. That said, going especially crazy in 2023 with numerous YouTube successes primed him for a massive hit.

Early in the year, he found it. 

On January 12th, Von dropped “Opps On Deck,” a vehicle for him to spew his spindly threats, prove himself, and pay homage to Mr. Zone 6, something that he has done numerous times since. “Opps On Deck” has gone absolutely nuclear, netting Von over 3.7 million total views and nearly 15,000 new subscribers between January and March, according to Social Blade. Fucking hell—that’s not even including April, the month that this shit really popped! 

I mean, the song is an ackshual banger! Von managed to lease the original “On Deck” beat from Nitti, and he more than does it justice. Where Gucci previously flipped and slid his way through the pockets of the instrumental, Von now punches a hole right through the middle, artfully dismissing his enemies while simultaneously proving that rapping isn’t just his hobby.

My apologies, though—sometimes I get a little excited. As I was saying, the numbers are somehow even crazier than they appear, and that’s because of TikTok. As of May 1st, VonOff1700’s song has been used in more than 15,000 videos, and that’s just in the videos that have used the track’s official audio. To wager a guess, “Opps On Deck” has been used in at least twice that number, thanks to the unofficial and reused sounds that run rampant on the app and divert money away from artists. 

Obviously, “Opps On Deck” has changed Von’s life and will continue to do so, but it’s not just him who’s freaking it. Countless others have taken to YouTube and TikTok to premiere their own “On Deck” freestyles, and many of them are quite good.

Take DeeGlook and 1BoDean’s rendition, “Belt Boys,” for example. Where Von chose to chastise his opposition like a war technician, Dee and Bo opted for a more unbridled approach, launching immediately into rap hysterics. At times, Nitti beats the hell out of the guys, namely Dee, but their overall presence and Dee’s knack for finding insane pockets more than make up for it.

The remainder of the “On Deck” freestyles range from middling to very good, but none will top VonOff1700’s originator. Well, other than Gucci Mane’s true vanguard traack, of course. This type of old guard-praising rears its head every year or two, and nobody deserves this sort of renaissance more than Guwop.

Since he arrived, rappers of every generation and micro-generation have been influenced by him whether we as listeners realize it or not, and it’s going to be like this for a long time. He was that big and that inimitable, and it’ll be decades before we reach the bottom.

These types of old-to-new off-the-cuff bar challenges are always sensational and often revelatory. Well, until Montana of 300 comes along and ruins it, at least. If he’s hopping on a challenge, you already know that it’s busted. It’s all fun and games, though, until then, so let’s just hope that this kind of thing starts to happen more often, but without Montana feeling the need to chime in. 

Fingers crossed!

Talk your shit!

SLC Leakers Station

I am a twenty-six year old man—what business do I have scouring YouTube for screen recordings of the many, many Instagram Live streams from random rappers that I don’t even really enjoy in order to find a snippet that I might like? The answer: not much. And yet, I continue to do it anyway.

There’s something thrillingly addictive about finding a diamond in the rough. It’s like mining back in the mid-1800s. As the prospectors spent years and years digging through permafrost and sifting through mud for the mere chance of sniffing a nugget of gold, I am willing to spend hours and hours tabbing through forums and clicking unmarked links for the chance of hearing something semi-decent. It seldom, if ever, happens, but that’s not why I do it. Rather, the thrill is in the hunt itself. 

There is so much shit on YouTube that sifting through even a modicum of it all is nothing short of an ordeal. And, on top of that, it’s a quest that will seemingly never end, as there's a constant stream of musical barf being uploaded every single minute of every single day. It’s exhausting, but the mere exertion and potential of discovery is what drives me. Mining for snippets is a task that only a Sisyphean misanthrope with Herculean endurance could ever take on, but it’s worth it for the opportunity to separate the wheat from the proverbial chaff, so to speak. It’s a pastime fit only for a basement-dwelling RateYourMusic user. No hate—just facts.

Anyway, back to me. I love separating the tasty, ultra-listenable wheat from the fibrous, disgusting chaff that barely even qualifies as music. My obsession started with D Savage, then known as D Savage 2900 and previously as D Savage 3700, and the 2015 snippet of his song “I Know.” Really, it’s the perfect time capsule. Merely watching the snippet transports me back to early 2016, a time when I was just starting to refine my musical preferences. 

In the snippet, D Savage and a friend find themselves alone in a parking lot, and they take this opportunity to drop a few lines and blare some unreleased music. The star is, of course, “I Know,” a tight tune of effervescent ignorance with a blissfully blown-out instrumental. Or so it appeared.

Because the preview was played through a car’s speakers and filmed on an old iPhone—two levels of sonic decay—“I Know” sounded massive with its distortion and video degradation-induced low pass. Fans clamored for an official release, but it seemed like they’d never get it. Remarkably, the song was released nearly a year later, and teenagers were more than ready to tear shit up with this as their soundtrack. They quickly realized that they were a bit too eager, as the official version of “I Know” was much smaller and more contained than their beloved snippet for the above reasons. It’s still great, but it’s not the special, era-defining track that it was supposed to be.

And that’s the nature of snippets. They seldom live up to the hype (with the exception of “Million Dollar Baby,” of course, which has recently graduated into the real world and already venerated by Brooklynites and LESers—I’ve already had enough!), but that’s half the appeal. There’s always the hope that a snippet-turned-official release is good, and the anticipation makes the stakes that much higher. 

Currently, for me, I cannot unhook myself from the deliciously baited snippets from Pi’erre Bourne’s Made in Paris sessions. I don’t particularly love Pee as a rapper, but he does manage to captivate my attention from time to time. Ever heard “Drake and Chill”? It’s life-changing. Regardless, Pi’erre has a ludicrous amount of leaks and snippets. Some are very good, and some are very bad, and there’s little in between. Still, I sift through them from time to time, just to be sure nothing’s slipped past my radar. 

That said, the Made in Paris snippets are special. They all pretty fucking good, even great at times. It’s exactly the brand of Pi’erre that I enjoy. He’s smooth, sweet, and horny as all hell. It’s fun shit that’s easy on the brain. These bits are an aural salve to a guy like me. I hear so much crap that these snippets do for me what driving under a bridge during a rainstorm does for a nervous driver. I never thought that I’d say some stupid shit like this, but I’m finding peace in these snippets.

Made in Paris was rumored—often by The Man in Purple himself—to be released in March. Clearly that didn’t happen, and now I’m stuck re-watching hours-long Live recordings. It’s cool, though, because these morsels really are that good, especially “Wasting Time.”

Unfortunately, “Wasting Time” has been wiped off of YouTube (a common problem faced when attempting to uncover a beloved snippet—thank god for Instagram and SoundCloud, I guess!), but it was so damn good. I couldn’t believe my ears the first time that I heard it. Feast yours. PLEASE CLICK; I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE.

It’s lilting and unsteady, yet near-beautiful at the same time. Pee doused his oft-reused bassline with a wave of accordion-tinted synthesizers and turned the melody to eleven. It’s cute! Especially the healthy dose of self-mythologizing as he croons about a number of failed relationships, lamenting that these girls don’t realize that “[t]he grass ain’t greener on the other side / Girl, you know it’s purple at my place.” It’s as if he’s trying to convince his girl that his life is like no other and that she needs to see it before she can believe it. I think that’s lovely! 

Really, though, “Wasting Time” is a perfect snippet. It’s short, sweet, and says just enough to get people interested in the song. It’s as shameless as it is charming. That said, this shit needs to come out for the summertime. I need a song that I can infinitely loop and drive around aimlessly for a bit, and, if this song is released, it could easily fill that slot. 

That's the problem with snippets and leaks, though. They may never see the true light of day, no matter how bad we want them nor how long we searched. Sometimes, snippets are removed, a classic case of bad things happening to good people. Remember: tough times never last—only  tough people do. Stay strong, and just know that some things aren’t meant to be. 

Talk your shit!

Not Taking the Piss

It’s been rumored that British-Italian designer Jordan Luca’s eponymous shirting label is trying to span Britain’s Savile Row and the Italian tradition of fine tailoring, and he seems to be doing a fine job! 

That said, the young designer has done one thing that is truly despicable. Honestly, I don’t even want to write what he did. It’s that foul. I mean, my own mother reads this crap, and I fear that her reading such foul things will cause her to disown me. I’m a mama’s boy! This cannot happen to me.

And yet, I must expose the faux pas committed in the name of “subverting modern fashion.” If I am disowned, so be it. I’m risking my familial relationship in the name of espousing what is truly right and just (chorus: truly right and just). Here goes.

Jordan Luca thought it would be a good idea to take inspiration from Liam Neeson and craft a pair of denim trousers that have been treated in such a way that is completely stonewashed, save for the crotch-region, giving off the illusion that the person wearing the garment has soiled himself. Disgusting, no?

I mean, come on, Jordan! Who in their right mind wants to look as if they share incontinence with Neeson, a self-proclaimed former racist who dubiously announces that he has changed his ways? “Not I,” said the lowly, rube-ish writer. Not I. 

Talk your shit!

No Passion, All Technique

God damn it! I love being me. Who else is going to give you all this game for the free-free? Nobody! Who else is going to do it to the very best of their abilities? Again, nobody! God blessed me with a gift, and I need to thank somebody! So, with everything I have and everything I’ll ever have, I want to thank you for reading this shit. It means the world to me.

One of Them Nights by Sparkheem

As I said earlier, Sparkheem and Mannyvelli* pioneered the sound of free car music that’s coursing through the DMV right now, and they’ve parlayed that into mainstream success by working with Brent Faiyaz and the inescapable Tom R (or, to be clear, Tommy Richman). 

Despite their deplorable and fiscally responsible turn to the mainstream, Sparkheem and Manny show no signs of leaving their foundational genre in the dust. At the end of March, Spark dropped One of Them Nights, his most recent compilation tape, recruiting rappers from both the DMV and the rest of the Eastern Seaboard to accent his mechanical, funky sound. With vocal assists from local heroes like scene standout KP Skywalka, breakout-ready Paco Panama, Lil Xelly, HavinMotion, Lil Dude, and even Atlanta’s Tony Shhnow, he proves that free car can take over the country if driven to it.

I mean, I don’t think it’s possible for someone to hear a song like “Auntie Anne’s,” “Fold,” or “Y U Trippin” and not be hooked from the jump. But maybe that’s just me. Good. 

*They couldn’t have done it without Dolan Beats!

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We Don’t Miss by Papo2oo4 and Subjxct 5

The title says it all. As a rapper, Papo2oo4 does not miss. As a producer, Subjxct 5 does not miss. As a tandem, these two New Jersey legends do not miss! Apt project title, too. This song somehow reigns supreme in the pack, and it marks the return of Louis Brodinski. You already know that I’m in there like swimwear. Good tape. 

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“Scared Money” by Stalley featuring Kevin Durant

No offense to the Maybach Music legend Stalley, but if Kevin Durant weren’t on “Scared Money,” I wouldn’t know it even exists. The fact that KD is on the track doesn’t really make me want to listen to the song, either. Rather, I’d prefer to tune into his verse and move along. It’s mean, but it is true. And, based on the most replayed part of the video, most everyone is in agreement.

Kevin Durant has solid taste in rap—especially grown, nouveau boom-bap in the vein of Jim Jones’s entry to the Gangsta Grillz series, 38 Spesh, Benny the Butcher, and Sy Ari Da Kid—and has even produced a track for Dave East, but I never expected something like this. KD released a song with LeBron James back in 2018, but it was nothing more than ESPN fodder.

His collaboration with Stalley, though, is different. On the song, he carries himself like a rapper, flowing effortlessly over the Bam-produced instrumental. His flow is a little weird—slower than I expected—but he sounds good—confident, even. Unfortunately, Stalley, refusing to have his pants pulled down on his own song, decides to drown out Durant’s closing bars by very loudly and atonally moaning. I digress. In short, KD raps the way that he plays basketball. It’s solid as hell and subtly flashy. I wouldn’t seek him out, but I’d listen to a solo tape once or twice. Whatever.

That said, his desire to rap during the offseason does not bode well for any of his postseason dreams. Read this article that I wrote for On The Button to learn why a hooper-turned-rapper will never win a championship.

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“Numbers on the Board” by Missing Link featuring Gridiron

Celeb Shot! From Hardcore’s Historian, E. L. Sale: 

Check it—we're diving headfirst into the scorching hot collab between NYC's Missing Link and Boyertown-Philadelphia-Detroit-Grand Rapid's butt-hardcore supergroup Gridiron. These two have just unleashed a track that already has the beatdown sect buzzing. Strap in, my friends—Missing Link and Gridiron just dropped a bombshell.

Folks, “Numbers on the Board” is fight music in its purest form. Raw ass lyrics meet gritty, gut-wrenching breaks, mixed with the heaviest of riffs in a sonic onslaught that'll leave you seeking blood, beef, and time spent with enemies. Put simply, this track doesn't hold back. It's a hardcore aficionado's dream come true. Good.

Show the big guy some love!

“AGORA EU NÃO QUERO AGORA É TCHAU” by CAO$ NO BEAT

I’ll never not enjoy a Belo Horizonte funk track, and this is no exception! It might be for you, but it isn’t for me. Good.

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“Suffocate” by Knocked Loose featuring Poppy

“Listen to that reggaeton breakdown! Who else is doing it like this??” say the has-beens on the internet and in Middle America. To which I respond, “Nobody!” Not because I agree, but rather because I think it is disgusting. There’s nothing good about this song, from the Poppy feature and the questionable reggaeton-flavored breakdown to the SpongeBob-ass vocals and tacky buzzsaw guitars. This shit sucks, man, and I’m not afraid to stand up for myself. Not good. Bad video, too!

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“Say Dat Again” by Duwap Kaine

Duwap Kaine, Savannah’s most prolific rapper and producer, churns out songs at a clip that would put prime Lil B to shame. Since 2016, he has dropped 202 singles, four EPs, 28 mixtapes, and 13 albums. Insanity. They’re all good, too, so it should come as no surprise that his latest release, “Say Dat Again,” is also wonderful. Good.

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“#Richaxxhaitian” by Mach-Hommy and KAYTRANADA featuring 03 Greedo

You subhuman troglodytes might not realize it, but this shit is a little too easy on the ears…I don’t want to say much more than that out of fear of the DMCA Takedown request from Hommy, KAYTRANADA, and the always perfectly out-of-place 03 Greedo, but it’s good! Seeing Mach-Hommy’s progression from charging $100+ for high-end “art” tapes like Haitian Body Odor to this is…*wipes tears from eyes* nothing short of inspiring. Shout out to all the zombies, man. No one does it like them.

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“cold” by toughlovepunch

This Michigan-ified, Kanye-sampled-jacked flip is crazy—just crazy enough to have me agog. Well done, Punch. Good.

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“At Home” by Mexikodro

Rap producers get tired of making beats. By the time they pop, they’ve been making the same type beat for years and years, and, without fail, they inevitably decide to take their talents to the recording booth in search of true stardom. When this happens, it’s usually a travesty, but every now and then, it’s a revelation.

Mexikodro’s turn to the booth is nothing short of Christ-like. He takes his plugg sensibilities and freaks them 2000s-style, especially on “At Home” and “Overnight.” The latter is only 37 seconds long, but it’s one of my favorite songs in a long time, thanks to its snippet-like nature. As such, it doesn’t have a music video, so we must settle for “At Home.” Fine by me. Good.

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Poetic Demonstration Station

Of my non-journalistic influences, Frederick Seidel is damn near at the top. Yes, he’s kind of a piece of shit, but he has yet to do anything greviously wrong. He’s a product of his time, and though I will never condone his womanizing and assholery, his swagger, panache, and constant boundary skirting are undeniable, in my eyes at least.

Seidel was born in 1936 and is somehow still kicking. He’s a rich little guy from St. Louis who, after being encouraged and then promptly scorned by T.S. Eliot, decided to lay waste to the world of poetry by writing the exact opposite of what poetry was considered to be. He refuses to be humble, often name-dropping his preferred brand of luxury motorcycles (Ducati) and the exotic places that he’s visited in his free time. 

He doesn’t give a fuck, and, when driven to it, he can write the most foul, visceral verse imaginable, earning himself epithets like, “the most frightening American poet ever,” and, “the Darth Vader of contemporary poetry.” The latter is not very cool, but I see the vision. Truly, some of his writing is at once chilling and cringe-inducing. I mean, he’s a proudly Jewish man whose first collection is titled Final Solutions. He relishes in making people squirm. 

Regardless, Seidel’s writing is high-flying, unlike anything else, and seldom out of touch. This fool can turn a phrase like no one else. Between that and the propensity to name drop, Seidel has a heavy influence on me, even though he has written a sizable number of poems that I do not resonate with. Still, read some shit like “Rain in Hell” or “Pressed Duck,” and tell me that it isn’t an incredible display of give-no-fuckery.

I recently tapped into an old New York Times article called, “The Laureate of the Louche,” by Wyatt Mason, and it only made me appreciate Seidel more. He is a dirty old man, yes, but he’s also a master of form. He writes exactly the way that he wants to write and can envision an idea and execute it with neither flaw nor struggle nor compromise. And that’s more than most others—poets and writers alike—can say. 

Give it a read here. 

That is all. Un besito.

Endtroduction

Contrary to popular belief, we still out here doing this shit and living life in ways that most can’t even comprehend! 

Every time I drop a new stack, it’s the same old story, song, and dance. It’s always some variation of “I know it’s been a long time, but I’m back! This time really is different! I will be dropping some shit every week! And I will start showing up for you like I said I would last year. I’m going to take you to soccer practice! Help you with your math homework! Maybe even teach you how to twist up a tight, pearly jay!” Yeah, right! You know how this story ends. It’s never been true, and it’ll never be true. Sorry, spud.

That said, I am back, and I’ve decided to commit myself to the whole quality over quantity rigamarole. I’ve been honing my craft with On the Button—a group of fellows who do not play when it comes to cutty NBA and college basketball coverage—and *puts on LinkedIn voice* I am so thrilled to share a handful of these infallible and undeniable works of art with all of you today. 

Sink your teeth into this horrendously long series in which I compare every single fucking NBA team to some sort of musical act. It’s a good time. Watch me wax poetic with me about the unsurprising inability of the top one percent of professional basketball players to rap with any sort of panache. You might like it. I sure did. And, if you have the strength, join me as I brainstorm countless potential replacement names for the Utah Jazz. This one especially helped me spread my wings and soar to new heights, and I know that it’ll do the same for you.

*Takes of LinkedIn Voice*

Despite all of this, I’ve longed for something more. I love OTB, but I need to talk my shit sometimes! I can do both. In fact, I will do both, but I’m going to do it on my time. And I’m going to do it by doing something that I’ve been doing longer than anything else: me. 

When inspiration strikes, I always strike back. I know damn well that it’s going to be as beautiful as it is brutal, like an even-fought heavyweight boxing match. So yeah, No Oldtimers is back.

Not like it ever really left, though.

It was just resting. Recharging. Getting ready to go ballistic. Like a toddler taking a nap.

Don’t believe me, just watch. 

Blow me.

⬇️ Comment below ⬇️

Per usual, I am not very good at planning. The NINTH edition of No Oldtimers is indeed on the way, but something has come up. You already know that I’ve got some shit to say. Think of this as the quiet that comes before the storm. It might be unknown and scary, but it pales in comparison to what's to come. So sit down, shut up, and let me put you on game once again.

Sweet or Beat: Met Gala Threads

The premise of the Met Gala is the same as it once was: gather all of the biggest names in the kingdom, dress them in silly little outfits, and then parade them in front of the masses. It’s showy, it’s ostentatious, and it just plain doesn’t feel right! 

And yet, it is perfect. For the slovenly clod of earthly beings, there’s something exciting about the Met Gala. Anna Wintour comes up with some convoluted and cockamamey idea, and teams of designers and stylists scramble to craft the most insane outfits ever dreamt of for their designated celebrity muses. I guess it’s all in good, consumerist fun.

This year, Wintour decided that the Gala’s theme would be “Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion,” with all participants festooned within the constraints of “The Garden of Time” code of dress, whatever that fucking means. Before I saw any of the looks, I imagined that everyone would look like a spritely and boscaged version of a tree. Not an oak or an elm or a hickory, though. Rather, these professional dress-up dolls are like the quaking aspen: beautifully frail and with skin that can be readily peeled for kindling.

As ever, I am taking it upon myself to rate these celebrity fits using a binary scale. In 2022, I used the “Pump or Dump” method. It was glorious, and, try as I might, it will never be topped. In 2023’s failed edition, I wanted to use “Scud or Scrub,” but something ethereal and effervescent above me told me to put it on hold. I’m glad I did. That scale sucked, and it didn’t even make sense. In the Grammys 2K23 version, I employed the “Jacking or Whacking” method, which was good, but it wasn’t great.

I can do better. I will do better. I’m about to do better. This year, in honor of the return of No Oldtimers’s Met Gala coverage, I will decide whether each celebrity’s look is Sweet or Beat. I’m feeling this one! If I like the fit, I will announce to the void that it is sweet. If I find the fit abhorrent and utterly disgusting, I will deem it beat. Whether the outfit matches this year’s theme is moot because, as always, I’m having fun with this shit! And they should be, too.

If you disagree with my designation, that’s fine, but just know, I never duck smoke. If you come after me, you already know that I’m going to take it on the chin and then look you right in the eye. When I do, you better immediately rethink your actions because I’ll air this mf out on a moment’s notice. 

So, without further ado, let’s get in there and show everyone who the real fashionisto around these parts is.

Ben Simmons

Beat. Enough of this fucking guy. I hate him! He tricked the world into thinking he’s a hooper, and now he just plays video games and blows cash. Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad way to live…

Regardless of my respect for his new lifestyle, between the partially knit, mostly polyester rare-miss from Thom Browne and the timelord-ass briefcase, Benny just doesn’t look that cool.

Matter of fact, fuck this dude. His look isn’t even funny! I just know that he stepped out and thought to himself, “DAMN, I really did something this time.” Shuuuuuutttttt up, man. Fucking sweat. Leave the little outfits to the real dressers and re-learn how to shoot a damn basketball!

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Emma Chamberlain

Sweet. Emma Chamberlain has proclaimed that with every Met Gala she attends, she  grows more confident in her style. The hell does she mean! She doesn’t do anything other than wear the clothes! Her team, however, went crazy and proved that my assumptions about the “sleeping beauty” theme were correct. In this Jean Paul Gaultier dress and, per her hairstylist, a “loose bun,” Ms. Chamberlain looks like a woodland imp who just finished toying with an iron-clad knight. I am frightened by the end product, but, at the end of the day, it ain’t bad!

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Usher

Beat. This guy needs to go home and never make a public appearance again. What a fucking freak. This was supposed to be a fun, highbrow event, not a cosplay convention. Get a grip.

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Lil Nas X

Beat. He looks like a damn walking tablecloth.

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Jenny Freshwater

Beat. I mean, who IS this??? In all honesty, she really does look quite nice, like a mother at her daughter’s middle school dance recital. That said, this is the Met fucking Gala! It’s not about respecting yourself and looking nice; it’s about causing a scene and acting a fool. 

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*J Note: After a quick search, I’ve discovered that Jenny Freshwater is the head of AmAzoN FaSHiOn. I mean everything I said tenfold.

Leon Bridges

Beat. Unfortunately, I think Bridges’s invitation to the Met Gala was lost in the mail because I’m pretty sure that he dresses like this every day and was told that he was required to make last-minute appearance. 

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Ariana Grande

Beat. I’ve had it up to here with this waif. The moment she hopped on the cast of Broadway’s Wicked, where she immediately began dating literal SpongeBob SquarePants (both on the stage and off), she was bunk. She’s still bunk, if not even more so. And this look from Loewe is bunk, too. Theater kids, man. Hornier and less ashamed than ever.

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Hugh Jackman

Sweet. This guy and his team clearly didn’t care for the theme of the 2024 Met Gala whatsoever, and in a way, it did him a lot of favors. Hugh was able to enjoy the party and didn’t even have to debase himself in the process. Plus, he makes this recycled-from-previous-Galas Tom Ford tuxedo look real nice.

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Sebastian Stan

Beat. I said that I was sick of Ben Simmons. I lied. I’m sick of this fucking dude, man. He has a weird voice, bad swag, and just looks like he’s mean. The “bad boy” swag ain’t doing nothing for him. The loose fit makes him appear shrimpy, and the clothes just aren’t all that, even if they are Valentino. Plus, the shirt looks like it was purchased from the Walmart-acquired Justice, may it rest in peace. Enough is enough. 

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Demi Moore

Sweet. Damn! Is Demi really built like this?? I know the scrum sounded like a dog pound, but don’t be fooled: it’s just artificial saddlebags from Harris Reed. I don’t know how to feel about this one, but, rather than continue to be a hater, I’ll say that Moore’s frock is nuts. For real, though. It is insane. Moore’s gown is made out of wallpaper and took over ten thousand hours to craft. Surely Reed, the designer, had something better to do than this.

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Paloma Elsesser

Beat. The fact that H&M convinced a model of Paloma Elsesser’s prestige speaks volumes about the power of a dollar. Also, I find this whole look quite strange. Why would she rock with a mismatched metal half-cast of herself and such a bland, fitted sheet-like skirt? Very troubling.

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Andrew Bolton and Thom Browne

Sweet. IT’S ALMOST AS IF YOU UNGRATEFUL FUCKS FORGOT WHO THE KING OF THIS MENSWEAR SHIT IS. Quit playing with me. You already know who designed this crap. Nobody, and I mean nobody other than Thom Browne himself, does it like this.

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Emma Wall and Jeremy Strong

Sweet. It’ll never not be funny that Jeremy Strong is always invited to this thing. He never looks like he’s having fun, and he never looks like he wants to wear what he’s wearing. I respect that. That said, he and his wife look good in their Loro Piana and matching earrings, but I know that they’d look even better if they were dressed to the nines in HOMER, especially with the heinous Richard Mille watch that J-Dog is wearing. But that’s just me.

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Hannah Bagshawe and Eddie Redmayne

Beat. They say that marriage fuses two bodies into one, but this is questionable. Swaglessly questionable.

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Grace and Wendi Murdoch

Beat. Who the hell invited this disgraced daughter-mother combo! Too much garden party and not enough straight-up garden. Seriously, what the hell is the former wife of Rupert Murdoch doing here??

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Will Welch

Sweet. As much as I loathe this tasteless GQ motherfucker, he looks absolutely massive in a tuxedo from noted hard-clothes kingpin Evan Kinori! Dense. Girthy. Tall. Dirtball looking ass. Enormous. Love it. Need it. The chain is a nice touch, too. 

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Dua Lipa

Beat. I know she’s cute or whatever, but what in the hell is she wearing? A weird version of an old timey tuxedo bottom combined with a toilet seat? 

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Charli XCX

Beat. Marni or not, Charli bit the hell out of The Corpse Bride with this dress. Kidding! I’m no nerd. This crap rules. Sweet.

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Adrien Brody and Georgina Chapman

Beat. Adrien Brody is on the wrong side of 50, and he’s decided to dye his hair for the Met Gala? Weird. That said, I like how high his Margiela tuxedo creeps up on him. I’m torn, but I’ll stand my ground.

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Jeff Goldblum

Beat. Fuck this dude, too. He would outwardly display the fact that he has two pairs of glasses with him at all times. Go to hell.

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Ugbad Abdi

Sweet. A touch difficult to comprehend for a guy like me, though.

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Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez

Sweet. Excellent outfit interplay between these Proenza Schouler designers! McCollough, tight and disheveled, is the perfect foil to the starched and loose Hernandez, both presumably dressed in their own designs. Bravo, especially to Hernandez.

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Reverend Al Sharpton

Sweet. I must shake the hand of whoever invited the Good Reverend. This was an inspired decision.

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Chase Stokes and Kelsea Ballerini

LMFAO.

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Hamish Bowles

Sweet. Rocking the designer and intentionally looking like Yubaba from Spirited Away is crazy. Great choice in both tie and headwear as well.

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Lana del Rey

Sweet. GREAT boscage on this meta-referential Alexander McQueen dress! Strange choice of footwear (not pictured), but, because she fits the theme so well, I’ll let it slide.

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Ed Sheeran

Sweet. FORGET what I said about everyone else. They all look like shit. Eddie has the best fit, clearly inspired by The Wedding Singer. Bravo to Stella McCartney. This is incredible. Pack it up. We’re going home. Jesus.

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NOTS XI IS ON THE WAY——IT’LL ALL BE WORTH IT AT THE END

⬇️ Comment below ⬇️

Twitter people say it best sometimes.

You get the point, but still, here is, in essence, my years-long stance, said better and more poignantly than I ever could by LakeSkoDrive:

I thought I’d have to keep saying “Hold that [insert trash-ass artist] album; we want Veeze!” I was wrong. The Play-Snippets-On-Instagram Live maven from Detroit (otherwise known as Seven Mile Veeze) has proven that he’s more than just talk and dropped the long, long, long awaited follow-up to his debut tape Navy Wavy.

It’s called Ganger, and, to put it simply, it is silly. Not because it’s goofy or corny or buster-ish, or anything like that, but rather because Veeze raps his little size thirty ass off, practically running circles around listeners for the entirety of Ganger’s sixty-minute runtime. The way Veeze takes control makes this the type of shit that’ll insert you directly into your respective bag. You can drop 2020’s “Law N Order” or 2022’s “Let It Fly” at any moment in time, and anyone within earshot will be operating outside of themselves (in the most perfectly outrageous way possible).  With this tape, it’s no different, as the pint-sized sipper casts spells in real time, making his wildest dreams a reality. It's a beautiful thing to witness. Listening to Ganger is like watching a high school baller demolish a five-player set of eight-year-olds with merciless abandon—it’s exciting, jaw-dropping, surprising, and, above all, downright disrespectful to all these other “rappers.”

Just listen to the cacophonous and unbridled “Not a Drill.” Veeze starts rapping before the 0:01 second mark, before the beat can even show what it’s made of, and from this moment until the end of tape sealer “Tony Hawk,” it’s game time. Producers Pat Switch and BeatsByTaz utilize horn-driven tumult to toss lobs for the Detroit rapper, making sure that he yams every single one home. He’s on his “say random flex” type shit, which I normally don’t care for, but he makes it sound fucking awesome. Any other rapper would say a line like “I damn near got hеad from every bad bitch in the city, keep that,” and I’d think it’s pedestrian and normal. When Veeze says it, though, he raps like it is pedestrian and normal for him. He never offers even a modicum of excitement or vulnerability, just slurred composure. And that’s cool. 

Every Ganger song is like this. It’s incredible. Like everyone says, Veeze raps like he’s sick of it all, even as he makes the wildest, most gauche claims. It’s what makes Veeze special. On top of everything, it feels like the tracks are hardly sequenced, though it wouldn’t change a thing if they were. Veeze just does not care, and he’s that much wilder for it. He runs purely on the energy of his own swagger, and as far as the swagger goes, the swagger goes far, handily slingshotting himself above the clod.

And, as always with Veeze, it’s “fuck a feature.” Out of twenty one tracks, there are only five features, two of which are on the same song, and one on a remix. These days, that’s unheard of, but this is Veeze we’re talking about. Out of everyone, he’s the one to (mostly) go it alone. That said, the features do not disappoint. Mentors Babyface Ray and Icewear Vezzo rap like they drew the blueprint for the modern Detroit sound on “7sixers”—they did—and Lucki and Lil Yachty provide a welcome contrast to Veeze’s signature mouth-full-of-food rasps on their respective tracks (“Phone broke” and “Boat interlude”).  

I’m realizing that I lied when I said the features don’t disappoint. My apologies; there is one major stinker. I hate to say it, but Lil Uzi Vert has NO business coming near a remix of “GOMD.” For whatever reason, rap superstars (other than Kodak) cannot ride Detroit beats. In the past, they ate Future, Jack Harlow, and Pusha T alive. Now, they’ve got Uzi, too. 

One thing is apparent, however: Veeze really cares about his beats. Every single one is bonkers. Like it’s regular, he steezily swings from classic, Detroit-style shit (namely “SEXY liar” and “7sixers”) to chintzy New Atlanta fare (“Broke phone”) and whatever the fuck kind of music “Weekend” and “Safe 2” are. I mean, come on, the lineup of producers is insane. To have a range from greats like Rocaine, Come on P, and Pooh Beatz to newbies like Tye Beats and the incredible tandem of Ddotfreezing and 614ASE is truly something. Clearly, Ganger is stacked from front to back.

An album like Ganger is insanely difficult to write about. It’s almost futile. Shit like this is made to be experienced and lived in, not summarized by some joke-ass writer, but still, I do as I must. Like I just said, the beats are outstanding, but, despite that there are only, like, three hooks on the entire album, it is wholly thronged with quotables, stank face-inducing bars, and even a few moments of humanity. In fact, it’d be easier for me to compile a number list of all of Ganger’s incredible moments. Even then, it’d easily be over five hundred items long. Truly, it’s a Sisyphean task.

That said, I will try to pin down the five absolute highlight tracks and the things that make them great. It shan’t be easy, and my list will probably have changed by the time you read this. Regardless, we roll:

• “Boat interlude” featuring Lil Yachty

  • FREAK FACTORS:  Veeze’s mind-numbing decision to pitch down his and Yachty’s vocals (were they rapping so fast that their vocals outran the beat? Is it simply because it makes it sound so effortless?); “My momma think she made me great / I think it’s the drugs” is too fucking tough; ”My money different color, rainbow, I think that it’s sus”—and this just one of countless cackling one-liners.

• “Weekend”

  • FREAK FACTORS: INSANE beat from G-Lok; the absolute bar-fest that is the second verse; Veeze self-owning by rapping, “Rich off the mumble rap (‘Veeze speak up!)”

•  “GOMD”

  • FREAK FACTORS: Released back in April, this was the single that proved Ganger was on its way. The one-off singles from 2022 were simply to get listeners ready; Truly, what the fuck got into Tye Beats when he made this beat??; I’ll say it again—Veeze just sounds cool. What more can I say? He’s out here running laps!

•  “No Sir Ski”

  • FREAK FACTORS: To keep it a buck fifty, this was my least favorite track when I heard. Veeze leans hard into his raspiness and tendency to maffle his words, but now that I listen again, I have been proven wrong. This song rules; Veeze is operating at his scariest while completely dismantling GLA's well-crafted instrumental; the way he butchers Luca Doncic’s name deserves to be studied by a cabinet of the universe’s foremost speech pathologists.

•  “Robert De Niro”

  • FREAK FACTORS: It actually lived up to the hype established by the snippets, and that deserves to be celebrated; the deliriously fun chorus; imagining Veeze’s little baby face on the hundred dollar bill as he raps, “I ain’t in the mood today, I’m blue, I’m a C Note” is too funny; calling 42 Dugg his hero for pulling up with an uncracked pint is incredible; This inexplicable sequence: “She tellin’ her friends that we fucked, but they never seen me, they startin’ to think it’s a myth (Think they lyin’)” → “She wanna fuck when her kid goes to sleep, I think she a MILF (What?)”; the bar in which Veeze realized that he was still human—”I need to cut back on mud, I started seein' the drank when I'm takin' a piss (Ugh) / I need to stop all the drugs, I'm treatin' the bitches I love like pieces of shit.”

•  I just can’t quit! I need one more: “You know i”

  • FREAK FACTORS: Why would producers MitchGoneMad, WessGoneMad, and BADMON choose to flip a sample of “Thuggish Ruggish Bone”??? A better question to ask is, why wouldn’t they? Sensational.

Maaaaan, fuck. 

Every single song is incredible for its own special reason. Ganger really proves that Veeze is at his creative precipice, not unlike prime Lil Wayne. The drugs are hitting just right, creative juices are being feverishly excreted from Veeze’s glands, and Veeze can do no wrong. If he went full 2006 to 2009 Wayne mode and released a million mixtapes and another album in the next few years, each one would be monumental. That’s just how Veeze is right now. The only thing that can get in his way is himself. Hopefully, he can safely maintain whatever it is that allows him to rap like this and ride sleepily into the sunset. 

To close the perfect circle that is this lovely review of Veeze’s masterpiece, here’s a quote from a great modern culture theorist:

Thank you for reading, and go with god.

Talk your shit!

The Smokers Club’s newest member?

Drake is, infamously, embarrassingly, and unshockingly, terrible at smoking weed (not unlike yours truly). But that won’t stop him from talking about it. 

In an effort to drum up some hype for his much-delayed joint tour with 21 Savage on Instagram Live, Drake put on a brave face and hangdoggedly admitted to having done so just moments before his audition for Degrassi! Scandalous!

Read Drake’s very words, ripped directly from his Live, for yourself below:

Someone asked me the other night what my biggest fear is, and I’ve never really had a good answer for it, but my answer was that all this is for nothing. Kind of the idea that, like, one day, life ends and it just all goes black. And I guess that question, like, sent me, you know, obviously deep into a spiral of thought. And it makes me think about my life and how surreal it feels at times. I go back to this day when I was like 13 or 14. I had an audition for a TV show that ultimately shaped my life, and before my audition, I went to this kid’s house. And I, out of, I guess, a desire to be accepted, I would succumb to peer pressure, and I got high with these kids right before my audition. I kind of wonder, like, if something bad happened that day or, you know, maybe I’m still high, maybe I’m in some coma. And this is just, like, me playing out my ideal life. And yeah, that concept has stuck with me for a lot of years. I mean, it feels like reality, it feels tangible. But I definitely wonder sometimes.

I have this to say to Drake—welcome to the real world. You don’t have to be ashamed about smoking weed before auditioning for Degrassi. You were but a young man. No need for retrospection. In fact, you’ve joined an elite club of those who blow down trees before they go to work, one that includes esteemed individuals such as Angus Cloud of Euphoria fame (your very own show!), disgraced NFLer (and former car salesman) Josh Gordon, old crow Willie Nelson, every rapper other than Vince Staples and Tyler, the Creator, and literally every single employee since the inception of capitalism. 

Talk your shit!

No Passion, All Technique

The “Talk your shit” button has returned! Rejoice and be glad, for this is the Kingdom of Jim. All is right with the world, and I’ve got to put you all on game.

In case you forgot how it all works, here’s the skinny: if I like an album/mixtape/project/song/whatever, I’ll give it a good, and if I don’t like it, I’ll give it a not good. If that doesn’t work for you, I’m sorry, but if you ever think I will stop going in, just ask the homies. I’ll always keep it thurl in a way that only I can. 

Rock with me.

Big Heart small world by WTM Scoob

Is Scoob back in Wrld Tour Mafia, or did all the DSPs make a mistake? I don’t care. With the release of Big Heart small world, he proves that he really is back and ready to prove that he’s the second best rapper from the WTM lineage (Not an insult!) Good.

Talk your shit!

Gush by 9million

The Homie Shit Mag-affiliated, Toronto-based supergroup 9million can do no wrong, and they’ve done no wrong once again with the release of Gush, the follow-up to 2022’s mesmerizingly beautiful Between Us. It’s six tracks in length! But two are covers. But they’re covers of The Jesus and Mary Chain (“Sometimes Always”)! And Sky Ferreira (“Everything is Embarrassing”)! Good.

Talk your shit!

Victory Music by RealYungPhil, Gud, Woesum, and Yung Sherman

Anytime the Swedes choose to link up with an American, it generally results in greatness. (Looking at you, Halsey.) Victory Music, RealYungPhil’s collaborative effort with Gud, Woesum, and Yung Sherman, is greatness. Listen to “Winners Circle” and tell me I’m wrong. I’ll wait. Good.

Talk your shit!

“The Hillbillies” by Kendrick Lamar and Baby Keem

As the saying goes, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. In other words, the whole family shtick from Kenny and Keem has gone on too long. We don’t care. How about we focus less on family and being annoying, and more on ackshully rapping well as a tandem?  Not good. Great beat and video, though (respective shouts to Evilgiane and Neal Farmer). 

Talk your shit!

“Troops” by OsamaSon

This New Atlanta shit is nutty! And even though he’s from South Carolina, OsamaSon is leading the way on the strength of “CTS-V” and this very song, “Troops.” Absolutely gorgeous. Good.

Talk your shit!

“Penance Unending” by World Peace

Remember the “Seven Seconds or Less” Run & Gun Phoenix Suns? For the subhumans that don’t, look it up. World Peace, a trio of bass guitar, bass guitar, and drums, is the powerviolence version of that. With every song, there’s an equal chance that they’ll either score or they miss; what matters is that they never stop shooting. Luckily for World Peace, they shoot a lot, and they never miss. “Penance Unending” is no exception. Perplexingly, the track is only nineteen seconds long, and they still made a video for it. I love that. Good.

Talk your shit!

Discombobulation Station

Speaking of Drake, he was just in Detroit for his It’s All a Blur tour. Naturally, he needed to post something to his story. For some reason, he was compelled to put this up:

That’s right—he was in Detroit, the city of beautiful angels, and he chose to kick it with…NHL legends Chris Chelios and Tie Domi? Some questions are better left unanswered.

Talk your shit!

⬇️ Comment below ⬇️

Allow me to take on the form of a mossed individual for a moment and wax lifted, blown, and English-degree’d.

To both evoke, jack, and bastardize Shakespeare: What is in a name? (Full disclosure: I did not initially know that this was a quote from the bard himself—shame on me.) It is a complex dance of decisions between what we call ourselves and what others call us. Take me for example.  Whether it’s as the little brother (Jimmy), the homie (Jim), the HBIC (Mr. Wilson), or the voice of reason and all things good (Mr. Say That Shit with Impunity and Finesse), what others call me determines how they view me, and it holds a lot of weight, especially in the public sphere.

Which brings us to our objective: Sideshows.

As a word, a “sideshow” is not the cream of the crop—it’s the captivating-enough yet instantly forgettable accompaniment to the main event. These freaks are, of course, crucial to any function—they get the people excited. Sideshows include, but are not limited to, opening bands/artists at concerts, auxiliary homies, your friend’s pet, undercard fights, and actual circus sideshows (like the fire-breathers or that mf who sleeps on the bed of nails). We enjoy them, but they aren’t an essential part of our lives.

All this said, as a rapper, Washington D.C.’s Sideshow is the main event. At only 25 years old, he has a low-key yet commanding style that burrows directly into your brain the instant his music hits your eardrums; he rarely relies on guest features to lighten his artistic load; and he’s just dropped his fifth full length release.  In layman’s terms, Sideshow is calm, cool, and does it all by himself. He deftly combines his back alley aptitude with an increasingly dexterous pen in a way that few non-90s rappers can. 

On top of everything, though, is his ability to take left turns like they’re the norm by doing exactly what he wants, like when he dropped a South Florida-style fast track (“Sneeky Steps”). Or when he laid it uniquely down over a Michigan beat from none other than BeatsBySav (“Salt Kills Snails”). Or (and most frequently) when he lost consciousness and spat an entire credo in a simple 16 (“King of Different Things”). I could go on, but suffice to say, Sideshow can be a true blue, dyed-in-the-wool spectacle, and he has all the tools necessary to surpass his chosen moniker and take on the big show.

And if all of that doesn’t sway you, look no further than “TV Dinners.” Underground overlord The Alchemist pairs Sideshow with Detroit’s legend-in-the-making Boldy James (i.e. the stoic archetype for Sideshow’s lane of music), and Sideshow takes charge, efficiently certifying his ability and swagger. The Alchemist gifted him the lead-off spot, and he did his thing, handily setting the tone, forcing Boldy to spit his finest. Sideshow confidently displays everything that makes him unique, blending succinct tough talk with insular reflection and sprinkling it all with a touch of Ethiopian vernacular, leaving behind a mark that only he could stamp. 

At times, though, Sideshow can be a bit too chill and lose his command over listeners. And when he has have features, their big names (MIKE, MAVI, and sighs Na-kel Smith) tend to overshadow his slightly smaller one. Still, Sideshow always manages to be the most assured rapper on the track, even if he doesn’t have the biggest presence. His shit is good, and he knows it. He has no need for one-upmanship. Most damning, though, is that this mf is tough to find! Inquiring minds must be ultra-specific with their search terms in order to track this fool down.

Anyway, that’s all a long-winded, headass way to set up a totally-not-trite query: can Sideshow transcend his name’s connotation and take shit over with his brand-spanking-new album, DON’T JUST STAND THERE? 

As stated, DON’T JUST STAND THERE is Sideshow’s fifth full-length effort, and it was dropped on Tuesday, February 21. When a budding artist releases a project in the middle of the week, the product isn’t quite mainstream enough to run with the big dogs that drop on Fridays, but it’s still probably a heater. The album’s singles, masterful and painstaking, surely suggested that. “NOWHERE 2 HIDE” and “S.H.O.W. ENT” are both bite-sized tracks that perfectly capture Sideshow’s soulful, creative control and rhythm of life. They’re warm and familiar, full of opaque, polychromatic couplets like, “What you want to know? / I can’t do interviews, just listen to my songs,” and true-to-himself non-sequiturs like, “When skinny touch down, we gon’ leave the club flooded / Like these gray clouds above us, make sure you smile when you suffer / Only thing ‘round here stutterin’ is the big nine I’m clutchin’.” If anything, the singles are more of Sideshow’s typical fare—pleasant and real, albeit a skosh mossed. It’s never a bad thing, but Sideshow needs to let his freak flag fly.

At his best, Sideshow zags just when you expect him to zig, and based on the course set by the advance singles, DON’T JUST STAND THERE is nothing but zags. From the jump, “2UNCHI MUSIC “ and “JIH LIKE MORANT” shake the dust off Sideshow’s typical production and add gentle synth blasts that perfectly accompany his tight-lipped revelations, instantly proving that he’s through with fucking around. 

“WHITE FANS” provides more of the same sonically, but Sideshow decides to completely freak it and employ a meandering, cyclical flow that charms listeners into his world based on a titular extended double entendre. Most notable about this track, though, is Sideshow’s self-awareness. Early in the song, he raps, “I know n***** like me don’t shine too often (A GOTDAMN SHAME) / So imma shine as much as I can.” In this moment, Sideshow, realizing that he has finally captured what so many men like him want, is going to prove that he’s not some run-of-the-mill undercard rapper. He has seized his opportunity, and he’s going to cement himself in the scene and confirm that he’s the real deal

Most surprisingly, though, is “LOCKED DOORS.” It slots in at the three-hole and promises a hit from the go. As soon as the producer tag drops, courtesy of the ascendant Popstar Benny, it’s obvious that this track is different. Benny (who just dropped his excellent University! earlier this year) is most known for his chameleonic plugg/“weird” Atlanta-style beats and his cutesy tag drops, but he’s taken a darker turn as of late. As a result, his new style speaks directly to the spirit of Sideshow, and the result is an odd-couple match made in a rap heaven. Sideshow brings his best as well, clearly in his bag as he raps, “Racecar, R-T-R P-O-P, ooh-wee / Who that n**** rappin’ on the beat from Popstar Benny? Who? Me.” What makes these lines noteworthy is the confidence in Sideshow’s raps, as if you’re a fool if you thought he wouldn’t link with Benny and drop a heater. Forget about the rest of this review; in this one song alone, Sideshow proves his headliner-worthiness.

Even when Sideshow isn’t actively rapping, DON’T JUST STAND THERE remains massively entertaining. At the ends of his songs, he occasionally chooses to let the instrumental breathe, giving his producers Alexander Spit, AYOCHILLMAN, SEXAFTERCHURCH, Omari Lyseight, and Benny their due. The interludes and track intros/outros add to the bright yet brooding atmosphere. At times, they are even hilarious, especially “TT,” in which an associate discusses a woman’s figure in sophomoric detail. 

The only time the album feels sluggish is the stretch from “2MM” into “THICK LIQ.” To nit-pick a little, the back-to-back tracks are together too long, straying from the brevity of the rest of the album. “2MM,” which features the blunted GOOD Music product Valee as Sideshow’s hype man, is nearly three minutes, an eternity when every other song barely hits two. “THICK LIQ” drags out the sluggish vibe even longer as it plugs along at a snail’s pace. If Valee had a true verse to break things up, this all would be different. Again, this is a minor gripe, as Sideshow still does his thing, and he quickly makes up for his misgivings with the closing run from “SHELL IN A GHOST” to ender “CHEZ FRANCIS.”

At the end of the day, a name really is just a name, and Sideshow isn’t actually held in low regard because of his. It’s a great rap moniker, and it’s clearly tongue in cheek. Sideshow already has a lasting legacy, and he’s only just getting started. But, for the sake of my hard work and ego, I’ll say this—in my heart, DON’T JUST STAND THERE proves he’s finally outgrown his chosen title. Sideshow may not be out of the woods entirely, but he’s definitely made it from the thick to the thin. With a couple of supporting tours (and maybe a headlining one to be safe), another album, and a few more show-stopping guest spots under his belt, Sideshow will make it, and his name will be mentioned amongst the MAVIs, the Pink Siifus, the Maxos, and the MIKE of the rap world. Trust.

No Passion, All Technique

Rest in to peace to the “Talk your shit!” buttons. That shit ruled. Maybe I’ll to resurrect it. Maybe not.

A Worldwide Clique by Clique

I’ve said it a hundred times, and I’ll say it a million more if need be: Clique is the best band making music. In any scene. They have the best (and not to mention the driest) drums, the best guitars, the best bass, the best vocals, the best lyrics, the best merch, and the best ambiance. The band as a whole is fucking pissed, and they destroyed the entire scene with just two tracks. That takes talent. Good.

“Dj” and “Old Place” by Jim Legxacy

A kid that makes music that’s been described as a combination of hyperpop, Midwest emo, garage, and UK drill goes by the name of “JIM.” That’s tough living. I respect it. These songs are hard! Though they do take a couple of listens to get the hang of, both are good.

Maxo’s On the Radar Freestyle

Some piece of shit subhuman troglodyte on Reddit said that Maxo made them uncomfortable. Go to hell if this shit isn’t for you! Maxo’s speaking from the deep within. A man cannot control hismelf when he’s in that state. This is music for the truest. Good. Not to mention, his album Even God Has A Sense Of Humor is incredible. Tap in.

“Silver Lining” by Jesus Piece

This shit makes me want to curl up on a bed of nails, pour myself a concrete comforter, and just cry. So sweet, so perfect, so good.

“Apple Story” by Teejayx6

Teejayx6 is…back? Remains to be seen, but “Apple Story,” a tale of boosting iPads and MacBooks, covering Backwoods stench with cologne, playing the part, flirting with cashiers, and having “nervous stomach feelings,” is a step in the right direction. Fuck, who am I kidding–this is terrible. It’s funny as hell, but it sucks. Not so good, but worth a listen.

“Wasted” by Diplo featuring Kodak Black and Koe Wetzel

There is a rich history of rap songs titled “Wasted.” It started with Gucci Mane and Plies, continued with tracks from Juice WRLD, Coi Leray, and Don Toliver, and now has made another stop at Diplo’s “Wasted,” featuring none other than Kodak Black and Koe Wetzel, a truly illogical pairing. Is this “Wasted” any good? No. Have I been listening to this song daily since I first watched its music video a month ago? Yes, but that’s beside the point. It’s not very good, though it is addictive. Besides, it proves that Florida-product Diplo really is about that southern living!

“New Money” by OT7 Quanny and GT

This song crawls by like a crippled slug, and I wish they dropped the tempo even lower. Quanny and GT are at their best when they move at a glacial pace, and they let it fly (slowly) on “New Money.” Good.

“GS1” by CONNIE and Zelooperz

Out of control shit that’s perfectly managed by rapper Zelooperz and producer CONNIE—that’s that shit I like. I’m in. Good.

“Fly to You” by Caroline Polachek featuring Grimes and Dido

I have a secret, and it’s dark. Like, really, really dark. No trace of light particles dark… I like Caroline Polachek. You’re probably sitting at your miserable job, thinking, “But Jim! How is that in your nature?” It just is, I’m sorry to say. Polachek’s late, corn-free work with Chairlift was transcendent, and my seventeen-year-old brain knew it. Her older output is cool enough, but her new album, Desire, I Want to Turn Into You, really is something. The crown jewel is, of course, the girl-power ballad “Fly to You,” which spans three generations of alt-pop icons, most prominently Dido. This is required listening. Good.

The 65th Annual Grammy Awards came and went on the fifth of February, and nobody even noticed. Well, they might have, but there was nothing noteworthy enough for me to make a timely write-up at least. I guess that tells you all that you need to know! Let’s be bad, though, and take a look at what went down and then decide what we’re jacking or whacking. As a treat! You all are smart, young, and educated, so I shouldn’t have to tell you what each means.

Madonna finally unveils a new…face?

Michigan LEGEND Madonna has not dropped anything major since 2019’s Madame X, but this broad has staying power and she knows how to wield it! Whether it’s for dropping an epic kiss on Drake at Coachella in 2015, sporting a bedazzled eye patch to promote the aforementioned album, her son Rocco’s antics, or her most recent boytoy, Madonna is constantly hitting the news cycle. This Grammys season was no different, though she doesn’t seem exactly thrilled about it.

Madonna is, unfortunately for everyone involved, catching some serious heat for her “apparently” concerning new countenance. The renowned (and reviled) New York Post has described it as both “an eyesore and a complete betrayal,” and I literally can’t believe it. After years and years of plastic surgery and other foolery from Madonna, this is what makes the people talk? Shame on them. To show support, I’m jacking the new face and whacking the haters. Thank me later, Madge.

Not this guy again…

Trevor Noah hosted the 65th Annual Grammy Awards again. He has hosted seemingly every Grammy Award show since at least 2012. I very well could be wrong about that, but this fool is omnipresent. Regardless, here’s a message for Mr. Noah, written from the heart: it’s time to let someone else emcee, presenting-hog!

It just makes my blood boil! Whacking. Anyway, 

Turnstile turns up empty-handed

We are absolutely jacking this! 

Turnstile was nominated for Best Rock Song (huh?), Best Rock Performance (huh??), and Best Metal Performance (HUH???), and they probably should’ve won at least one of these. As a long, long, loooong time (and for now, former) fan, I wish them all the success in the world, but do I really want them to be Grammy winners? Honestly, a little, teeny, tiny bit. It would be awesome for a band with hardcore-rooted DNA to win a Grammy. Though most of me wants them to cool it on the crossover attempt. Stick to the soft hardcore music and continue to take over the world. There’s no need to pull a Blink-182 heel turn. 

Regardless, the band doesn’t need a Grammy. In fact, their loss gives me a modicum of hope that they might drop some wildcat, mad dog shit like Step to Rhythm again. They (probably) won’t, but a boy can dream. 

This is all Blood Orange’s fault.

While we’re here, peep this video that features some of the homies absolutely humbling themselves at the Turnstile show in Salt Lake City back in late October.* I truly wish I were there, but ultimately I’m glad I wasn’t. Mark my words—these videos will be the downfall of Turnstile.

 *Jump to 3:53 to observe the homies in their element.

The Harry Styles Hate Parade

Harry Styles is damn near as big as they come. In fact, I hear that he and SIR Elton John even share a tailor! That’s great! But Mr. Styles has long been a certified lame in my mind, and now his time of reckoning has come. Jacking it. 

Everything about his Grammys appearances has come under fire, from his abhorrent playsuit and his despicable tattoos (see the one under his pecs) to his boring music and his wack-ass performance. This isn’t just the fall-off we wanted; it’s the one we deserve. This man needs to learn from Zayn and alienate his fanbase, get out of the spotlight, and just lay low for a while. It’ll do wonders.

The Sartorial Jacks and Whacks of the Red Carpet

Machine Gun Kelly’s Coke Nail

Great continuity in the hers-and-his nails. Too bad the bond of the matching nails was not enough. Regardless, jacking.

Angela Simmons: The Headlights to Yo Gotti’s Deer

This is the first time I’ve ever seen the fruit of the labor of “Down in the DM,” and Yo Gotti is looking shocked. Congratulations, Yo! But you still suck. Whacking.

The Bedazzled Glitz and Glam of Moneybagg Yo

In the words of Father John Misty, “Disappointing diamonds are the rarest of them all.” Jacking.

Throwback Fashion Corner

Nelly is looking very swag era in a velvet vest and matching shirt and pants. Whacking.

Fat Joe Puts that Shit On…

…for the pear-shaped men of the world! He’s giving Questlove a run for his money with this one. Regardless, whacking.

Tales from the Crypt Part I

Smokey Robinson and Frances Gladney are hanging on by a thread, and god damn it, they look great doing it! Jacking.

Tales from the Crypt Part II

Amber Rose in 2023? Happy to see she has stuck around! Anyway, Whacking.

Children of the Corn

Who the hell are Domi and JD Beck???? No friends of mine, that’s for certain. Whacking. 

Rapid-fire Whackings

If I dwell much longer on the Grammys, I might become ill. So, I will now hit a rapid-fire whack off.

• The “50 Years of Hip-Hop” celebration did not include Lil Yachty, Krispylife Kid, RMC Mike, Babyface Ray, Rio Da Yung OG, DC2Trill, and Icewear Vezzo’s foul-mouthed, Carlo-produced big boy, tiny puffer anthem “Royal Rumble''—shame on them.

• “About Damn Time” was only released in 2022??

• The verbal gymnastics involved in distinguishing Song of the Year and Record of the Year

• Beyonce’s nomination for Best Dance/Electronic album

• The weak beef between Chris Brown and Robert Glasper

• “The Heart Part 5” by Kendrick Lamar winning Best Rap Song and Best Rap Performance over DJ Khaled’s instant classic, “God Did.” 

• Lin-Manuel Miranda’s presence…

WHEW—I’m out.