- For many artists, recording an album is an innately emotional process, a tangible document of their mental state at the time. This couldn't be truer for Earl Sweatshirt, whose promising start with rap collective Odd Future was cut short by two years at a Samoan boarding school. Debut album Doris, released after Earl's return, boiled down his youthful anger into something much darker. This sacrifice of aggression for atmosphere would be taken further still on the bluntly titled I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside, a release dominated by themes of depression and drug abuse with crushing verses to match. The ten minute Solace EP was a final footnote, Earl wading through endless melancholy provoked by the death of his grandmother. If Earl's discography is like diving into a black lake, then Some Rap Songs is the bottom.
At just twenty-five minutes long, Some Rap Songs follows a recent trend of bite-sized hip hop albums, though I'm willing to believe this is purely co-incidental, as Earl's vision here is a million miles away from anything Kanye West is doing. Verses start and end abruptly, choruses are practically non-existent, and most beats consist of nothing more than a roughly chopped loop. Many of these tracks feel more like entries in a diary than fleshed out songs, a sentiment entirely echoed by Earl's lyrics.
Perhaps more interesting than its lyrics is the record's production. Some Rap Songs sounds akin to a faded polaroid, detail aged and obscured. It might seem contradictory, burying one of this generation's best lyricists beneath layers of grainy texture, but the effect it has on Earl's sound is immense. The Mint is deeply sentimental, Nowhere2go all encompassing and bittersweet, these samples carry an inherent emotional weight that's remarkably affecting. When Earl's voice is buried in the mix, the subtleties in his delivery are amplified by their surroundings. As a result these brief tracks hold real depth, gradually revealing themselves through repeated listens.
Naturally, Earl's knack for poetic intimacy plays a large part in this. While these verses might come off as unfinished sketches, there are several lyrical threads which help connect the dots. I get a sense he's embracing being lost, repeating "Please nobody pinch me out this dream" on opener Shattered Dreams, and accepting an unknown future in lead single Nowhere2go. Then there's the concept of death, a topic Earl has repeatedly returned to throughout his work. Here however, it might be more pertinent than ever, as the last three tracks address the passing of his father.
To call Playing Possum an interlude would be a disservice. The cut interlaces speeches from Earl's parents in harrowing juxtaposition. It was intended to be the album's closer, yet his father never had the chance to hear it. I don't usually like to dwell on context but in this case it's impossible not to, especially considering the songs which follow.
Peanut sees Earl at his most vulnerable and desolate, struggling to deliver a verse over gut-wrenching production. Lines like "Picking out his grave couldn't help but feel out of place" are almost unbearable to listen to. Closer Riot! tributes Earl's uncle and African jazz musician Hugh Masekela, who passed two weeks later. The instrumental is joyous in a vacuum, but inexorably soured by its place in the album.
At the beginning of this review, I mentioned how albums can document an artist's mental state. Some Rap Songs epitomizes that. Over fifteen tracks, Earl paints a complex and multi-faceted self-portrait that frames his earlier work as shallow in comparison. It's one of those albums you regret reviewing within a week, or even a month, because there's so much yet to uncover.
It's sure to alienate many on first listen, but those who persevere will find a release that's remarkably honest and human. No hip-hop fan should miss this album, Some Rap Songs is proof of what's possible within the genre, and one of its most unique releases in years.
- Boddhi Farmer.