I’m not enthusiastic about the ranking or scoring conversations; I’m not above it by any means, it’s just not really how I frame my music interests. Besides, you don’t need my takes on all the top records of the year that you've already rinsed to death (it’s also January and every year-end list dropped on December 1st). You’ve already read and talked enough about Alfredo and A Written Testimony, argued about Boldy James’ The Price of Tea in China vs. Westside Gunn’s Pray for Paris. All of those projects have earned their praise and exposure, but my favorite parts are the deeper dives, the ways in which you discover and become infatuated with new projects and artists both old and new, hidden gems and those hiding in plain sight. With that in mind, I wanted to shed some light on a handful of albums that had an impact on me this year, in no particular order, bright spots that didn’t get enough coverage in a truly gluttonous year for hip hop.
Kamaiyah | Oakland Nights
The Bay Area’s own Kamaiyah has been ascendant since the explosive mixtape One Night in the Ghetto burst on to the scene in 2016 -- the lead single “Fuck It Up” with YG is a punchy Oakland banger, and that’s not even the first song I would recommend. On Oakland Nights, a collaboration with East Oakland native Capolow, Kamaiyah states her case for what she’s been trying to teach the world for years: there was nothing wrong with the fundamental sounds of 90s West Coast rap and g-funk. The production is the sophisticated evolution of those foundations, helping to establish the proverbial new generation, yet distinctly rooted in the thirty-plus years of Bay Area rap history. You can’t fake this level of authenticity.
The album stems from the single “Digits,” originally from Kamaiyah’s stunning full-length Got It Made released half a lifetime ago (February 2020). Capolow can certainly stand on his own and brings a spot-on melodic energy that elevates far past his “aye aye!” call-out (see the “Drip” video). Oakland Nights is full of kick-back jams of the utmost balance and polish, as many tracks for backyard Backwoods and forties as for cruising around the neighborhood. “Gimme Dat” is a sugary little slap that plays like the Bay’s version of “No Brainer,” and the title track is flawlessly balanced and endlessly replayable, boasting a feature from Oakland legend Keak Da Sneak. This is the record that everyone needs but no one seemed to be looking for, and reminds me of the mood found on the YG-led mixtape California Livin, released half a decade ago.
I’ll also use this as an excuse to highlight one of my favorite tracks of the year, “1-800-IM-HORNY”, the NSFW single that should have dominated summer parties; let’s hope those days return soon. Kamaiyah also stealthily released a third full-length of the year, December’s No Explanations, continuing the nuanced blend of sounds that she’s been domineering.
For beginners, start with A Good Night in the Ghetto, front to back.
GILA | Energy Demonstration
I was introduced to Denver producer GILA through his work in the gloomy hip hop duo Gorgeous Children, whose 2013 and 2016 EPs are releases I hold close to my heart, even though I can’t exactly put them on at a party. GILA’s trademark hip hop production is deep and dissonant, equipped with mix-perfect 808 bass and impeccable hi hat work that never dominates the sound. You’ll find plenty of those elements on his debut LP Energy Demonstration, like the standout “Buffalo 2 Miami,” but overall this is a different beast, fitting well alongside DJs like Machinedrum and the Dirtybird roster who draw as much from UK Bass as they do from hip hop. You can feel the nuances of house elements and club melodies come through on “Aloe Drip,” which hides near the end of this record.
Only the top echelon of producers can create this kind of mood, an atmosphere that’s both intimate and expansive, a space that’s both empty and crowded. Songs like “Perpetual Stew” and “Stretch Cord” appear at first glance to be nearly deserted, but evolve into exquisite layering and a showcase of meticulous production -- the latter puts Clams Casino to shame. The rolling snare perfection on “Death Slump” is a gift to be cherished. I’m fully entranced by the nightmare-Top Gun sound of “Late Night Fighter,” a track that gets more impressive with each listen. “85 Rider Original” is a smooth, bleak odyssey, and may even top “Rider 3 (Absent Roof),” my favorite cut from last year’s single series Three Riders.
Like all GILA releases in the past, this album will remain embedded in my rotation for cold dreary days all winter. I’d be remiss if I didn’t also highlight GILA’s production on Denver rapper JORDY’s delightfully dark 4980 and Mania Part 1. I hope we get another Gorgeous Children record soon.
For beginners, start with Trench Tones before graduating to Gorgeous Children’s ICE.
Namir Blade | Aphelion’s Traveling Circus
Nashville underground enigma Namir Blade created a thoroughly rewarding journey in Apehlion’s Traveling Circus, an escapist album in which I found constant solace. We open with the science fiction skit “Foreword” that sets the stage for the eponymous space circus, painting a scene of street haggling for bioware upgrades that leaves you reeling, trying to decipher where this trip is headed. There’s a song on here for every style, alongside world-building skits that are humorous and self aware. It’s an eclectic, fully fleshed out vision that stands tall with a 48-minute runtime, somehow reminding me of last year’s mysterious video game The Outer Wilds.
This record is one you need to let wash over you slowly. Infectious jazzy jaunts like “Pace” are weighed against the simplified-industrial darkness of tracks like “Patlabor,” which segues into the melancholic deep space piano interlude of “Science.” The emotionally raw “Homesick” is heavy and exploratory, developing into a juke-influenced ballad that’s easily one of his most memorable songs. I find myself dialing into “The Head” and all of its beat switch-ups; the third act of that track is especially powerful. “The Mind” leans on a dissonant sample of Slum Village’s “Fall In Love,” while the sparse, lonely “Space Ghost” is a lo-fi beat filled with layered crooning. If you can’t find something on this album to be entranced by, then you might be heartless or lack imagination.
This release is difficult to pin down or describe fully in this format, but Namir Blade should be appreciated for his breadth and ability to nimbly juggle so many styles without feeling disjointed. It can be jarring coming back to reality after Aphelion's Traveling Circus; as the outro says, “somebody’s hitting my line with that bullshit as we speak.”
For beginners, start with this album and work your way backwards chronologically. Last year’s Scatterbrain channels Aesop Rock and early Earl Sweatshirt, and 2017’s Covered in Soul is a jazz-forward beat tape with mesmerizing production.
CRIMEAPPLE - If I Don’t See You in Paradise
Born in Colombia but raised in New Jersey, CRIMEAPPLE is rapidly establishing himself as a standout voice in underground hip hop. It’s not because he pays homage to the roots of the genre by keeping his beats to bare-bones soul and jazz samples with boom bap drum patterns, although he does that phenomenally well. It’s not just because his technical delivery and prowess presents a deep appreciation for generations of East Coast and NYC flows, although that’s equally accurate. It’s because he’ll fight through any perceived lack of street credit to consistently lay out the best he has to offer, no frills or gimmicks, always showcasing that he’s a singular MC worth reckoning with.
On Paradise, CRIMEAPPLE rides stripped-down production that shines with its own cadence, with simple or no drumwork at all. It sways from the swampy “Honey” to the sharp strings and kick on “Ocean” to the soothing keys on the closing “Hold On.” He’s more Roc Marciano than Action Bronson, especially if we’re talking about the fluidity of his flow. I highlighted “Camouflage” on November’s playlist by pointing out how CRIMEAPPLE wields his bilingual command like a sharp weapon, and you can see that displayed on this record on “Pistachios” and the eerily beautiful “Paradise.” Lines bend around the beat so well that quoting them never quite captures the impact of the delivery.
This 2020 release also represents a rising trend that I’d like to support, of extremely powerful six-to-nine track releases. Let’s trim the extra throwaways and avoid the bloated deluxe albums. CRIMEAPPLE crafted a real gem with this record, and the vinyl release is gorgeously raunchy. I can’t wait to hear what he has in store for ‘21.
For more, start with the robust Aguardiente produced by Big Ghost, followed by all 2020 releases.
Alchemist | The Food Villain
I did say there was no need to talk further about the highest-profile records of 2020, and Alchemist’s year included Alfredo, Conway the Machine’s LULU, and Boldy’s The Price of Tea in China. But hidden amongst his rise to unassailability is this loose and self-aware batch of beats centered around Al’s role in Action Bronson’s Vice show Fuck That’s Delicious. It’s both an indictment against his characterization as an uncultured curmudgeon and a jab against himself, while continuing to show that he’s one of the most consistently solid hip hop producers today. Al pokes fun at the way he’s been portrayed in the show, as a dusty, gaunt character who can barely feign interest in the high-end and indigenous local cuisine he gets paid to eat on camera. This record has its share of hilarious moments, like when Action Bronson, after his verse on “I Hate Everything,” ribs Alchemist for lying about tasting some dish - “you did not try it.”
While Alchemist still sources his distinctive carefully snipped jazz and soul samples, Food Villain is essentially a fun project for his own amusement, borne out of countless hours spent in the studio, and luckily he decided to share it with us. The dark, grimy production on “The Angry Guy” brings a frigid minimal beat that could have made its way onto a dozen different rappers’ records this year, but instead, it’s a throwaway on a borderline joke album. Not everything has to be hyped up for years or take itself so seriously -- there’s no reason this record needs to exist, which is why I enjoy it so much. “Oh there’s duck.”
For beginners, Hip Hop Twitter should be able to give you its take. One of my personal favorites is Curren$y’s Covert Coup, all produced by Alchemist.
seeyousoon | VIDÉ
We can start with my brief assessment of their single “BEN AFFLECK” when I included it on October’s playlist: “Floridian group seeyousoon, with all nine of their disparate members, is putting out some truly original work that I haven’t fully wrapped my head around yet. It’s frightening how club-worthy this track is, and their debut album VIDÉ is deep and wild.”
Everything about this album just clicks; it’s sharply produced, diverse, and thrillingly satisfying from start to finish. It weaves between the certified banger “BEN AFFLECK” and the smooth neo-house grooves of “BLUE CHORD” with veteran ease. Somehow the slow dance ballad sounds of “ICFWT” and “47” fit nicely next to the City Morgue-type shouting on “SHUT UP” and “EVERY TIME I DIE.” At times they bring to mind the most nimble moments of Injury Reserve with a dash of peak Plastic Little, although I could probably do without the all caps titles.
What seeyousoon excels at is allowing each member to showcase their own voice, without conflicting agendas or individual stars trying to steal the spotlight. The mosaic is powerful and cohesive, greater than the sum of its parts. Pick a track at random and you’ll see an equally compelling representation of what this collective has to offer, yet it will only be one of many faces they wear shockingly comfortably. VIDÉ is the type of head-turning debut that could propel these youngsters to a bright, fruitful future.
For beginners, you’re already at the start of their discography.
Bzkt. | I Don’t Know Anyone
Hailing from the Seattle area, bedroom rapper-producer Bzkt is carving out his own lane of openly depressed catharsis. As he says on “November,” “I don’t trust nobody so I rarely speak,” a sentiment expressed in openly harsh detail in this interview. He has the ability to straddle that line between slurred delivery and clever wordplay, with a varied bouncy flow that veers into weird at all the right times. In some ways he’s the introverted antithesis to massive collectives like Pro Era or Odd Future. With mixtape titles like Suicidal Tommy and We Are All Fucked, it’s no surprise that his sound is distinguished by heavily compressed 808 bass, dismal lyrics, touches of rainy lofi production, and a hefty dose of pessimism.
On I Don’t Know Anyone, Bzkt only climbs halfway out of the darkness, opening with the title track that progresses into a lone acoustic guitar sample and minimal drumwork. The production is spacier, subtly melodic, and a lot more sample-driven than before, on full display with “Tim Burton Movie.” “Blue Nokia” is a powerful cut that glides through the night, similar to the jazz trumpet sample that kicks off “05 Acura” accompanied by the line “I’m tryna change my Acura to something accurate.” Each branch of his style is on full display and he’s taken each one up another notch; this record might be his best work yet, and he’s showing no signs of slowing down.
Bzkt’s adeptly produced approach is constantly lodged in my rotation, and he has continued to grow into his sound. Luckily for us, he had an especially prolific year, also dropping 27 (check the perfect mood creation on “Nightmares”) and Save Yourself, which returns to form with tinny soul keyboards, downtuned vocals, and booming 808s.
For beginners, start with this album, “Fold, “Everytime,” and “In The Summer I Fall.”
January 20th, 2021.
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