People change, but seasons don’t. There are only so many phases and in the rap world circa 2014, there is enough diversity where one of the ideas floating around will always be in. This isn’t 90s revival, but the same ideas are applied. Thudding minimal drums, minor chord piano lines roughly 5 degrees sunnier than Mobb Deep, sullen kids hypnotized by words. Knuckleheads return in 20 year cycles, often less.
Herb narrates the bullet-ducking hustler’s anthem. Paranoid and bloodied by references to hearses, shooters, and Dillingers. Rapping like he’s trying to run away, and maybe he is. Earl, self-medicated, absentee dad, replaying his life in more detail than any stupid interview you might read. This just bangs and negates every year-end list that you’ll also read, because this demands inclusion. Someone kickstart these two an album together.
