Lucas Foster sets shooters up on paid internships.
Most of the rappers I cover work in one medium, that medium being laying vocals on top of 808s and synths. Yet over the past year I’ve grown comfortable with rappers telling me they must be categorized as “artists.” Rap is now a form of visual performance art, a 24/7 maintenance of an internet persona, an embellishment on subjectivity that takes place in the hidden vacuum nowhere space of social media.
Adjust your eyes for a second. Squint and rub and focus. Sweat a bit and shake your head back and forth. Okay, maybe now you’re prepared for a Rhys Langston visual EP. Rhys should not ever be categorized as a rapper, nor would he ever be categorized as one. He is a multidisciplinary artist more versed in philosophy and literature than you and blessed with the ability to flip his perspective into abstract rap music that bleeds into poetry and the future. The TC Wash Suite Visual EP is artistically ambitious and sonically sound. Like all great literature, it’s a psychedelic twist on the mundane, a day in the life in the gig economy that no clips through tents and street fridges and finds no ingratiating characters or happy story lines from the beach to Silver Lake.
It’s a bit more than I expected to weigh with, and probably a bit more than most rap critics try to grade, but it’s great, and you should tap in.
