rap

Album Review: Chance the Rapper – The Big Day

Sep 17, 2019 – by Bryony Gooch

Print Music Editor Bryony Gooch reviews Chance the Rapper’s latest album

Picture this: Chance the Rapper has been talking to you for over an hour. He is enthusiastically delivering his latest hot take: Marriage is Good.

Did I do it right? The joke that everyone has been making since Chance the Rapper’s album came out? Pointing out that his new album is so obsessed with his own marriage that he comes across reminiscent to one of the “Smug Married” couples so candidly imagined in Bridget Jones’s Diary?

It goes without saying that, while receiving some popular reviews among critics, Chance the Rapper’s debut album (following 3 mixtapes) is his least popular to date. From early on in his discography, Chance gave the impression of a refreshingly informal and earnest musician with an apparent disdain for record label constraints. Yet the pre-release publicity of The Big Day has arguably brought this into question. With its disappointing listening party “sponsored and hosted” by Spotify, where it was announced that the album would not actually be released and, therefore, only one new song was played, to Chance’s own attitude towards his fans. There have been numerous red flags suggesting that this upcoming album would not meet fans’ expectations.

A braggadocious, surface-level look into his lavish lifestyle

But I don’t think that Chance’s well-meaning ode to marriage is the worst thing about The Big Day. After all, there is nothing wrong with anyone celebrating their loved ones, and his wedding day is clearly a really important moment for him. The issue is, it is so clear that he has nothing interesting to say about marriage. But worse than that – he has nothing captivating to say generally, and is completely unaware of this.

The tracklist on its own is overwhelming. Ed Sheeran’s recent collaborative effort looked (and sounded) a complete mess, but the entire premise of it was collaborative and he was at least honest about this. Out of The Big Day’s 22 songs, only 3 of them see Chance performing alone. Perhaps the dependence on other artists would be redeemable if Chance was spotlighting these other artists, but we have heard better from most, if not all, of these artists.

The introductory song ‘All Day Long’ very much sets the tone of the album; while quintessentially Chance in its gospel influence, it feels chaotically put together. The discordance between the song’s muted keys and Chance’s fast-pace yet irksome delivery over a trap-inflected beat feels overbearing. Furthermore, this album truly will take “all day long” to listen to, as despite being 1 hour and 17 minutes (22 songs long!), it is not something that can be consumed in one sitting.

‘Hot Shower’ is stripped to a trap-beat which allows for an unforgiving showcase of what is perhaps Chance the Rapper’s worst delivery in his career. A braggadocious, surface-level look into his lavish lifestyle, Chance’s flow is more reminiscent of joke rap battles on YouTube than anything you’d actually choose to listen to. Chance’s verse, especially where he’s riffing on the word ‘dude’, is exceptionally grating. DaBaby’s verse is the track’s only redeeming quality, as MadeinTYO’s flow copies Chance’s own uninventive contribution. To conclude: ‘Hot Shower’? More like ‘Hot Mess’ featuring DaBaby.

it lacks what fans love about Chance the Rapper: his authenticity and self-awareness

The aim of ‘We Go High’, as a testament of the time when he split up from his current wife, is well-meaning (I think this can generally be said about Chance’s general attempt to make 22 songs about his marriage – that it is, in theory, sweet. But in practise it’s quite overbearing). But if Chance is trying to emulate the same multi-faceted bars that you can find in his contributions to tracks like ‘Ultralight Beam’ or SZA’s ‘Child’s Play’, or even his own ‘Cocoa Butter Kisses’ and ‘Same Drugs’, he fails terribly. Chance claimed in an interview with Zane Lowe that his third verse on this track is the best he has ever written, but I’m not sure what he finds laudable about the line “We give the glory to You, God/ One livin’ true God, He make us booyah”.

The title track is similarly disappointing as Chance can only muster to point out that ‘oh my God this is the greatest day of my life’ throughout the track. The song appears to have no development past this sentiment, but 2 minutes in Francis and the Lights start howling over the top of the unremarkable instrumental. The quality of this vocal content is scratchy and unpleasant, and while you get the idea that this is somehow supposed to illustrate his point that “the only way to survive is to go crazy”; it realistically adds absolutely nothing to the song.

But then it goes without saying that this album adds nothing to his discography generally. The entire idea of an album dedicated to his wife is well-meaning and, contrary to the memes, far from the album’s biggest problem. The Big Day lacks what fans love about Chance the Rapper; his authenticity and self-awareness are what makes his uplifting music feel so appealing. Whether that was detailing his 10-day expulsion or his humble attitude in the presence of his hero Kanye West, Chance always seemed aware of the depth behind what was going on in front of him. Hopefully, he will find his mojo in time for his next release.

Album Review: Ed Sheeran – No. 6 Collaborations Project

Aug 7, 2019 – by Stephen Ong

Online editor Stephen Ong reviews Ed Sheeran’s latest album

Ed Sheeran’s rise to fame has been nothing short of extraordinary, going from an unsigned artist to an artist with three top five hits in 2011, before breaking numerous records with the release of ‘Thinking Out Loud’ in 2014. Just as extraordinary as that was the decline in quality of his music on ÷, which was a sign of what was to come on Sheeran’s fourth studio album, No. 6 Collaborations Project.

No. 6 Collaborations Project is neither a follow up to Sheeran’s 2011 EP No. 5 Collaborations Project nor ÷; instead it’s more akin to a DJ Khaled album. For all the flack ÷ gets, at least songs like ‘Eraser’ and the numerous ballads on the record had substance, something sorely missing on No. 6 Collaborations Project. Sheeran is a man who has built up a career on substance, singing about homelessness, prostitution and heartbreak with a soulful voice that was unlike anything on pop radio – and at this point in his career, it seems as though he’s abandoned this raw honesty.

at this point in his career, it seems as though he’s abandoned this raw honesty

That being said, No. 6 Collaborations Project is barely even an album. It’s not part of the Ed Sheeran mathematical canon of albums, and functions as a collaborative compilation rather than an actual cohesive album. It’s not an engaging listen, but to be fair to Sheeran, he has substantial input on each of the tracks, and doesn’t feel the need to proclaim that ‘we the best music’ at the start of each song. The songs themselves range from inoffensive (‘Cross Me’ is a decent song, but nothing more) to forgettable (‘Remember The Name’ comes 15 years too late to be a hit) to utter atrocities (the less said about ‘BLOW’, the better), but at least Ed Sheeran sounds like he’s having fun.

It’s fair to say that the quality of the album gradually declines – opening track ‘Beautiful People’ is a cute song for summer nights, halfway through the album is ‘Antidote’, Sheeran’s uninspiring recreation of ‘SICKO MODE’, and ten songs in is a vapid dance song with Ella Mai that has you wishing you’re back in a club at 2am dancing to ‘Shape Of You’ for the fourth time that night. Possibly the only engaging moment on the last 20 minutes of the album is the relatable line “Wetherspoon’s was an easy option / To get a cheaper lunch / And a £2 pint” on ‘1000 Nights’, which would be a good song if not for a horrifying garbage rap verse from Meek Mill.

Possibly the only engaging moment on the last 20 minutes of the album is the relatable line “Wetherspoon’s was an easy option / To get a cheaper lunch / And a £2 pint”

Perhaps that’s the appeal of Ed Sheeran – he has a great ear for a pop hook, but it’s the everyday relatability of his lyrics that wins over his diverse fanbase. A trend throughout the album is his inability to fit in, singing ‘don’t think I fit in at this party’ on lead single ‘I Don’t Care’, ‘we don’t fit in well because we are just ourselves’ on ‘Beautiful People’, and Sheeran questions “why the hell she love me when she could have anyone else?” on ‘Best Part of Me’. But despite his songwriting on No. 6 Collaborations Project being the worst it’s ever been, his talent shines through on the few rap verses he has; ‘Take Me Back to London’ is a definite grime hit where Sheeran’s rapping is at least on par with Stormzy’s. Another reason the song shines is the quality of Stormzy’s feature; the only other song where both Sheeran and the featured artists are firing on all cylinders is the eccentric ‘Feels’, featuring Young Thug and J Hus. Young Thug’s melodic autotuned rap is perfect foil for Sheeran’s tight hook, and J Hus is at home on the song’s bouncy beat.

In short, No. 6 Collaborations Project isn’t meant to be listened to as an album, and the songs are probably best enjoyed in your playlist of this summer’s chill pop music. Ultimately, it’s a collection of throwaway pop songs that Ed Sheeran wrote with his musical mates for a laugh, and will have the unfortunate side effect of dominating every musical platform there is for the next year. Nonetheless, this appears to be a good sign for the eventual Subtract; with this project out of the way, Sheeran can focus on what will be a serious, and hopefully his best, effort yet.

Album Review: Skepta – Ignorance Is Bliss

After his last release, Konnichiwa, won the Mercury Prize, Skepta has a lot of expectations to live up to. He won a new level of respect for grime as a genre, and the question of the follow-up plagues him as much as it did The Stone Roses or Primal Scream. And just like those bands, Skepta has delivered an album not bad by any measure, but underwhelming.

The album begins in glorious clarity, the first song ‘Bullet from a Gun’ shows a new perspective from a man who has become a father recently, and he weighs his family history and the impact his dad had on his life. His flow is seamless too; reminiscent of earlier days when he was freestyling in the street for Risky Roadz. Some of the lyrics are direct echoes – ‘I went silver, I went Gold/Then I went platinum so what’s next’ and that last line added on shows he is aware of the progress he’s made and the distance he’s come, from flogging Boy Better Know tees to posing with Naomi Campbell for the front of GQ. If that clarity hung around for the whole album we would be looking at Konnichiwa’s equal, unfortunately it has got lost by the second song ‘Greaze Mode’. Here he dips his toe into the murky waters of trap, and things become pretty generic; women, weed and wishing the song would end. On top, there is an awful showing from Nafe Smallz – ‘On her knees/She see the D/She see the freeze/Rolling trees/From overseas/Smoke for free/N**** please’ and you find yourself longing for the days when it was a challenge to keep up with the flow because Skepta was going so fast. Hazy is not his strong suit.

the lyrical swiftness and sharp production that makes Skepta stand head, shoulders and cap above other grime MC’s

Thankfully his skills resurface later. ‘Same Old Story’ and ‘Going Through It’ bear the lyrical swiftness and sharp production that makes Skepta stand head, shoulders and cap above other grime MC’s. ‘Love Me Not’ and ‘You Wish’ sound fresh and classic at once, and there is a ruthlessly political track ‘Glow In The Dark’ that tackles identity politics and political hypocrisy with some deft images – ‘Politicians trying to get tickets to come to the shows/I shake hands with a long arm never get close’. At the same time, you can’t escape the shots that Skepta painfully misses. The production on some tracks is very dodgy – ‘No Sleep’ in particular is like being beaten over the head with a set of cowbells. While he makes some fair complaints about identity politics and the way political correctness stifle good music, lyrics like the weak domestic violence similes on ‘Redrum’ come across short sighted at best – ‘Slap it like who/Slap it like what/Slap it like Ike Turner’.

Most of all, the message of the album that Skepta is growing up or evolving doesn’t fit with the feel of the lyrics. He is 36 years old now and has a baby girl, so the braggadocio might ease off a bit, you would think. However, he is just as cocky as ever it seems, the mellowing and maturing isn’t happening even though he says it is. Young rappers yet to make it big have to be boasty, have to fight for their place. With Skepta though, it always had a sense of irony – this being the man who named his first album Greatest Hits. But now he is fully grown and has reached higher than any other MC, it comes off as arrogant, immature. Ignorance Is Bliss tries to straddle the gap between the roots and the new growth, where he came from and where he’s going. What it delivers is a strange mix of nostalgia and innovation that suggest Skepta hasn’t quite found the balance yet.

Hip-Hop Landscapes

The United States. Arguably an epicentre for the West’s idea of musical success, producing some of this decade’s greatest musicians, but also many genres of music: RnB, Blues, Country, and the most popular genre of the moment, hip-hop. We all know the story: hip-hop was born during the 1970s from the Bronx from African-American and Latino youth; this small movement has since then snowballed into the mainstream genre we know today. But how can we map its changing identity?

the East focused more on conscious lyricism, jazz-based sampling, and boom-bap drum kicks

It would be easy to reduce this hip-hop landscape to notorious the 1990s rivalry of East versus West; the supposed Golden Age of hip-hop. And yet, to an outsider, it can be difficult to pinpoint the exact stylistic differences between the two coasts; the general consensus is that the East focused more on conscious lyricism, jazz-based sampling, and boom-bap drum kicks, while the West co-opted its own genre with G-Funk that incorporated aspects of the George Clinton’s Parliament Funkadelic sound.

But hip-hop has grown past the East-West divide; mapping itself across the country, differentiating state-by-state; nowadays, each city has its own identity.

the West co-opted its own genre with G-Funk that incorporated aspects of the George Clinton’s Parliament Funkadelic sound

Naturally, with the current mainstream popularity of trap music, it is undeniable that Atlanta has one of the biggest, fastest-growing music scenes as of now. From trap stars such as Migos, Future, and 21 Savage, to pioneering artists like Childish Gambino and OutKast, the city has more than earned The New York Times’ title as “hip-hop’s center [sic] of gravity”.

Florida, a state also in the south, is a movement that has rapidly changed over the past couple of decades. In the late noughties, both Pitbull and Flo Rida cornered the market as artists who blended hip-hop with EDM. Pitbull is an especially interesting artist to consider as he blended in homages to Florida’s latin scene and his own Cuban roots. Yet Florida has also had a growing cloud rap scene with artists like Denzel Curry who opt for hazier, lo-fi sounds. But currently, Florida is perhaps best known for its pioneering role in the SoundCloud rap scene with the likes of Lil Pump, Smokepurrp, and Saba highlighting how anyone can be a famous musician in the age of the internet.

Florida is perhaps best known for its pioneering role in the SoundCloud rap scene

While the South has its own fast-growing movements, it would be a mistake to rule out the Midwest. Naturally known for its hero, Kanye West, Chicago was long the place for the alternative hip-hop scene, with artists like Common and Lupe Fiasco opting for more conscious lyricism to the beats of its key producer, No.I.D. Detroit is another Midwest giant. If you look past its hip-hop hero Eminem, you’ll see it has an innovative history with producers such as J Dilla creating some of the most interesting beats in record. Danny Brown, Dej Loaf, and Big Sean all hail from Detroit, making it a city with a diverse range of rappers.

But while these cities all stick out for having their own unique identities, it is becoming clear that hip-hop’s influence has spread across the United States with artists popping up everywhere, from Washington State to Alabama. And it’s only getting more diverse.

Album Review: Lizzo – Cuz I Love You

In 2014, flautist/singer/rapper Lizzo stormed onto the scene with the aptly named Lizzobangers and no one batted an eye. Not even with the hypnotically fun ‘Batches & Cookies’, or my personal favourite – the sharp and speedy ‘Pants vs. Dress’. In fact, Lizzo has been bringing out a steady stream of thunderously good music since Lizzobangers without any major breakthrough; not even a stint on Vogue’s YouTube channel promoting her catchy 2016 EP Coconut Oil did much to make her a household name.

This is not me being that eye-roll inducing music writer who gloats about how they discovered so-and-so before everyone else. I understood that my desire for Lizzo to break into the mainstream instantaneously was wildly unrealistic; it is, after all, quite rare to become a star instantly. But it’s the perfect opportunity to point out that Lizzo’s discography has been widely ignored up until this point.

With its thundering, soul-clenching brass instrumentation, she is both emotionally raw with powerful, sturdy vocals

So the second I heard the single ‘Juice’ back in January, a precursory track to her third full-length album Cuz I Love You, I quietly name-dropped her in every group chat I was in, unwilling to let Lizzo fly under the radar once again. The song itself is brilliant with pure Nile Rodgers vibes and infallible self-assurance and has since become a stalwart at every social gathering I’ve been to this year. It goes without saying that Lizzo’s latest album has been one of my most anticipated albums of the year.

And boy, was it worth the anticipation. From the opening track, eponymously named ‘Cuz I Love You’, Lizzo introduces herself as a true melodrama. With its thundering, soul-clenching brass instrumentation, she is both emotionally raw with powerful, sturdy vocals as she wails that she’s “crying cuz I love you” before going into humorously frank verses about how bizarre it is to be in love and to have this emotional turmoil before we are magnetically drawn back to that melodramatic chorus. It’s a song that very much sets the precedent of the album with all its theatre, humour, self-love, and sheer talent.

she is a tour-de-force with vibrant, yelping lyrics, filled with fun and flare

We move into the exceptionally fun ‘Like A Girl’ where Lizzo asserts her dominance as a woman as she raps that the “only exes that I care about are in my f*ckin’ chromosomes” and that she’s got “nothin’ to prove”. The song is a true anthem for modern day women and Lizzo exudes confidence.

Throughout the entire album, she is a tour-de-force with vibrant, yelping lyrics, filled with fun and flare. But she thrives on ‘Tempo’, a song that excites with its juddering electronic beat, as Lizzo purrs that “slow songs they for skinny h*es” and demands that all plus-sized women “f*ck it up to the tempo”. The Missy Elliott feature is fitting but truly it is Lizzo who shines on the track as she is truly in her element as a plus-sized woman in rap pushing for self-love and bravado. Her flute-solo towards the end is especially hypnotic, another opportunity for her to showcase her many talents as she wails at the end for us to “run that sh*t back” as though her instrumental prowess deserves a replay. She’s not wrong.

there is a sense that Lizzo will stop at nothing until her message of self-love well and truly sinks in

While the album’s more intimate moments do not necessarily stand out on first listen, songs like ‘Jerome’ and ‘Lingerie’ arguably take a more interesting narrative focus; as Lizzo once said in an interview with Exclaim! : “Big women are pursued for relationships, big women deal with f*ckboys, big women are beautiful and loving creatures, and it’s just not talked about because it’s not the story that mainstream media chooses to tell.” ‘Lingerie’ is especially interesting as the final song; sultry, ever so slightly more stripped down, it is a track engrossed in sex. If the entire album is a call for self-love, then ‘Lingerie’ is a call for acknowledgement in a world which often dismisses plus-sized women as sexual beings.

Cuz I Love You is overbearingly brilliant. Its production is polished and put-together, but there is a sense that Lizzo will stop at nothing until her message of self-love well and truly sinks in. While this sometimes risks feeling overwhelming, the multi-talented musician pulls it off brilliantly, like the diva she is.

Album Review: Dave’s PSYCHODRAMA

“Stop all the pain. How do you stop all the pain?” Dave’s opens his debut album with an inquisition into his own mental health – and the next 51 minutes are spent encouraging the same self-evaluation from his listeners. Appending certain tracks with snippets of a therapy session, Dave leaves facetious hip-hop skits behind in favour of a weighty narrative of introspection that cares about individuals and the tensions that shape them. And from these sensitive roots grew a work of ambition and resonance. Spinning off the success of the 2017 EP, Game Over, Dave’s PSYCHODRAMA is informed by the tangible vitality of grime and the vulnerability of spoken word, but it explores all of the dark crevices in between. This is rap music that refuses to simply satisfy and exhilarate. It’s determined to confront personal pain and social injustice across 11, palpable snapshots of urban life.

Dave leaves facetious hip-hop skits behind in favour of a weighty narrative of introspection

His flows slip seamlessly between deep, bouncing pulses and spare piano arrangements, with equal parts grit and wit. As we’ve come to expect from the prolific 20-year-old, the lyricism is slick, biting, and at points jaw-dropping; each track builds a tight web of clever phrasing and sizzling wordplay that serves his reflections on family and identity as well as it does his socio-political probing. “I turned a loss to a lesson”, he remarks on ‘Screwface Capital’, in a punchy reminder of the emotional costs of city life, and a confirmation that he’s as efficient in simplicity. The track plays out to a hypnotic, jazz-skewed keyboard solo, in one of the album’s most intriguing diversions.

each track builds a tight web of clever phrasing and sizzling wordplay

Brave in content and form, Dave doesn’t shy from brutal truths: he laments an abusive relationship for 11 minutes on ‘Lesley’, and caps his debut with ‘Drama’, a 7-minute reflection on his career, his family, and the pain that’s got him to this point. He offers poppier outings on ‘Voices’ and ‘Location’ with a hint of old-school garage, but no integrity is lost in the process – every loose thread is anchored down by self-reflexive weight: Dave knows who he is and where he is, and draws boundaries around his art. In the midst of his lamentation over women suffering in abusive relationships during ‘Lesley’, he remarks “I understand that I could never understand” – a commendable and necessary awareness that his persuasive lyricism is not dogma.

Dave draws boundaries around his art

The 11 tracks are draining, and it’s a fair price we have to pay for this pointed exploration of heavy themes. The gloves are off, and we feel the full impact of every punch. But there’s a point where I was left pondering what Dave wants to be. Poetic storyteller? Political commentator? Mouthpiece of a community? And the more I listen, the more I understand my own critical shortcoming – in trying to understand its coherence, I ended up searching for homogeneity. A homogeneity that doesn’t, and shouldn’t exist.

there’s a point where I was left pondering what Dave wants to be

“Black is people naming your countries on what they trade most” – on the album’s stirring centrepiece, ‘Black’, Dave sketches out the stubborn social parasite of racial inequality, dismantling the homogenous lens through which the ‘white’ elite continues to view ‘black’ culture. The song is a multi-layered defence of his racial identity – its pain, its beauty, and its value – and the album as a whole extrapolates this unapologetic celebration of selfhood onto a broader frame. And although Dave brings the message to his front door on the pulsating, angry ‘Streatham’, he’s speaking to black, urban communities everywhere.

Dave sketches out the stubborn social parasite of racial inequality

Dave looks to articulate what the media and the political elite so lazily overlook – a community is constructed and defined by its individuals; by both their successes and their sufferings. And as PSYCHODRAMA flicks from pulsating grime beats to subtle, skewed sampling, to ominously ambient minimalism – all while sitting atop Dave’s mellow, careful piano riffs – it feels like Dave is holding up a mirror to his own, diverse surroundings. What we’re left with is a pertinent, urgent defence of communities that are persistently misunderstood and generalised. A fast-paced, chaotic lifestyle doesn’t obscure political and emotional intelligence.

Dave looks to articulate what the media and the political elite so lazily overlook

“You’re my therapy” Dave confesses as he speaks directly to us on ‘Psycho’. For the youngster who grew up freestyling and mastering the piano, PSYCHODRAMA seems to offer a very real sense of therapeutic release – a proud tapestry of his artistic and emotional voyage. But the album is as inviting as it is intimate. He speaks for his community, but he simultaneously pleads his listeners to look inward themselves – he wants us to understand our own shortcomings, and reconcile our own pain. And I’m left accepting this invite, and thinking about that line on ‘Lesley’ – as a white, middle-class kid, there is a limit to what I can ‘understand’ about the importance of this vital album. Potent, challenging, and healing – it is a work beyond me, and a work beyond anything else in the British rap scene.

Creative Influences or Copyright?

Worthy words on collaboration:

Artists like Diana Smith can make digital oil paintings out of computer code; sculptors are laying down their chisels and ordering 3D printers; bands can link produce hits without ever meeting in person. Technology opens new lines of communication and creation, and portals to the art world pop up everywhere: the phrase ‘anything is possible’ gets more impressive every time a new thing is created. This influx of collaborative genius prompts fresh investigation into the Cult of the Author. We should look back at the canon of classical creators, to see if they’re really as unique and spontaneous as we might assume.

William Wordsworth is often regarded (by me) as a rapturously creative Romantic poet, head and shoulders above his peers. He’s often quoted declaring ‘every great and original writer must create the taste by which he (sic) is to be relished.’ Creating the taste is exactly what he did for his most famous work Lyrical Ballads, co-authored by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. As a poetry collection, the collab is quite one-sided. If it was a hip-hop album, it might have ‘Wordsworth Feat. Coleridge’ on a track or two, but for the most part it’s all Will. Wordsworth was two years older, more focused, and casts quite a prestigious shadow from which Coleridge has struggled to escape.

influx of collaborative genius prompts fresh investigation into the Cult of the Author

There was another figure shaping Wordsworth’s creativity who gets even less credit. She’s a figure who makes me think twice about the worth of the word ‘Wordsworth’: William’s sister, Dorothy. Despite rarely being credited with any of William’s word-work, Dorothy was instrumental in the creative process. The Wordsworths lived together, explored the world together, and composed together. Lucy Newlyn, a Wordsworth(s) scholar, calls their creative relationship ‘symbiosis’.

Although I called Lyrical Ballads William’s most famous collection, surely ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’ are his most worthy words. However, identical words to that poem, sometimes called Daffodils, appear from Dorothy in a journal from years before. Dorothy wrote journals of her days with William, exploring words and worlds, and critics think the Wordsworths often reminisced together back through the entries. Instead of copying or intellectual theft, Lucy Newlyn sees Daffodils ‘speaking on behalf of both of them’. If that’s the case, the poem should be attributed to the WordsworthS plural, not just Will.

There was another figure shaping Wordsworth’s creativity who gets even less credit…his sister Dorothy

Indeed, the quotation about ‘great and original’ poets being taste-makers earlier in the article- William himself attributed that to Coleridge! Clearly, taste-making is a collaborative process, and ‘original’ is a misleading mode of thought. In a recent article, I killed the Author, and here I demand the dismemberment of the Author’s body. Redistribute credit to the collaborative process!

In his private letters, William called Dorothy and Coleridge ‘the two beings to whom my intellect is most indebted.’ This debt is not monetary, it’s a debt of credit and acknowledgement. It can be paid in full if we add an ‘S’ to every Wordsworth poem and every Wordsworth collection. If you have time, add a little ‘STC’ for S. T. Coleridge as well, as many poems created collaboratively and must be credited as such. These Wordsworthian works, particularly the greatest hits, were joint efforts from team STC and the WordsworthS.

The trio formed the core of a small creative group, or coterie. The best art is produced in this way: collaboratively. The most innovative art of the early 20th Century came from Modernists coteries like the Bloomsbury group. T S Eliot’s The Wasteland is what it is because of his editor and collaborator Ezra Pound. Similarly, the most innovative lyrics of the 21st are from hip-hop ‘coteries’ like Odd Future and BROCKHAMPTON in the States, and BBK and High Focus in the UK. Jarring as it may be to compare rap with literature, I think every lover of language, particularly English students, should show interest in rap music. It’s the most lyrically dense art in existence, and it’s the most collaborative. For the most part, rappers also credit their collaborators. Perhaps STC and the Wordsworths should’ve released material as a group, with each lyric evenly accredited.

In conclusion:
Add an ‘S’ to Wordsworth.
Pull apart the author.
Collaborate to create.
Bump a rap album on Spotify while you do it.

Live Review: Hobo Johnson & the Lovemakers @ Bristol O2

Bristol is the waviest city in England, and home to a large portion of its freaks. On Saturday 22 January, every single beautiful one, of the hundreds who showed up to the O2 Academy to see Hobo Johnson, came dressed to play. Even the guy in his leaver’s hoodie. At a gig. Imagine. All over the room, nose rings, tattoos, freaky clothes and haircuts of all shaves and sizes, in every colour, were wedged in like funky crayons.

I placed myself under an O2 Priority poster saying “Our time here is like a drop in the ocean. Breathe it all in.” and from under this corporate advert for drowning I watched the gig unfold.

The bass rattles the room, and the warm-up act – neon mushroom Oliver Tree – speeds on stage on a scooter followed by his band. These guys are weird. Tree looks like a Gallagher brother after a psychedelic breakdown, fluorescent and rocking a bizarre bowl cut that works great on stage but makes you worry that he still has that hair once the gig is over. His guitarist is like a shaggy Ron Weasley and the drummer is already freaking out over the cymbals. The energy is infectious. The crowd is bouncing in feral waves as they launch into some of their best know songs ‘All that’ and ‘Alien Boy’. When ‘Movement’ starts, the lanky kid in front of me who smells of stale smoke pulls out his gun fingers. Christ knows how he got those through security.

the lanky kid in front of me pulls out his gun fingers… Christ knows how he got those through security

Tree is doing a new dance move every minute and a fresh cheer goes up with each one. These are some seriously weird shapes he’s cutting, he looks like one of The Teletubbies being electrocuted. Miraculously he maintains the energy throughout his set and the crowd barely stops either, even during the slower songs, and as he comes to the end with his best-known number ‘When I’m Down’ everyone watching is jittering and the stage lights blare wild colours. The sound man is spasming behind the deck trying to keep up in a frenzy of hands. Tree has delivered a performance worthy of a headline set, and the chatter among the audience buzzes with hope that the main act will exceed it.

A half hour lull follows where nobody dares to move and the excitement builds again as the sound techs finish rearranging the stage. Suddenly Hobo Johnson’s voice is monologuing, and one band member appears and takes up the keyboard. Then the man himself is running on stage to furious screams and yelling out ‘DeMarcus Cousins and Ashley’. He’s dressed for the beach, barefoot and baggy shirt with tight shorts that end below the knee, like he’s back in California. Maybe he’s yet to adjust to the British winter, or maybe he’s very sensible; we passed sweaty in here an hour ago. He raps flawlessly and knows how to play the crowd. He’s expressive, running mad circles over the stage, resonating with the crowd’s cheers, whipping them up into peaks like meringue.

He raps flawlessly and knows how to play the crowd

Two songs later, he rallies the noise and ‘Space Jam’ starts blaring as he introduces his lineup: “And here come the lovemakers! – y’all ready for this?” The band barrel on – the drummer looks exactly like an Irish guy called John I once met – and they charge into ‘Romeo and Juliet’, one of their best, performed perfectly. Yet as the show rolls into its middle, one fact becomes unfortunately plain: Hobo Johnson’s only album on Spotify, The Rise of Hobo Johnson, is only 28 minutes long.

one fact becomes unfortunately plain: Hobo Johnson’s only album on Spotify is only 28 minutes long

Accordingly they fill the middle with talking, songs from his unknown 94 Corolla album, and straight poetry. Johnson has always been clear that he is not a rapper but a poet, yet the crowd don’t seem to know. It is uncomfortable to hear him getting quieter, monologuing and freestyling his poetry, while the crowd’s chatter gets louder and more disruptive. Thankfully as the songs resume and Hobo pauses on the lyric “I’m still waiting for bras to be thrown on stage”, a lacy black number flies out of the crowd. He takes it in his stride, wearing it proudly round his neck as a push-up tie, and a minute after, a girl launches some paper on stage with a shriek of “I wrote you some poetry!” By this point everyone is back on board and the redhead in front of me is vibrating her head at 100rpm. They finish, of course, with ‘Peach Scone’ and the crowd go mad. All the energy is collected and concentrated into 3 minutes of bodies swaying like wheat in a windstorm, and the gig is over and we’re back out in the cold, weed-smelling night air.

Bristol is the waviest city in England, and home to a large portion of its freaks. Tonight, they were treated to a freakshow by two of their own; a weirdo and a hobo. And it was glorious. I should finish with Oliver Tree’s parting words, because they sketch the gig in fine detail: “No matter how weird you look, you are beautiful”. Trite, perhaps, but I love it. And so did Bristol.

No Role Modelz: Crime and Hip-Hop

Back in the 60s, 70s, and 80s, rockstars were known for their outlandish behaviour almost as much as they were known for their music. You could rely on a huge musical act like AC/DC or The Doors to trash their hotel rooms whilst on tour. Post Malone makes note of this fact in his hit ‘rockstar’, which alludes to the fact that modern day rappers are today’s rockers: “S**t was legendary/Threw a TV out the window of the montage”.

Nowadays, it’s clear that A-list rappers live the same lavish lives and participate in the same shenanigans as their more classic counterparts, with several arguments as to why this is the case. This concept of rowdy counter-culture, rebellious attitude and run-ins with the law has not at all changed, and the fact that many hip-hop and rap artists today come from very rough upbringings means that many of them are no stranger to criminal behaviour. In 2006, the Academy Award for best song was given to the film Hustle & Flow for the song ‘It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp’. Controversial gang affiliated rapper 6ix9ine currently faces a minimum sentence of 32 years to life if found guilty of racketeering charges (on his latest single, ‘STOOPID’, he featured Bobby Shmurda rapping through a prison phone). And of course, in the 90’s, the feuds of Notorious B.I.G and Tupac stemmed from East/West rap rivalry. Both rappers were killed.

it’s clear that A-list rappers live the same lavish lives and participate in the same shenanigans as their classic counterparts

The idea that being a true hip-hop or urban artist requires a certain rough and toughness is heavily ingrained into the culture. The fact that there is an entire genre of music called ‘gangsta rap’ is a testament to that.

A good example of this dichotomy, and the dismissal of rappers that aren’t “hard”, is Maryland MC Logic. Raised in Section 8 housing, he was surrounded by addiction, racism, drugs and domestic abuse his entire life, and dropped out of school as a teenager to pursue his dream. But he doesn’t seem to talk about his upbringing in the same boisterous, braggadocious way that other rappers might. For example, Bronx native Pusha T is the opposite, using his drug dealing career as a central theme in his music. Logic prefers to build a following by rapping about injustice, racism, equality, and acceptance. His third studio album, ΞVERYBODY, was based on this: “I’m discussing…the fight for equality of every man, woman, and child regardless of race, religion, colour, creed, and sexual orientation… we are born equal, but we are not treated equally.”

Logic doesn’t talk about his upbringing in the same boisterous way that other rappers might

In order to fully understand the core of this trend, it’s important to look back through the pages of history and trace the roots of urban music, rap and hip hop. In doing so, you’d end up in the Bronx in about 1970. It was the poorest congressional district in the USA. It was also a hotbed of crime, arson and unrest following the civil rights movement. The heart of hip hop beat to the rhythm of the inner city – and was founded and formed in a culture where music was an escape, an outlet for the youth, and carried heavy political undertones. Given that Patient Zero of hip hop has such a rich history, it’s no surprise that many rappers experience similar run-ins with the law on their ambitious paths to stardom, and the ‘come up’ is a journey synonymous with this genre of music. In the inner city it is not uncommon to find oneself amidst illegal activity, and many A-list rappers have tangled with the law before, and during, their fame. Some even have gang affiliations. Snoop Dogg is a known Crip, Chris Brown claims Blood ties, as does Lil Wayne, and the list goes on; all three of whom have been arrested multiple times. Snoop Dogg was even acquitted for murder in the 1990s.

The heart of hip-hop beat to the rhythm of the inner city and was founded in a culture where music was an escape

It would be reasonable to expect that, after their rise to fame, a criminal charge, an arrest or any other similar legal trouble might jeopardise a musician’s career. Overwhelmingly, it seems as though this is not so. The late XXXTENTACION had a loyal cult following despite his objectively heinous criminal behaviour, and Chris Brown still puts out songs that get millions of hits on YouTube despite his history of domestic abuse.

There is constant argument surrounding the ability to separate the art from the artist. Should you stop listening to The Weeknd because he was arrested for assaulting a police officer? What crime is the most damning, and where is the line drawn? What about the late Mac Miller’s DUI hit and run charges; can you still guiltlessly ask the DJ to play ‘When in Rome’?

It would seem that there is a cut-off point in terms of what an artist can get away with before being blacklisted by the musical community. Some hip-hop fans I interviewed say that offences relating to drugs and financial crimes are victimless, because drug use is a personal issue, and financial crimes like tax evasion are against the “institution”. The only types of crimes that students actively took issue with were those against other individuals, specifically referring to assault, battery and other similar crimes, because they are “an instance of one person doing direct harm to another”.

So how big a star does a rapper have to be to get away with a crime?

Ultimately, it is up to the individual listener to make that decision, and that person’s standards of what is or isn’t acceptable. There can’t be a rule book that collectively epitomises the standard of moral behaviour required for a “get out of jail free” card from a general population of listeners. It is up to you.

Exeposé Music’s Top Albums of 2018: 19-11

19 Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves

The last few years have seen various pop artists look to country, folk and Americana music as sources of inspiration in order to achieve a more ‘authentic’ sound. But all it took was Kacey Musgraves releasing her third album Golden Hour to prove just how blended country and pop ought to be done.

Each song creates an image of a woman who may not have it all together but assures us that it’s okay – a sentiment that in this tumultuous year everyone needs. The seamless transitions from slower tracks such as ‘Slow Burn’ and ‘Space Cowboy’ into more upbeat songs like ‘Velvet Elvis’ and the disco-infused ‘High Horse’ exhibit the broad spectrum of Musgraves’ talent. However, it’s the subtle one-two punch of the closing tracks which solidify this album as one of the best of the year. The titular song and ‘Rainbow’ highlight the idea that no one is perfect; we all make mistakes and have flaws but that’s what makes us human.

It’s a message which sounds simple and somewhat cliché but within Musgraves’ glorious songwriting feels brand new. Golden Hour feels like a sanctuary amongst the stress, self-doubt and anxiety of everyday modern life and it’s reassuring to have a musician as conscious and heartfelt as Kacey Musgraves to lead us through it all.

Tom Routledge

18 Staying at Tamara’s by George Ezra

It’s been four years since Wanted on Voyage catapulted Mr Ezra to incredible heights upon the musical frontier, so if that album hinted at the rather magnificent adventures he was about to experience then it’s fitting that Staying at Tamara’s feels more retrospective and sentimental.

Lyrically, this wisdom lurks in almost all of his tracks and Ezra should be commended for striking the balance for the dreaded sophomore album conundrum, feeling familiar but also new. His booming baritone vocals continue to give the songs more edge and depth. While several of the tracks have been drip-fed to the public over the course of the year, his hooks’ sharp edge, like those in ‘Paradise’ and ‘Pretty Shining People’, will have you singing and humming along to their melodies even after they’re finished with many of his songs saddled with a thumping bass or the punch of epic horns, as heard in ‘Shotgun’, to really compliment the track.

The album works when the bonhomie and geniality of Ezra’s likeable persona is present. There is enough depth and power for this not to be regressed to just background music and there’s an overt tone, in songs like ‘Hold My Girl’, that Ezra may be a little bit more lovesick than he was before. There’s no jadedness within Staying at Tamara’s, everything feels rather wholesome and simultaneously sincere without feeling too much like bromide and when hollow musical fluff can dominate the airwaves, there’s something quite pleasant about Ezra’s earnestness.

James Garbett

17 Palo Santo by Years & Years

Blending religious imagery and sexual subtext is nothing new, but Years and Years’ 2018 album Palo Santo brings a fresh twist to the theme with lead singer Olly Alexander’s queer lyrics. The single and album opener ‘Sanctify’ sets up the dialogue between sanctity and same-sex desire through lyrics that, somewhat predictably, pun on the idea of forbidden love and lying to each other (“You don’t have to be straight with me”), but that, in more poignant moments do highlight the ongoing guilt and hatred so much of the queer community is still subjected to today.

The album fuses upbeat pop tunes that present the highs and lows of a relationship – ‘All For You’ and ‘If You’re Over Me’ both exude doubt over the mutuality of love paired with fast rhythms that make the songs dancefloor-appropriate. The slower, ballad-like songs are equally worthy of praise, even if they are slightly less memorable in the latter half of the album. ‘Here’, drastically toned down compared to the other tracks with regard to both length and instrumentals, is a favourite with its close harmonies and thoughtful lyricism, contrasting with the album’s closing number, ‘Up In Flames’, that marks a return to Years and Years’ electro-pop roots. Palo Santo is an impressive follow-up to the band’s debut success, and hopefully signifies a promise for more genre-defying, queer-themed music to come.

Deepa Lalwani

16 Be the Cowboy by Mitski

Be The Cowboy is one of the shortest albums on the list, its 14 tracks squeezed into just 32 minutes. Mitski has talked before about how being a Japanese-American woman in music means she is afforded less time to represent herself or feel confident in her talent, feeding into the perhaps odd title of her fifth album: Mitski wants her listeners to embody the self-assuredness and swagger we associate with the mythical western cowboy.

The album is a departure from her previous work; she writes not about adolescence but adulthood, leaving her typical distorted guitar sound behind in favour of richer orchestration and wearier lyrics – see ‘Pink in the Night’ and lead single ‘Geyser’. Despite this record falling far from her lo-fi roots, Mitski shows that great music doesn’t need to be ultra-produced to be enjoyable (and critically successful) in today’s market. Most of the album lacks vocal doubles or harmonies, consciously replicating the experience of seeing a solo musician on stage. Despite touring with a talented band, Mitski is and has always been a soloist, with themes of loneliness flowing throughout. On ‘Nobody’ and ‘Lonesome Love’, she pairs devastatingly grave lyrics with upbeat rhythms and major keys. Be the Cowboy is deservedly topping many album-of-the-year lists; perhaps Mitski is becoming her own cowboy after all.

Emma Hussain

15 7 by Beach House

7 marks the beginning of a new era for Beach House, who announced the record in an open letter that spoke of “rebirth and rejuvenation”. Despite this, 7 rarely feels like anything new for the band. It maintains their signature dream-pop sound, embellishing it with shoegaze and psychedelic touches. However, this is the beauty of 7, as it is a natural progression of the formula Beach House had already perfected.

The live drumming and fuzzy guitars add warmth and sonic depth to the album, making it a more rewarding listen each time it’s played. The lyrics are also more relevant than ever – a culmination of Victoria Legrand’s ruminations on societal change and questioning where women, particularly famous women, belong in society (‘Girl of the Year’ is inspired by Edie Sedgwick and ‘Last Ride’ is about Nico). ‘Drunk in LA’ is a lyrical standout about a fading star, while the synth-pop ‘Woo’ and the shoegaze b-side ‘Alien’ are highlights on what is Beach House’s lushest album yet.

7 is a reflection on the beauty of darkness, and it pulls it off effortlessly, solidifying Beach House as the essential dream-pop act of the 21^st century.

Stephen Ong

14 Isolation by Kali Uchis

Tyler the Creator was right in ‘After the Storm’: “My chocolate wit’ yo’ vanilla, uh,” Kali Uchis’ Isolation is the finest vanilla of 2018. Her voice is fluffy, not offensive at all; with all the nostalgic tunes, she delights you with sexiness, everything is just like a dream in the 80s. Her rhythms are mainstream enough for commercialisation, while she manages to combine her art and philosophy in songs, she could be popular yet not cheesy, and she proves that it is possible to please the critiques while being crowd-pleasing.

Comparing to her last EP, Por Vida, Isolation is definitely better in production and the diverse of music – not to say that Por Vida is a terrible EP, it’s definitely good enough for someone who is new in the industry, but don’t you find majority of its songs sound basically the same? Isolation is more memorable, it’s a bold and successful try-out – it’s involved in genre: pop, soul, jazz, reggae, mixed with Latin elements – the psychedelic and synth-pop elements in this album are especially well-combined, making this album a fun experiment that can be easily understood by everyone.

However, it’s undeniable that few tracks fall short, or are even straight-up boring when you listen to a second time. The reason for this is because her voice is too weak – which you can describe as dreamy, but it could also feel like an annoying mosquito buzzing around your ears.

I’m excited, as well as worried, to see what Kali Uchis will come up with next.

Yudy Wu

13 DAYTONA by Pusha T

His first release since his sophomore solo album in 2015, Pusha T pushes Grammy-nominated DAYTONA to the forefront of true, pure hip hop with a new style of release. Instead of dropping a 20+ track album to juice up the streaming numbers, a common practice among many of today’s artists, Push has chosen the route revitalised by the owner of his label: Kanye West. King Push has released a short, clean and masterfully produced album with seven crisp tracks, all under 3:30 minutes, and still manages to get two A-list features: Rick Ross and Ye himself, who also served as the executive producer in his studio in Wyoming.

The record comes complete with soulful melodies and a salt-of-the-earth instrumental on ‘Come Back Baby’; a slow, sultry hook in Spanish on ‘Santeria’, and excellent use of sonic negative space on the final track, ‘Infrared’, where the lack of sound speaks as much as any noise made. The stylistic variation in these three tracks combined with the gritty opener ‘If You Know You Know’ and the quiet aggression on ‘Hard Piano ‘make for a diverse set of tracks that are the perfect length: DAYTONA is an album (and yes, I maintain it’s an album and not an EP, according to other critics) that you can digest beginning to end in one sitting, and each track has replay value. Hopefully setting a trend for shorter, well produced songs in a tidy package.

Haroon B Khan

12 OIL OF EVERY PEARL’S UN-INSIDES by SOPHIE

SOPHIE’s OIL OF EVERY PEARL’S UN-INSIDES is a complex, colourful and hard-hitting musical experience. The Transgressive Records affiliate makes music rooted in themes of queerness, love, and alienation, wielding plastic-sounding synthesisers and warped samples to achieve her distinctly abrasive sound.

From the wistful euphoria of ‘It’s Okay to Cry’ to the wild kinkiness of ‘Ponyboy’, the album defies any semblance of convention to create its unique atmosphere. Tracks such as ‘Is It Cold in the Water’ and ‘Pretending’ offer intensity through introspection, while ‘Immaterial’ is a straight-up banger; a showcase of SOPHIE’s energetic production skills previously heard under names such as Charli XCX, Vince Staples, and even Madonna. Though something of a mad scientist when it comes to production, the abstract and outlandish musicality of this album does not detract from its pop influence. SOPHIE leaves no room for pretension in the musical worlds she builds.

While the album isn’t the most cohesive listen in its overall narrative, the sheer scope of the songwriting and sound design results in a wide palette of musical flavours, building bridges between commercial pop and the new wave of deconstructed club music. SOPHIE is a genre-bending champion of experimentalism and OIL OF EVERY PEARL’S UN-INSIDES is all the proof we need.

George Stamp

11 Pray for the Wicked by Panic! At the Disco

Starting out as a blink-182 inspired pop-punk band, Panic! At the Disco (P!ATD) has since evolved away from this genre, and their latest release, Pray for the Wicked, further demonstrates their shift in musical style.

The album shows heavy Broadway influences as a lot of the songs (such as ‘High Hopes’) were written around the time that P!ATD’s frontman (and only member) Brendon Urie made his Broadway debut in ‘Kinky Boots’. The theatrical vibe in the album is evident through the featuring of an entire orchestra, with lots of different instruments from brass to strings. Theatrical vocal training for ‘Kinky Boots’ has also been utilised by Brendon Urie in this album, which has showcased his ability to hit ridiculously high notes – arguably his strongest vocal performance to date. In Pray for the Wicked, P!ATD also did not shy away from catchy pop sounds, evidently in lead single ‘Say Amen (Saturday Night)’, ‘Dancing’s not a Crime’, and ‘One of the Drunks’.

Far from selling out, Brendon Urie demonstrates in this album his shape-shifting musical ability: Pray for the Wicked is radio friendly, appealing to both general audience and their pop-punk fan base.

Penny Dinh