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.
3. mac miller – watching movies with the sound off
While I’m sure most hip-hop fans aren’t exactly ruing the day that Mac Miller exchanged high school party songs for hazed-out alternative hip-hop, there’s something to be said for Mac’s past. The time he’s been spending hanging out with rappers like Ab-Soul has certainly been rubbing off on Mac lyrically – his rhyming’s shifted to dense and drifting, just like Soulo’s is. But his time making white-girl-wasted anthems has also given Mac a couple one-ups on the competition. For one, he’s capable of letting his rhyming descend into deep wordplay, letting his syllables dictate the rhythm and pacing, while still keeping a tight hold on his listeners with his almost melodic voice control. And another: even post-re-invention, Mac isn’t just another psychedelics-driven experimental rapper more interested in his words than his music, because he’s equipped with a decent set of pipes that he’s not afraid to exercise (“Objects in the Mirror” would be a good stand-alone downbeat song in the mold of tourmates The Internet even if it wasn’t from a rapper). And while Mac sometimes loses himself in whatever weird (and excellent!) musical niche he’s created for himself (Watching Movies With the Sound Off is at least three or four songs too long), it’s hard to deny that he’s a) talented, and b) got a very, very good ear for what makes good music. It’s certainly uncharted territory for Mac both in terms of the music he’s making and the career reinvention he’s undergoing (even Asher Roth never got quite this weird), but so far he’s pulling it off with aplomb.
On “S.D.S.” he’s setting up Biblical metaphors to be juxtaposed aside inanities like the song’s very own hook, murmuring, “Ain’t no party like aristocratic party.” The Action Bronson-assisted “Red Dot Music” sees Mac matching the master of non sequiturs at his art more than ably just a few songs before he goes bar-for-bar alongside Jay Electronica. And even with his newfound ability to rap (seriously, he can fucking rap now) under his arm and an impressive supporting cast (Odd Future, Black Hippy, and Flying Lotus seem pretty sold at the least) behind him, Mac’s still laying out his problems on a musical carpet a lot more compellingly than rappers like Drake or Earl did on their respective albums. He’s alternately existential (“But I’m ready for it all to end, die before tomorrow’s trend/Your life, it all depends on dollars spent and knowledge gained”, “Aquarium”) and self-questioning (“Will he recognize his son when he hears my voice?/I put this music against my life, I think I fear the choice”, “The Star Room”) without ringing false. Watching Movies is just the crowning achievement of a remarkable year for Mac Miller. Just a year ago, he was the guy who was getting sued by Lord Finesse for a mixtape sample and the guy behind aggressively-stereotypical music in fraternities across the country. Now he’s a rapper, producer, and performer extraordinaire making excellent, occasionally brilliant music. How things change.
3. earl sweatshirt – “hive feat. vince staples (prod. matt martians & randomblackdude)”
“Hive” doesn’t really move along as much as it slithers, and it’s not so much menacing as it is ominous. It’s dark and foreboding but it hardly sits back; it’s constantly thrusting forward, jerking along. Earl’s certainly up for the challenge: for once, his growl is elevated above whatever sonic landscape he’s rapping on top of, and to phenomenal effect. The first verse, especially, is a technical dream: “Crack-a-lackin’ like snap, crackle, poppin your ammo off.” Earl rapping “Breaking news, death’s less important when the Lakers lose” is a far more compelling condemnation of the media than most of Kanye’s raging, and who’d think to flaunt their rawness by comparing themselves to a “skinned kneecap on the blacktop”? Sometimes it’s easy to forget just how talented Earl is, but not when he’s snaring the gloom and hopelessness of Los Angeles (”From a city that’s recession-hit/With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in”) as adeptly as he is here. As he puts it: “the description doesn’t fit if not a synonym of menace.”
But even if the song’s practically made for Earl, make no mistake: the real highlight is Vince Staples. It’s hard to imagine Earl’s legs swept out from under him after his two cents, but Vince’s turn is a show-stealer if I’ve ever heard one. While Earl derives his menace from his gravelly voice and Vince’s fellow Cutthroat Boyz members draw theirs from their barely-contained snarls, Vince adopts a different tactic. It’s hard to explain the presence that Vince’s high-pitched drawl has, or what exactly it’s composed of – he’s confident and sounds like he’s on the verge of “unhinged” – but that’s not exactly it. It’s the composure of a mob boss versus that of a one-off criminal, maybe. But whatever it is, Vince is capable of slowing his pace to a deliberate trot without ceding any of it, and across his sixteen he rips whatever Earl contributed to pieces. His first, direct line establishes exactly what grounds we’re working off of (“Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain’t about shit”) before sending off a barrage of threats, chest-puffers, and Californians-only references. When Vince remarks almost offhandedly that “I’m ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is real,” there’s not too much left to question – not that you would be. This is the type of verse that makes careers.
