• A classic, a staple, a little bit of a letdown.

    Death Grips is known for their harrowingly comedic lyricism and industrial instrumentation—this self-titled track is a proper representation of both of those things. Though context within the album can be nourishing, I think many track reviews can benefit from actually taking the song out of the record it was included in, if any. This track particularly stood out for a review to me because it seems as though Burnett (MC Ride) lost motivation in sections of the song. In fact, this is something I feel happens oddly often, especially with ambitious, experienced creators such as Death Grips. On GNX, for instance, Lamar’s self-titled track seemed to be, to many, a low-light of the album. My interpretation of the almost singing tone of Burnett’s yell, as well as the evident gasps for breath in the ending lines, is that, in this typical nihilist-thanatophilic style, the true beauty of this track was how Ride himself got sick of the message. It’s another level of frustration; whether at society for unresponsiveness, the audience for playing into a capitalist-humanist world by listening to his music, or even to himself for not changing, the epitome of this track was passionate consolidation. Everything was there—the production, the lyrics (the “favorite color” line is definitely a classic), the ideas, the blasé—but the execution dimmed down every bit of those senses, just a little. But, personally, to some extent, that’s the appeal.

  • One song has been stuck in my conscience this holiday season, and it’s Fairytale of New York by Irish folk band The Pogues, featuring Kirsty MacColl. A solemn dance between a presumed couple in the eponymous city, the track tells the story of hope, failure, and the unstable health of love through such times. At once a nostalgia trip, argument, and tearful embrace, the lyrics reflect the complexity of romance in the cruelty of life. The upbeat, floaty instrumental following the rhythm of a waltz reinforces the ultimately hopeful view of the characters, an inspiring outlook for fellow high school seniors such as myself who may soon face failure this Christmas season, with Early Decision and Restrictive Early Action decisions being released through this December. This number will be a comforting reminder that, even if I fall short of my unrealistic dreams (fingers crossed for Yale), I have my friends and family to dance through this sorrow with.

  • Atrocity Exhibition is a tumultuous, turbid, rueful magnum opus by hip-hop extraordinaire, Detroit’s Danny Brown. This album indeed emanates in its unicity. From the jeering, grimy production to Brown’s blithe, scathing delivery, the record is one-of-a-kind in its chaotic clatter and eccentric impact. Beyond the music, this release revolutionized the measurement of discographic legacy and questions the very meaning of success.

    The album begins with “Downward Spiral,” a wonky, country-esque beat met with Brown’s signature high-pitched, muddled accent. A “downward spiral” is something that Brown has talked about in the past, and both the orchestration and the topics discussed are great indicators of the progression of the album. It’s an incredibly interesting track, and though not the focus of the album, shared the redeeming qualities that the rest of the album shines greater. It functions more as an intro, getting into “Tell Me What I Don’t Know,” a content-rich song about the deficiencies Danny has made an effort to express to his audience.

    A personal highlight of the tracklist, “Rolling Stone” begins with a mellow, almost mocking chorus, with smoothing vocal progressions in the back met with resonant guitar loops. It is met with similarly odd verses from Brown, which I didn’t get much out of, but its careless sentiment emphasizes the vocals in the chorus well. Next, one of the most popular songs off of the album, “Really Doe.” This song is an exceptional representation of not only Brown’s direct ability to rap, but capacity to collaborate. All features were mixed in well, from Kendrick Lamar’s chorus to Ab-Soul’s storytelling. Most surprisingly, the culmination of this track, amongst three legends of the rap community, was Earl Sweatshirt’s verse. All three features were great, but Sweatshirt’s was far more passionate and dominant than I, and many listeners, expected. Nonetheless, the track itself was not a lowlight by any means.

    The track “Lost” was redeeming as well, with some sort of old-fashioned vocal sample creating great grounds for a rhythmic, catchy beat. Next, “Ain’t it Funny” was a fanatical, panicked, dynamic song, with incredibly interesting instrumentals and a phenomenal ability by Brown to not only withstand the oddness of the track, but complement it. This is something that is really seen throughout the album, however here it is even more clear. Continuing this drug-theme tracklist, “Golddust” is just as wonky and explicit as its successor, a track I enjoyed more (though heavily dissuaded by its core content), “White Lines.” Here, Brown’s impulsive vocal streaks, as though they were paint on a canvas, very much complemented with a parallel production. This is something that I feel Brown does well overall on the album, and something that is often a disconnect between an artist and their creation. With industrial conditions often distancing many rappers or singers from their production, a common gripe I find with much music that isn’t thought out enough is that there is some sort of clash between both of these things. Brown, however, bridges these things together exceptionally—possibly due to a closer connection with the creation of both vocals and production.

    “Pneumonia” was an interesting song that, truthfully, I didn’t attract to much when listening. However, I do acknowledge that the beat was well-developed and the lyricism is some of the best on the project. After this track is definitely one of my favorites on the album. “Dance In The Water” is exactly how it sounds, and serves as a sort of “jam” track off of Atrocity. I also felt that it was a sort of turning point track within the fragmented storyline of the album.

    In the last five tracks, two specifically were standouts. “When It Rain,” a track teased prior to the release of this album, was one of Brown’s most solid jobs in delivery and expression. “Hell For It” was also quite a telling ending track.

    Closing remarks are a little more particular. First of all, I would like to say that I didn’t really get much value out of the frequent lyrics regarding bad decisions of Danny’s past; it felt more as if it was reflective for himself. Nevertheless, the execution is notable, and much of this record still stands as a significant influence in the Experimental Hip-Hop genre. It is also to be noted that the desperation and emotion put into this record was not summoned from inexistence; personally, I believe that this area of Brown’s discography was the time when he was most depressed and confused. However, maybe unfortunately, those same spiraling emotions gave way to a noteworthy creation, especially among music critics alike. Altogether, this album’s prestige within the critic community is by no means a mistake, and I personally found the influential oddities of its work intriguing.