The Rap-Up: Family Business
We break down new tracks from Samara Cyn, Tierra Whack, Mike Sherm, and more.
Samara Cyn f/ Ovrkast., “BUSHWICK”
Samara Cyn channels the high-pitched range of Ghanaian artist Amaraee for “BUSHWICK,” where the Murfreesboro, Tennessee rapper promises that she “knows some guys” there in case you got a problem. In the 1970s, the Brooklyn neighborhood was the location of one of the most famous mafia hits in history, when Bonanno crime family boss and heroin impresario Carmine Galante was blown away by three masked gunmen who shot him to death in the backyard of an Italian restaurant. Pictures of Galante riddled with bullets still clutching his cigar between his teeth as he lay dead in a pile of blood—and what I’m assuming is some sort of red sauce—are some of the most iconic crime scene photos ever released. Today, Bushwick is less known for its mafia stronghold and more as a partially-gentrified haven for artists, reformed hipsters, and the queers, gays, and theys who’ve claimed it as their own.
But this isn’t to say Bushwick has lost its grit. There’s still much to fear, and much to celebrate about the infamous Brooklyn neighborhood, as Ovrkast briefly and stylishly explains in half a verse at the end of the track.
Tierra Whack, “WAX PAPER”
Tierra Whack seems to be an artist I get extremely excited about once every two years. The first time she rang my bell was with Whack World, an album of glorified snippets with accompanying videos that were both wildly creative and charmingly low-budget. I always wished she had re-released Whack World with fully fleshed-out versions of the tracks, but obviously that was never the point. Since then, she’s sporadically released music ranging from very good to forgettable, collaborating with artists like Beyoncé and working on the Lion King soundtrack. But Tierra Whack always sounds best when she’s by herself, a distinctly modern mix of Missy Elliot and Junglepussy.
“Wax Paper” is the type of ‘90s boom-bap revamp that Schoolboy Q loves to hop on when he’s in album mode. This is a no-frills rap beat with a haunting backdrop, which Tierra matches with an unpredictably aggressive flow, as if she has some pent-up rage to get out after years of semi-silence. One of her most unique qualities is her ability to shape-shift, but there’s always been an undertone of angsty displeasure at the way things are, whether she’s addressing it head-on, like with “Wax Paper,” or creating whole new worlds to thrive in with Whack World. It’s this gift that will always make Tierra Whack an artist to press play on, because you never know quite what to expect other than that it’ll be well produced and conceptually considered.
Maxo Kream, “Time Out”
My favorite thing JPEGMAFIA has done in recent memory has to be this frenetic production for Maxo Kream’s “Time Out,” which has the Texas-raised rapper continuing his career-long meditation on his African roots. The percussion here reminds me of head-spinning drum circles I witnessed in Accra, adding a memorable bounce to the hypnotic keyboard-led beat. Maxo Kream is best when burrowing deep into his own family history, exploring what it took for them to escape their social standing. “If I start talking amphetamines, I might go back to downers, I’m getting sick of Houston, city filled with out-of-owners.” Lines like this express a specificity that lets keen listeners know that Maxo has been through it himself, knowing that if he indulges in cocaine or meth for one night, he’ll relapse on his actual drugs of choice—opiates or benzodiazepines—just to make it through the hellish comedown. It’s a vicious cycle we’re all trying to avoid, getting on one drug as a way to get off another, except the only thing is: the drugs are so strong today, quitting them cold turkey could be dangerous, so much so that you could die. Talk about a death drive.
Mike Sherm, “Wrong Idea”
I can’t remember the last time Mike Sherm missed. He’s more than the Bay’s answer to Tyga. He’s single-handedly keeping alive a mutation of hyphy that he could arguably be described as the best evolution of it yet. Every song seems to be sub-three minutes of pure turn-up fodder, meant to offend anybody over 50 and signal to everyone else that it’s time to party, and to leave the morality at the door. “Wrong Idea” follows the Mike Sherm formula: two verses and a chorus meant to be repeated enough times to have it memorized by the end of the first listen. It harks back to the early 2010s days of West Coast hits that could be both danceable club records and music to ride along to, whether you’re with a car full of girls or with your boys heading to the beach.