6. tyler, the creator - wolf//roc marciano - "the sacrifice (prod. madlib)"

Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day.  Not best. Not most influential.  Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow.  Just my favorite, ranked in order.

6. tyler, the creator – wolf

It’s hard to define the change Tyler, The Creator has gone through this year as a “transformation,” because he’s still retained many of the elements that vaulted him to fame in 2011 with “Yonkers” and Bastard: he’s still bitingly sarcastic, prone to emotional outbursts, and hardly afraid of the controversial.  It’s like watching a ten-year-old mind loose in the body of an immensely talented twenty-year-old.  But since his days as parent-adversary and troubled-role-model, Tyler has made massive steps forward as an artist.  He’s relying less on the Eminem-esque shock value of his lyrics, and instead taking advantage of his unique skill set as a producer/rapper.  It might sound like a disadvantage that Tyler never formally learned how to play a musical instrument, but it’s certainly playing to his strengths now; the types of chord progressions he’s using in his music are jazzy, funky, and like nothing else in hip-hop. Wolf is the most mature piece of music Tyler has ever made, and the straight-out-my-basement homespun sound of Odd Future’s earlier music has evolved into something more distinct and polished.  It’s a concept album, but the story isn’t what carries the album – in fact, several of the best songs off Wolf (like Tyler’s interpolation of Eminem’s “Stan”, “Colossus”) don’t even fit into the narrative.  Instead, it’s Tyler’s charisma: even beyond the steps he’s taken as a rapper, and even without the violence that laced most of his earlier songs, Tyler’s growl is gripping.  This is an artist coming into his own.

6. roc marciano – “the sacrifice (prod. madlib)”

The sample driving “The Sacrifice” forward doesn’t waste any time sputtering to a start like a ‘90s RZA loop, it jerks right into action.  It’s uncharacteristically soulful for a Roc Marciano backdrop, but that’s a role Madlib’s been providing for Freddie Gibbs lately too, so no surprises there.  It’s also not a surprise that Roc is just as sharp lyrically as he’s been on virtually every single song he’s ever made; who else can rap about the same things over and over on every song so consistently while mixing it up just enough to be interesting every time?  What is surprising, though, is how well all the elements of this song come together.  The eight-note bassline, the loop drifting in and out of audible range, the shrill trumpet notes dancing into the beat every few measures.  It’s all impeccably polished (for a rapper who revels in the grittiness of New York, that’s a nice change), and very soulful material.  Who else you know pulling out lines like “My main ho, cop me the Range Ro’, she say no/I need one for every color in the rainbow”?

12. roc marciano - the pimpire strikes back//mac miller - "the star room (prod. randomblackdude)"

Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day.  Not best. Not most influential.  Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow.  Just my favorite, ranked in order.

12. roc marciano – the pimpire strikes back

In an industry that’s increasingly leaning towards style over talent and “indelible” over “solid”, there’s something to be said for an artist like Roc Marciano who clearly cares a lot more about how many compound rhymes he can jam into a rhyme than how many radio plays he gets.  It’s like “fuck you, pay me” without the money.  His rhyming is dense, cerebral material, polishing his gangster narratives into a slick sheen.  Longevity in hip-hop seems more and more like it rotates around instant recognition, but Roc’s taken an entirely different path from some of his peers to equal impact.  He’s stretching lyricism to its very edges by chopping bars up into four or five rapid-fire non sequitor rhymes rather than trying to jam in meanings.  What does that mean for his music?  It means that he’s creating some of the most powerful images in hip-hop without ever directly telling you anything.  The subtlety of that approach alone is applaudable in a time when the route to impact increasingly seems to be leading artists to brute force, but it’s even more impressive given that Roc’s verbal images are often so unforgettable.  On “Doesn’t Last”: “Used to book niggas for chains and leathers/Cook ‘caine, now I grab the wood-grain in the seven.”  If Marci Beaucoup was his production album, Pimpire is the project where he’s really flexing his chops lyrically.  Rest assured, it shows.

12. mac miller – “the star room (prod. randomblackdude)”

Clearly Mac Miller didn’t pay attention in high school English class, because he stuck the thesis of his album right at the top, murmuring, “Can’t decide if you like all the fame/Three years ago to now, it’s just not the same/I’m looking my window ashing on the pane/Shit, wonder if I lost my way.”  The tumbling, meandering psychedelics of “The Star Room” couldn’t be a more perfect encapsulation of Mac Miller’s reinvention as a rapper.  The type of fame Mac’s enjoyed up until this point has to be an uncomfortable one, where you know you’re divisive by your very nature and you slide right into a racial and generational demographic split.  So to see him bust out of the gates of his album with a song like this, where he’s baring himself (racial problems, parental splits, major label futures, his hometown, selling out, and drugs) to a listener base that’s primarily composed of white teenage girls – that’s ballsy.  But not only is it ballsy from the Pittsburgh boy, it’s just a simply excellent rap song.  It’s hardly efficient in gunning down Mac’s demons, but his newfound ability (seriously, what has he been doing the last few years) to draw drugged-out snapshots and scenarios is what’s suddenly made him such a compelling artist to listen to.  Listening to Mac’s music has been a tedious exercise since 2010, but it’s hard now not to get dragged along by the current here.   

reloaded - roc marciano

Movie dialogue samples, unrecognizable chopped-up soul samples, gritty imagery, and New York’s hip-hop scene have all declined in popularity and influence since their heyday with Jay-Z and Nas in the mid-‘90s.  Sure, A$AP Mob and Pro Era are making moves to place New York squarely back in hip-hop’s spotlight, and everyone appreciates a nice soul sample, whether it’s from a booming Just Blaze heater or a soulful RZA production.  But the times where menacing Mafioso rappers like Wu-Tang’s Raekwon defined hip-hop are long gone, replaced (for better or worse) in the mainstream by the likes of Kanye West and Drake.  Roc Marciano, however, is unapologetic in his throwback approach to his music - he’s straight out of the ‘90s drug game.  Hip-hop has seen plenty of revivalists, particularly in the last few years, but few are as talented or authentic as the former Flipmode Squad member. Reloaded is one of the finest works of music to emerge from New York in recent memory, and it’s almost flawless – all that holds it back are hardcore rap’s inherent limitations.

Far from fictitious, the cars attract the bitches, I hear the whispers, my palms got the blisters.

It’ll almost certainly take several listens of a given song to begin to understand the depth of Marciano’s wordplay.  His endless barrage of internal rhymes and Curren$y-esque pop culture references (Roc seamlessly name-drops Tyson Beckford, Robert White, and Russell Westbrook within five bars on “Not Told”) are the trademarks of one of the most unique and singularly talented lyricists alive.  It’s like watching a rapper go “22 Twos” - except for 55 minutes of vividly violent imagery and twisting lyricism.  Marciano’s rapping voice is menacing, but not in the same off-the-hook manner of rappers like ScHoolboy Q.  Roc is scary, but it’s more “mob boss” than “crazy druggie” or “street gangster.”  On the hook of “Pistolier,” Marciano snarls, “Bust a move, make a shoe tear, take off your ear like a souvenir, swing from the chandelier, Richard Gere with the gear, Ric Flair.”  He constantly twists pronunciations to achieve his signature assonance, but Marciano’s delivery is too smooth to feel forced.  At one point halfway through “Death Parade,” Roc raps “They see us wearing chains and amulets, handle this, evangelist condo in Los Angeles,“ ripping off an absurd sequence of rhymes without any effort.  His uniqueness goes without saying.

If Marciano’s phenomenal lyricism wasn’t enough, his production is custom-made for his rapping - and it shows.  His ability to take soul samples and chop them and flip them into unrecognizable, but brilliant, beats is almost unparalleled.  On “Peru,” Roc Marciano takes a jazzy piano riff and flips it and a guitar note into an instrumental that it’s hard to imagine anyone else rapping on, while earlier on “Not Told” he made a guitar riff chop not unlike Domo Genesis’ “Power Ballad”.  Roc Marciano provides possibly the best instrumental on the album on the best song of the album, “Deeper,” where he chops up a sample into a melodic murmur over his own virtuoso lyricism.  Reloaded’s distinctive lack of typical New York boom-bap drums is worth noting, but Marciano’s rapping makes the quiet drums a minor concern.  If anything, it’s another defiant touch from a rapper who’s made a career out of disregarding every single mainstream hip-hop trend of his time.

Kendrick Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d city has been rightfully applauded for its emotionally volatile portrayal of life in California’s Compton.  Roc Marciano’s Reloaded will likely (and less rightfully) be ignored, despite its similar achievements.  It’s not tied together by skits, and it isn’t told in a strictly concept album structure like Kendrick’s latest is.  However, it’s certainly a compelling account of the drug game, and when he asserts that “it all boils down to that green” during the hook of “Death Parade,” few listeners will be caught up in doubt.  Respect and admiration are far more likely responses to one of this young decade’s most phenomenal albums.

11/17/12.