What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
______________________________________________________
It's of no surprise that the majority of mainstream rappers lead faux lives. The wherewithal on their reputation lies in their ability to masquerade them or, simply, in the new era of social media expressiveness, come to terms with their fans simply not caring. Trap, Pop Rap, and Alternative R&B hinge on such displays of confidence, flexing dubious braggadocio more as a marketing ploy and less as a personality feature. Like many newcomers begging for notoriety, Lil Darkie is one such emcee whose brazen character is more forged than genuine. This Does Not Exist is a well-crafted record on tropes that garner scrutiny, be it in the explosive and trendy Trap Metal front ('Move Because You Can,' 'Blood Money') or the schizophrenic juxtaposition between side ventures like the Alternative Rock of 'Where Is Darkie?' the Garage Punk of 'I Am Gonna Stop Doing Drugs,' and the Boom Bap of 'Wrap Music.' I'm reminded, in these examples alone, of Post Malone and his backslided attempts at being a multi-dimensional, multi-talented artist.
Lil Darkie fairs worse because of his vocals and flow. The former embodying the dying presence of Nerdcore circa 2005, the latter using prompt and prudent alliteration. Each, while providing a unique pairing with Trap Metal, doesn't exactly correlate to an easy, enjoyable listen. However, what reveals Lil Darkie's ersatz disposition the most can, ironically, be seen on This Does Not Exist's best track; 'Composition XI.' It is unlike any other track, not just in tone, inviting some striking Conscious Hip-Hop that draws similarities to the most sobering Mac Miller, Injury Reserve, or Brockhampton cuts, but also the quality. 'Composition XI' is where Lil Darkie feels most comfortable, you can hear it in the production and veracity. The Noise-scrapped brass providing an extended outro is icing on the cake. That's the real Darkie, it's a shame the rest of This Does Not Exist gives credence to a sham that might, in regards to garnering attention with the mainstream, pay off.
D
______________________________________________________
2019 | Noise Pop | Listen
GRUNGE FOR COMMERCIALS APPEALING TO BEATNIKS
Empath's debut has quite the apt title. At a brief, hasty 27 minutes, Active Listening knows you're strapped for time. Our modern society of constant interconnectivity doesn't allow for much solitude, and the unchecked clamor Empath enforce breathes new life into Pop Punk and what it means to be incisive and concise. Songs, sometimes naggingly so, collide into one another like a crash at a demolition derby, moderately destabilizing momentum. The infrequent moments of respite ('IV,' 'Hanging Out Of Cars'' second half), despite being instrumental, are too both rowdy and impatient. Active Listening is a blistering record that'll arrest attention, if only momentarily as ambition isn't one of Empath's strong suits.
The Pop appeal and peppy melodies help hits like 'Soft Shape,' 'Hanging Out Of Cars,' and 'Rodeo Fever' stand out. When that's lacking, so too is the song, as seen on the all bark and no bite of 'Pure Intent' and 'Rowing.' I'm reminded of another 2019 debut in Collider's -><- a=""> in these instances where scattershot guitars breaking fingers with their frantic play conceal the lack of refinement and nuance. Comparisons elsewhere are bountiful given Noise Pop's rich history. For recent acts, Catherine Elicson's brusque vocals liken themselves to Weatherday's Come In or Car Seat Headrest, while the overall pandemonium in short bursts draw similarities to No Age or Cymbals Eat Guitars. 'Soft Shape,' my personal favorite for its swirling array of whistling synthesizers and jaunty tempo, recalls Alvvays at their most ardent. Active Listening is a record worth investing in, for it expects nothing in return from the listener.
C+
______________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment