Tosten Burks doesn’t need directions.
Nearly two thousand miles away from the mob of Los Angelinos chasing Kendrick Lamar’s Reebok Pump-sponsored semi-trailer, Chicago’s steeziest mastiffs cruise around the west side shit-talking our founding fathers to a decidedly smaller audience. Leading up to this summer’s 2K47 mixtape, Hurt Everybody—teenage internal rhymer Carl in the denim and double collar, nasally pocket rocket Supa Bwe in the camo, grotesque beatsmith Mulatto laying low on a skateboard—leave the studio for once to film their first video. It finds them typically lonely, rolling up habits, speaking languages incomprehensible to plastics, conjuring magic from the year 2060 over the nastiest whiny synth line since A$AP Rocky’s Pretty Flacko sequel.
Trunk rattling cosmic futurism canvases the entire internet.tumblr.com these days, but Hurt Everybody pops because there actually seems to be, if not a method, a mythology behind the mushroom’d madness. As he reminds us, Supa was born pragmatic; he’s tactical; he knows what he’s doing. The eastern religious signifiers and post-apocalyptic imagery serve a vulnerable yearning to transcend a city whose CNN nickname is offensive, but that nonetheless demands flexing in flak jackets. It helps that Carl’s fiddly monotone slur perfectly grounds his partner’s screams and wails. Ballin this hard is universal, regardless of your MVP choice.
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