The Rap-Up: Like David Lynch
Busta Rhymes honors J Dilla and Bernadette Price honors her late husband. We also consider mononyms and Twin Peaks phonk.
Busta Rhymes & J Dilla, “Spazzz”
James Yancey spent much of his grievously short career working with gliders and groovers. His electromagnetic grayscale felt natural below the weightlessness of Q-Tip, Badu, and Baatin. But the Delicious days wouldn’t last forever, because Dilla waged holy war against stillness. The Stones Throw work threw punch-drunk drums at manic synths, as sampling turned into some kind of summoning. He no longer needed the aliens. He needed The Dragon.
The partnership started in 1996 but found its turbo engine on the other side of a new millennium. The first posthumous Dilla album begins with Busta growling at us to “evacuate the fuckin’ premises,” before the beat drop imagines what a shermed-out hornet would feel like. Who else to find Jay Dee’s hidden spaces and animate the quantum realm? Who else to juggle swords between Bus a Bus’ fire breathing? The rapper said that Dilla entrusted him with more than 300 beats before his death in 2006. At least three of them have been put to use here.
“Spazzz” serves as the official announcement for Dillagence 2, due later this month. The original Dillagence from almost two decades ago was hosted on Mick Boogie’s website and mostly boosted by forum crate-diggers. This sequel gets more of a formal push from The Conglomerate and a budget from Empire. It should be well worth our interest if this single is any indication.
Most beat switches feel wholly unearned these days. As usual, the binary stars of cheapness feel responsible for what’s become either a theme park corkscrew or a reverse-engineered social media moment. But “Spazzz” is how it’s done right, as textures of restlessness and modes of storytelling. The time signature changes challenge the rapper without pandering to the audience. Together, we go from dusty stilt walks to neon torpedo blast to hurdles in a cavern.
The flow is lurching and unpredictable as always. In a meaningful rejection of modernity, both CC Sabathia and Ochocinco are mentioned in the opening verse. Busta Rhymes snarling through the phrase “gas guzzler” is everything we thought it would be. Somewhere, the Dillatron glows in polyrhythm. Dillagence 2 is out on Aug. 25.
Bernadette Price, “Trust in God” f/ Terror Van Poo
The children of late rap stars take on such unique responsibilities when they choose to rap themselves. Both Young Dirty Bastard and Chris Rivers look and sound like their famous fathers—Rivers has spoken on the anxieties that come with it. Artist and WNBA player Flau’jae Johnson, daughter of the slain Camoflauge, was once taunted with her dad’s music after a loss. Fan bases can be aggressively parasocial, with little or no regard for surviving family. Nostalgia creates unreasonable demands and unfulfilled expectations.
Bernadette Price is a new wrinkle to that strange pride and mournfulness. She’s the widow of Sean Price, the god-tier emcee that passed in 2015. She now assumes the legacy of her husband’s life at large, plus his trademarks as a performer—the slow, suede combat delivery, the blackberry brandy and cheese Timbs. Bernadette twists up the Brownsville brusqueness in her own style, which includes grenades in her purse. “Pop pellets in your little ass, weak ass chest,” she deadpans in a Decepticonz jersey. Terror Van Poo is a capable rapper with a less-than-good rap name. The bottle-clanking “Trust in God” is produced by Stu Bangas and fittingly put out through Duck Down Music. A full-length called Kissing the Ground for Sinners out now.
Alyssa, “Humpty Dumpty”
While no one gets to be just Roxanne, a good mononym goes a long way for women in rap. Eve became a First Lady with nary a “Mrs.” involved. Shawnna showed up and instantly shared a stage with Mariah Carey. It’s nice work if you can get it, and Alyssa can get it. It doesn’t matter that Latto’s first name is Alyssa. Nor does it matter that Alyssa Milano had bars on the Who’s the Boss? mixtape that we just made up. This is the one and true Alyssa now.
Miami’s cloud-surfing princess burns bridges and turns tables on “Humpty Dumpty.” The vocal stacks slush together for a lean hook, but she toggles her bag between double-time and stutter step to build out two likable verses. Beatsbynyce lays a warm overcast sky for her to cruise. “My patience is low, it’s scraping the floor” is undeniable. Are eggs still historically expensive right now? Throwing a carton at the camera is a flex either way.
Eddy Baker, “DavidLynch” f/ BONES
A snippet with staying power, in which the former Raider Klan bannerman says that he’s “shooting shit like David Lynch.” Well, hold on there. Do his weapons pop out shrunken elder couples that make opps go insane? Is this what the second half of Eraserhead is about? Wouldn’t Ben Horne absolutely float on some 808 phonk? The BONES hook wraps around Lyson’s restrained piano roll, and the whole thing gets submerged in black Gatorade.
Da$H, “Dog Day Afternoon”
I did something of a wellness check/salute to Da$H in my June Rap-Up. The public hadn’t heard from him in a while, and New Jersey’s dark lord looked like he was going through it when he popped up in the background of a local music video. He promptly flicks ashes over all that on “Dog Day Afternoon,” 100 seconds of stairwell sermon produced by Zoomo. He sounds crispy again, golden soul with blue-brown grime. “Everybody listen when I’m spittin’, like the school announcements.” Evergreen. Welcome back.