Deen stays ’bout it.

Hey there. It’s your resident Freddie Gibbs stan again. Call me biased, but Baby Face Killa hasn’t left the rotation since it dropped. But you already knew that. In any event, Fredericko decided to shoot a video for one of my favorite tracks on the mixtape – “BFK.” The second I heard this shit, I knew I was going to dig the rest of the tape. I’m pretty sure I hit repeat on this shit about 6 times (and missed my highway exit, but that’s another story) before I moved on to the next track. Then I did the same shit on that track. But only 4 times. Tragedy.

I could be overreacting here, but the thing about starting your project with a song this strong is that it leads to repeat plays for the entire thing. Even if I didn’t intend to listen to the entire tape in that particular sitting, I’m happy to just zone out to the damn thing until that ONE track rears its head again. I think the vast majority of rappers are well aware of the fact that you need grab folks’ attention from the second they press play, but few of them actually execute this concept well enough. Off the top of my head, I can think of Jay-Z, Nas, T.I., Jeezy and… that’s about it. The people I asked for assistance on Twitter decided to troll me instead. Cunts, the lot of em.

None of this is to say that “BFK” is my favorite track on Baby Face Killa – even if it’s close. Consider this screed more of a tribute to rappers who take the time to make dope intros. It ain’t easy.

Gangsta Gibbs is batting a decent percentage on intros as far as I’m concerned and “BFK” probably ranks a close second to “Midwest Malcolm” off his Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmusik (wrote that from memory – applaud me) mixtape. That song was and remains a fucking monster. You should listen to it if you haven’t. I think many a Gibbs fan became converts off that shit alone. It’s that good. If you listen to that shit and you don’t like it, you’re probably a ho.

And I suppose I ought to say something about the video. Pretty clean, even if you can’t say the same for Gary, IN. That’s one desolate looking place. Also, shouts to the director for working in the local news’ internet report on some cop getting in trouble for letting Gibbs and co use his squad vehicle in the video. That’s some meta, internet, let’s all praise Al Gore type of shit. I almost felt bad for the cop, then I remembered he’s a cop. He’ll probably get some pussy off this shit anyways. I’m almost certain hoodrats are impressed by stupid shit like dirty cops in rap videos. But yeah, respect the authorities – unless you’re cool enough to get them to let you use their vehicles in your videos too. I’m guessing you aren’t so they can fuck your shit up if you act up. Seriously…

Download:
MP3: Freddie Gibbs – “BFK”

If I was a rapper with a budget, I would fork over cash for features to only a few: Freddie Gibbs, Gunplay, Roc Marciano, Kendrick Lamar, or Schoolboy Q. Even when those guys mail in a verse, it still somehow sounds better than 99.9 percent of their peers — so much that I am contractually obligated to post their tracks. This is another one where Gibbs gets Gitmo and talks about guns and good weed and boxcar Chevy’s. And somehow it doesn’t get boring to me. Maybe it gets boring to you, but then again, I’m about to read some Norman Mailer and take a nap so maybe you shouldn’t trust me.

Or maybe you should. I mean, this song does have a Jadakiss cackle as well.

Download:
MP3: 360 ft. Jadakiss & Freddie Gibbs – “Own Thing Remix”

Deen’s been sleeping so much he started getting carded again.

Hola. Hope you enjoyed the holidays. I didn’t – being crippled and all, but that ain’t your problem. Guess it’s back to the grind again for all of us. And by “all of us” that means Gangsta Gibbs too. You must have been insane to think we’d kick 2013 off any other way.

Young Jeezy’s Its Tha World tape dropped in mid-December – you know, around the same time Gangsta Gibbs announced that he was done with CTE. It seemed like an amicable enough split and I hope it stays that way, but I was really hoping that we’d hear some final Jeezy + Gibbs collaborations on the tape. Lo and behold, the tracklist leaked and there was no Gibbs to be found. Tragic, yet understandable.

Nonetheless, I figured that it was less a case of Jeezy just filling the mixtape up with non-Gibbs featuring tracks and more Jeezy straight yanking Gibbs verses off the tape. Given their working relationship over the past two years, there was no way Snowman recorded 17 mixtape tracks without leaving a few spots open for Gibbs. And the minute I saw the tracklist, I took an educated guess at which tracks Gibbs might have been on prior to the split. My number one guess? “Just Got Word” featuring YG and produced by Warren G. I’m sure I tweeted that shit. Go check if you’re that bored.

Anyway, I was right. As always. I’m batting about .900 with rap predictions. Vegas needs to open some sort of line of this kinda shit. Then I’ll finally be able to pay for guilt free sex at the strip club. It only took 3 weeks, but we have a non-Jeezy version of the same track – with YG intact and some Lil Sodi guy. You already know which one I prefer. The same applies to Gibbs’ effort with YG (“Every City“) over DJ Mustard’s instrumental for 2Chainz’s “I’m Different.” Took that one about a month after 2Chainz’s album dropped to leak as well.

Was finna yap a bit more about how Gangsta Gibbs is making a trend of creating slightly more interesting versions of songs by more popular rappers without those songs actually being “freestyles” in the MP3/blog-era sense, but the more interesting takeaway from these two songs is Gibbs’ increasing immersion in the “New California” scene. I don’t expect him to ever stop repping Gary, IN, but 2012 saw Gibbs work with A LOT of cats outta California. From Dom Kennedy to Madlib to YG to Problem to E-40 to DJs Dahi, Fresh and Mustard, Gibbs was hard at work all over Cali. I suppose this trend makes sense given that he’s been in Los Angeles for a good minute now, but it’s an observation that escaped me until I started writing this shit.

The significance of this observation? None whatsoever, but you try writing some shit after taking 2 weeks off, then come see me. In any case, “Do It” (or “Just Got Word” – whatever) remains one helluva smooth track and Gibbs easily has the best verse of anyone who has rapped over it. That said, maybe the real takeaway from this song oughta be that Warren G should really get more production work these days…

Stream/Watch:

“I’m seeing killers cry…with tears in their eyes.”

“I know Mike liked motherfucking fried chicken. I know that for a fact. Finger licking good.”

I never understood the Gibbs is boring slander. He remains the funniest interview I’ve ever had. No one gives less of a fuck and no one does better imitations. Ask to hear his Rick Ross impression. Maybe. Either way, this is a hilarious animated reminiscence about the time Michael Jackson returned to Gary and brought KFC for the entire city. Well played, Pitchfork TV.

Gibbs also dropped a song called “Sing for Me,” on Valentine’s Day that is about as raw as you’d expect a Gibbs Valentine’s Day song to be. This is no Teddy Pendergrass shit. Below the jump, etc.

In what might be the appropriate guest for a podcast named Shots Fired, we had Gangsta Gibbs on this week’s episode. Since Freddie is on the short-list of both best rappers breathing and most knowledgeable sports fans, it seemed only natural that he would help us break down the history of athletes trying to rap. It is a long and storied tradition of failure. Even the greatest athlete rapper of all-time once gave us this. Then again, he also gave us “No Hook.” The episode description is below the jump, along with the MP3.

Peruse the Shots Fired website here. The Facebook page is here. Please like it so I can tell people that my name ain’t Jeff no more — call me Superman emblem.

Download:
MP3: Shots Fired Episode 21: Ballin’ w/ Freddie Gibbs

“Rapper extraordinaire Freddie Gibbs joins MC Nocando & Jeff Weiss to discuss athletes trying to rap. They talk about the Chicago Bears’ “Super Bowl Shuffle,” the LA Rams’ “Ram It,” Darryl Strawberry’s “Chocolate Strawberry,” Shaq’s “You Can’t Stop The Reign,” B-Ball’s Best Kept Secret, Kobe Bryant failed attempt at rap, Deion Sanders’ “Must Be The Money,” Tony Parker ft. Fabolous, Chris Webber ft. Kurupt, Allen Iverson’s “40 Bars,” Metta World Peace’s “Afghan Women,” Kevin Durant’s “Wired,” The Hyperizers’ “Don’t Criticize,” and Delonte West’s KFC Freestyle. Plus, the guys give their reasons for not going to SXSW this year.”

Gangsta Gibbs has laid low for most of the year. But as Chance the Rapper said, everyone dies in the summer, so it’s fitting that he’s returned to the warpath. MadGibbs is finished and ESGN is imminent. And on a day when Kendrick and Q drop one of the hardest songs of the year, Senor Cocaine Pinata returns to remind everyone that he is the best rapper on earth on any given day. I would argue that “187″ is greater than “RIP” and probably as good as another esteemed “187.” Though this version can’t match the magnitude of Boosie and BG’s version, seeing as though it was recorded on the night of the murder that Boosie was tried for. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard a Boosie acapella played before a deadly silent Baton Rouge courtroom. It’s eerie.

The thing about a rapper like Gibbs is that he forces other rappers to step their games up. Think Alley Boy on “Rob Me a Nigga” or Spitta on “Scottie Pippens.” Problem delivers what might be his most nimble verse ever, matching Gibbs bar for bar — if that’s possible. You should also read this XXL interview where Gibbs fires shots at Jeezy because he might be the last completely fearless rapper.

For rap music’s sake, let’s hope that Gangsta Gibbs never finds peace nor serenity. There is something pure and cathartic about watching him spit ferociously over soul beats. Freddie Soprano calling others Big Pussy. What I love about Gibbs is that every song is essentially filled with subliminals at his enemies. He has never assimilated into the industry and built a career while staying outside of the networking and nonsense. He is an outsider and simultaneously angry about it, but also aware that he’d never want to be anything else. This song is great, but you knew that.

Download:
Freddie Gibbs – “Freddie Soprano”

For someone whose music is theoretically the furthest thing from fun, I have a lot of fun listening to Freddie Gibbs. This makes me want to moonwalk into the nearest liquor store and rob it.

The title is obviously the nod to the most famous Gary native of all-time. Gibbs may have already topped Janet for #2 and I hold Janet in high regard. Evil Seeds Grow Naturally sprouting soon.

Deen is already preparing for his June 27 Celebration.

If you’re a longtime Freddie Gibbs’ fan, you definitely detected a slight difference in his demeanor while he was with Young Jeezy’s CTE. One could say that he was a bit “friendlier” and it was reflected in his music – which wasn’t a bad thing, given that one of the goals was to attract a wider audience. But it’s safe to say that shit is over now; “that shit” being the diplomacy. A shockingly early leak suggests that Gibbs has indeed managed to attract something approaching a good-sized fanbase. Put it this way: this is the first time any of his projects have leaked in this fashion, so I presume there’s a demand for that gangsta shit. Then again, it would be hilarious if Young Jeezy was behind that shit. But don’t mind me, I’m just a troll.

Initially, the split appeared to be diplomatic and that was somewhat comforting since I’m a fan of both artists. But in recent weeks, Gibbs started hinting that the time for diplomacy had passed and bridges were about to be burned. I’m still not entirely clear as to what happened between the gentlemen other than the typical broken promises shit, but I’m more inclined to buy Gibbs’ version of the story since Jeezy has a history of similar drama with a lot of his old/ex-friends.

So I figured it was safe to expect ‘ESGN’ to be one long “fuck you” to anyone who’d ever even looked at Gibbs the wrong way. And the first quarter of the album suggests that I wasn’t wrong; it’s all brutal bass and Gibbs’ trademark lyrical intensity, culminating in one of the most irresponsibly gangstarific songs in recent memory – ‘Lay It Down’. Excuse the descent into adjective overload, but that writing last sentence is easily the most benign thing I’ve done since I heard that song. That shit sounds like a felony even before Gibbs gets involved. Just when you think you’re about to get an album that’s sonically similar to Flockaveli, or somewhat ironically, Young Jeezy’s ‘The Recession‘, Gibbs pivots and provides some nuance in the form of the sorta Scarface tribute ‘I Seen A Man Die’. Then it’s on to a pair of songs that pass as “singles” on what’s easily the HARDEST rap project of the year: ‘One Eighty Seven,” a song that employs murder as a metaphor for dope vagina and ‘Eastside Moonwalker’, a song that rivals ‘Lay It Down’ as the hardest shit on the album and on which Freddie describes Young Jeezy an old friend as a “fuckboi” with nary a fuck given. This is all really entertaining stuff to a bloodthirsty rap fan like me and it makes for really good music regardless of subgenre.

But things aren’t all peachy for ‘ESGN’. To put it plainly, 20 songs is too many for any rapper, even if you have a microphone personality and technique as impressive and varied as Freddie Gibbs’. Shit, even ‘Life After Death‘ doesn’t hold up as well as it used to for me and that’s BIGGIE! I appreciate wanting to give fans a ton of material and giving crew members the opportunity to shine on some Jigga ‘The Dynasty‘, but it’s telling that within hours of the official product dropping, internet niggas had created a version of the album that excised every guest verse from within the ESGN family and rightly so. Most of the verses are competent yet rote gangsta shit and Big Time Watts’ (Freddie’s infamous drug addled uncle and Vine superstar) rant halfway through the album is infinitely more entertaining than ANY guest on the album. Well, maybe not Big Kill’s delightfully awful non-rapping ass rapping, but you get the idea: half as long, twice as strong and that goes for everyone. And speaking of guests, it seems I’ll be getting my wish for fewer of them on Gibbs’ projects since a lot of established rappers are allegedly scared to work with him nowadays. Fucking lames.

The latter half of the project consists of Gibbs doing that thing he does where he proves that he can do pretty much anything he decides to – musically. Basically, things get a lot more melodic without losing any of the edge exhibited during the first half of the album. A particular highlight is his reworking of the hook from KRS-1′s ’9mm Goes Bang’ into a slightly remorseful celebration of murder. I hope reading that sentence troubled you just as much as I was after I wrote it. Because sharing is caring. ‘Lose Control’ with BJ the Chicago Kid further cements the longstanding chemistry between the artists, even if it exists as a bit of an afterthought on ‘ESGN‘. And I could be wrong, but it’s possible that the official closing track (if we ignore the bonus one), ‘Freddie Soprano’, contains some of Gibbs’ best rhymes to date. The pair of verses on this song are on par with universal favorites like ‘Rob Me A Nigga’ and ‘Scottie Pippens’. That’s high praise.

So where does ‘ESGN’ stand in what’s rapidly becoming a pretty impressive discography over the last half-decade or so? I’m not sure I can make that call just yet. It’s certainly his most intense project – at least sonically – and it’s clear that the split with Jeezy lit a bit of a fire underneath Gibbs. However, despite the absence of any bad songs coupled with a few career highlights, one can’t help shaking the feeling that compared to past efforts, this is Gangsta Gibbs on cruise control. In my opinion, that still makes ‘ESGN’ better than about 97% the albums you’ll hear this year, but I know that there’s another level to the madness that’s missing for swaths of the project. Ultimately, ‘ESGN’ is a less rounded effort that probably does more to consolidate his existing core fanbase than it does to recruit new converts. As a member of said core fanbase, this will do just fine until we get that ‘Cocaine Pinata’…

Stream:

As I Tweeted yesterday, I listened to ESGN at the gym and after 45 minutes was asked to leave for trying to stick up the Gatorade machine. Gibbs dropping arguably the most hardest video since “We Outchea.” That killers on the payroll music.

Other ESGN videos below the jump. Deen’s review is here.

Jordan Pedersen has not seen Paid in Full, but he was a big fan of ER.

The degree to which a rapper is freed from the need to say much of anything is in direct relation to how good said rapper is at rapping. Understandably, many rappers overestimate the latter, and things get off-balance: A$AP Rocky’s preeeeetty good at rapping, but he could stand to say a bit more. Ditto Pusha T. And French Montana is, well, French Montana. #hanh

If you’re gonna say nothing but hope to say it really well, you can’t go with a partner much better than Freddie Gibbs. Aside from the occasional reference to his hometown’s crushing destitution or sleeping in a sock drawer as a baby, Gibbs avoids “consciousness” like it’s signed to CTE.

Giftz, who hails from Chicago’s faaaaaaaaar South Side (Chief Keef plus 9 miles), offers a more muscular take on Gibbs’ acrobatic flow. If Gibbs is the running back, Giftz could be his offensive lineman. And like his neighbor to the east, Giftz manages to snap off clever lines at a Gibbs-level clip (“They say he gettin money/I’m the he they talkin bout” is a personal favorite). Gibbs remains in fine, fire-spitting, puppy-toting form here, even if he’s still in slightly autopilot ESGN mode.

If that album suffered from a few too many subpar Gary collaborators, one wonders why he and Giftz haven’t paired up before now. With a bit of coaching, Giftz might have the potential to be the Q to Gibbs’ Kendrick, or at least the Ferg to his Rocky. Hoping to see at least one (Feat. Giftz) on Cocaine Piñata.

In any event, bang this shit with a spiked fucking bat.

The odds of Freddie Gibbs delivering audio dope when he starts a song off with the word “Slamming,” are even higher than the winning percentage of a regular Gangsta Gibbs song — or even higher than gangsta Gibbs himself. The second time I ever interviewed him, I smoked three blunts in one hour with him and Big Kill. I left my own weed in the apartment and nearly tripped over a shopping cart left out on Van Nuys Blvd. Memories. This song sounds as impressively disorienting as that ride.

It also starts multiple verses with “Slammin,” so you know that’s it’s as ruthlessly effective as his loud. What I like about the partnership between Otis Jackson Jr. and Frederick Tipton is that the swooning sad soul loops bring out a different side of the Gary rapper. That’s not to say that he’s remotely simping. There’s a half a kilo of heroin in the bathroom just in the first few bars.

But this is a linear narrative about love and the experiences that occurred adjacent — which in a Freddie Gibbs song means that everything is fucked up since the days he used to “finger fuck her on the bus listening to Usher.” That is a strong rhyme scheme and a strange image, but then again, those first two Usher albums were also pretty slamming. This reminds me a little bit of “My Homeboy’s Girlfriend,” which might be Gibbs’ most underrated song. Everyone wants to focus on the thugging side, but he’s always been three-dimensional since he was first freestyling over the “INC Ride.” There are also Jerry Springer sub-plots that unfold here. MadGibbs’ Pinata drops in February with guest spots from everyone but your homeboy’s girlfriend. In the meantime, you can buy the 12″ of “Deeper,” complete with a side of wings and some slaw.

Part of Gibbs and Madlib’s campaign to get people to no longer rely on KFC. We all know the chicken is mostly worthless there and the sides are what it’s all about. Harold’s is a Windy City institution, but with no LA branch — this offers me no context. I will say that there are far less odes to Roscoe’s than one would expect. That was the site of the first interview that I ever did with Gibbs, where I mostly just listened to him and Pill talk about how they used to rob trains.

That was many years ago and Gibbs continues to improve. He vaporizes his verse on the new Danny Brown album too. On “Harold’s” there are references to ski masks, 6 pieces with mild sauce, UGK, excessive amounts of french fries, hatred for enemies, pussy popping, and llamas. The latter is slang, but the song works infinitely better if you imagine Gibbs and Madlib conducting a caravan through the Andes full of heavily armed mountain camels. This is some very soulful gangsta rap that works at any altitude.

Will Hagle has seen you’ve played knifey spooney before.

Flume’s self-titled debut album was released less than a year ago, but the SoundCloud comments on the LP’s re-released, revamped “Holdin’ On” dismiss it as old. Even Flume himself lists Flying Lotus, now essentially one of his contemporaries, as one of his major influences.

The Australian-bred producer is scheduled to release a deluxe edition of his internet-ancient album in the coming months, and the new edition is accompanied by added perks such as a Freddie Gibbs feature, the “revamped” portion of the aforementioned “Holdin’ On.”

With the MadGibbs project looming, Gibbs seems to be cashing in on his ability to step into unusual, untested production territory and absolutely destroy it. With each of his unusually-produced verses, as well as his more standard ones, Gary’s last living finest has certified himself as one of the best rappers breathing.

There’s a good chance you know what Gibbs is going to be rapping about on any given beat — the reality of growing up in Gary, Indiana, of selling drugs and smoking weed, of relocating to Los Angeles and living the life of a rapper. These themes are far from new to the genre, but Gibbs presents them with a raw simplicity that somehow surpasses that of the internet age’s most daring experimenters. Gibbs’ descriptions of his Harold’s Chicken Shack order — “six wings, mild sauce, with the bread stuck to the bottom” — are the hood counterpart to Action Bronson’s more lush, epicurean rhymes.

Since a Gibbs verse is ever-reliable, strong production is enhanced by his presence rather than vice versa. Imagining 2C hainz over Madlib production is a struggle, but picturing Gibbs on any of B.O.A.T.S. or its sequel’s beats just makes sense. Danny Brown’s Old straddles the line between traditionalism and rave-rap and he conquers both with poise. Still, it seems like he changes up his voice and flow from track to track. Gibbs never does. It’s the scenery that changes, and it adapts to him accordingly. Or, if the background’s already strong enough, that stays the same, too.

MadGibbs isn’t good because both artists got in the studio and found out that they happen to work really well together. It’s because both separate entities are able to do their own respective things so well. Madlib is one of the greatest producers of all time, Gibbs one of the most technically-skilled rappers of this era. It’s a simple formula.

Flume’s addition of Gibbs is similarly simple. Flume makes music that uses samples, synths and tribal percussion sounds in a style that leans toward hip-hop while still allowing him to perform as a DJ/producer of electronic music rooted in dubstep. Give Gibbs any beat that somewhat resembles hip-hop and he will make something of it. That’s not to say every Gibbs song is amazing, just that all of them are on a level playing field. E$GN had twenty tracks and each is enjoyable, but only a few really stood out. He’s batting 1.000, he’s just not always hitting home runs.

This might not be his best work, but it’s significant in that it’s one step further outside of his usual terrain. It simultaneously demonstrates his versatility and his dependability, and that’s a potent combination for any artist to possess. In just a few short internet seconds the full MadGibbs project will finally be here, but this is the next best thing.

Deen is not berserk.

Gangsta Gibbs never really gives us much time to breathe. To quote that now boring, but still genius white nigga, “rap feels so empty without (him).” At least for those of us that still dig gangsta rap. I dunno about the rest of you muthafuckas. Thankfully, Gibbs works really hard to keep us awash in music.

His latest effort is supposedly a sequel to ‘Still Livin’ off 2012′s ‘Baby Face Killa‘. I guess it makes sense that he’d start making sequels to some of his songs since that seems to be in vogue lately. Sorry. I can’t stop thinking about how bad Eminem’s sequel to the Marshall Mathers LP is. More importantly, I think Freddie promised us a sequel to ‘Str8 Killa, No Filla‘ on twitter a while ago. Then again, this might belong on something called ‘Anybody Killa‘. I dunno. Fred tweets a lotta shit and I’m sure he’s high like 90% of the time. Point is, this song is probably going to be on a new project with some sort of name that includes the word ‘Killa’ later this month. I hope that makes as much sense to you as it did to me when I wrote it.

As for the song, it’s Freddie dabbling in that synth heavy/trap sound for lack of a better descriptor. It’s not my favorite incarnation of Gangsta Gibbs, but he’s certainly more than capable of doing his thing on these kinda beats. You should go back and listen to ‘ESGN’ again if you aren’t sure. He really just uses this shit as an excuse to show his versatility, as evidenced by the way he slows down and spaces out his delivery in contrast to the chaos of the beat.

Speaking of the chaos of Lord Zed’s beat (LOL, Lord Zed – see what he did there?), I’d suggest that it has a bit more in common with the murderous shit Gibbs talked that shit over on ESGN’s ‘Lay It Down’ than the OG ‘Still Livin’. Whatever the case may be, I think I prefer this sequel to the original on the first listen. Doesn’t matter though, they’re both dope. The OJ Simpson chase art/footage that accompanies the audio is kinda apt too, given the siren-like quality of the synths, if you’ll permit the reach.

Which begs the question “what was OJ listening to on the radio in that white Bronco?” OK. I’ll stop right here. I was about to get real tasteless in this muthafucka, but I’m growing up. Go listen to the song and try not to hurt or rob anyone.

Will Hagle blames Young Chop for getting “Guap” stuck in his head.

Gangsta Gibbs. Young Chop On The Beat. Retrospectively the greatest, most unexpected soundtrack possible for the Mike Tyson v. Evander Holyfield fight. The build-up to the inevitable biting of the ear consists of standard Gibbs hook-and-verse brutalization. Violence on violence. Gibbs verbal pummeling mirrors the ferocious hooks and jabs tossed by Tyson. Tyson gets Holyfield against the ropes with the type of relentlessness Gibbs unfailingly employs in his flow. I charge $10 per boxing analogy and every one is a guaranteed knockout. I can’t apologize enough.

Based on a quick perusal of Gibbs’ Vine account, he was back in Gary for the holiday weekend. This social media sleuthing leads me to two conclusions. The first: his uncle Big Time Watts still deserves six seasons and a movie. Air his incoherent ramblings and zany one-liners on ESGN primetime. Slot it between looped fights from Raging Bull set to Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik. How are cable providers still struggling with the networks when there are goldmine ideas out there like this?

The second thing Gibbs’ hometown trip leads me to believe is that he linked up with Young Chop simply because he happened to be in the Chicago area and the Chief Keef fanboys need to know that for every city’s Unk there is an Andre 3000. A song can survive on production and hook alone but an intelligible verse can do wonders. East Side (Gary) walk it out.

The more likely explanation is that “Deuces” was organized by the invisible business powers-that-be behind the hip-hop curtains, but sometimes it’s nice to think that, despite achieving fame, collaborations can still be as organic as the contents of Gibbs’ TSA-inspected luggage. For my weed analogies I charge a dub. Strike two.

Whether it came about by Gibbs and Chop’s own accord or by the matchmaking services of an industry known for putting lames in the game like Duncan Pinderhughes, the collaboration was long overdue. Within the context of Gibbs and Young Chops’ respective catalogues “Deuces” is probably middle-of-the-pack, but the combo is justification enough for repeated listens. Plus the video is available online for free, so your ear won’t feel ripped off. I’m out.

Max Bell also enjoys the New Beverly theatre. 

After 30 plus projects, summarizing and/or describing the tropes of Curren$y’s music seems futile. The kush is from L.A. and the wax is from the Bay. The kicks are dead stock, the finest vintage. The money, classic cars and women keep moving. I know, you know, and Curren$y knows.

Yet there’s something about each Spitta project that brings me back, something that makes me check the DatPiff countdown and clear my schedule for method listening. Some devotees I know say its all a matter of expectations – low expectations yield (seemingly) greater rewards. However, Curren$y raises the bar on nearly every project, growing as a lyricist and songwriter. Granted, there are so many songs, and the changes are so subtle, that it’s often difficult to suss out the tracks and lines that display growth. That said, even if you haven’t taken the time pick away the sticks and stems, you shouldn’t underestimate Curren$y. You should have high expectations – he definitely does.

 To say his latest gratis gift, The Drive In Theatre, is the greatest would be damning. Until there’s a coughee shortage, he’ll continue to write rhymes and release music. If history is any indicator, some will be fantastic (New Jet City) and others fairly average (Bales). For now, I’ll say The Drive in Theatre is the best Curren$y project in the last six months (the best of the last four, if you’re counting).

If production is fifty percent of the battle, then many a rapper should heed Curren$y’s strategy. His ear for audio dope rivals Walter White’s ability to produce the purest blue crystal. No matter whom he works with, he manages to find beats both mellow and mobile, beats equally made for utterly stoned stasis and/or lifted lane changing. And, like a dense, dank, and crystal coated cross-strain, their potency lies in their carefully selected pairing.

For The Drive In Theatre, he worked heavily with Thelonious Martin, whose influences (according to his Bandcamp bio) include Dilla, Pete Rock, Madlib, and Alchemist. Pete Rock’s soulful boom-bap is, fittingly, all over the track “Grew up in This.” And there are heavy shades of Alchemist’s yacht rock on “M.P.R.” Still, despite the reverent nods to his influences, Martin does a more than solid job adding his own touch to each production, largely avoiding paint-by-numbers parody. Also, as per usual, frequent Curren$y collaborators Cardo and Cookin Soul deliver superb and sativa clouded suites.

Beat selection notwithstanding, few rappers are capable of soliciting features from Action Bronson, Freddie Gibbs, and B-Real for a free project. Action and Gibbs are in top form, and B-Real’s verse on “E.T.” harkens back to his Black Sunday days. Maybe the air in Spitta’s is particularly rare or maybe his seemingly constant writing inspires his collaborators. Either way, I hope a collabo EP with B-Real is in the works.

Regardless of any of the above, Spitta remains the main attraction on every outing. He’s always been at ease behind the mic, but his delivery here is as smooth as a hit of the G-Pen.

Also, his writing has never been better. It takes skill and perspective to make waking up to leftovers and the doobie ashtray seem like waking up in a new Bugatti. For further proof of Curren$y’s scribbling strides, see his vivid description of attending a wine tasting at the beginning of “Vintage Vineyard.”

If you haven’t gleaned so yet, part of Curren$y’s appeal, at least for me, is the knowledge that he diligently practices the craft of writing. Many of his songs include rhymes about his writing, or what he’s doing while he’s writing. It’s a meta-device that never tires. I’m a writer, and I’ll always enjoy hearing about it (“Make a mistake, then a revision / Make ‘em see that shit the way you did” – “E.T.”).

All the above said and meant, not every track is aural or lyrical top-shelf quality. There are some that, if released on their own, would fall flat (i.e. “$ Migraine”). Fortunately, if you’re wary of the skip button, they make for unobtrusive and tolerable bridges between better cuts.

Now, as with all Curren$y projects, the themes I mentioned at the beginning will continue to prove problematic for some. But they have been, and will always be, Spitta’s lane. And few manage to move around with such seeming ease, variety, and prolificacy. Weed, women, whips — as Curren$y says at the end of “Vintage Vineyard,” “To live another way doesn’t make sense.”

Listen/Download:

Max Bell is not against rap or those thugs.

Freddie Gibbs rose from scary Gary to Interscope refugee to widespread critical adoration. Some argue that the dexterous Gibbs can rap well over anything. Yet his last album, E.S.G.N. received mixed reviews.  The album was solid, but it was also what you’d expect too. It didn’t help that it dropped after Baby Face Killa, arguably Gibbs’ most diverse and fully realized slab.

Accordingly, expectations for Piñata (formerly Cocaine Piñata), his collaborative album with Madlib and first working exclusively with one producer, were high. There was immense pressure for Gibbs to paint a more complex self-portrait, to render himself not only as a cold-blooded gangster and part-time pimp but also as a flawed human being, one capable of love, pain, and joy. Maybe even remorse.

Having the mercurial Madlib in his corner only added to the burden. To work with the recluse who produced Madvillainy and not deliver would be tantamount to blowing the game-winner in the final game of the NBA Championship. The miss will follow you around forever.

Conversely, Madlib’s stake in the project appeared minimal. He’s released a lifetime of material – solo, collaborative, curatorial, etc. – that ranges from solid to superb. Outwardly, there’s little left to prove and little can hamper his reputation. Yet the decision to work with Gibbs suggests a great gangster rap album might’ve topped the beat konducta’s bucket list. If his pairing with Gibbs proved a bad dope deal, there was a chance that Madlib (even though he’d continue to produce) would be personally hurt.

Fortunately, Piñata is one of the best rap records of 2014 — gangster or otherwise. To make the call in March may seem premature. And, given that Gibbs plans to release another album this year, it might also be a damning assertion. Still, it will be difficult for anyone, let alone the album’s authors, to match a distillation of craft so pure.

Gibbs’ guarded revelations are stacked with uncompromising singularity, his sinister, celebratory, and solemnly reflective rhymes expertly delivered. This is bullet-riddled reverence, rapping for the love of the art that aims to expand the aesthetic limits of that art. And, with his banging, carefully chopped suites, Madlib continues to his mission to prove that sampling will never die. Any loop digger with an MPC can claim to be an archaeologist, but only the maddest mystic can resurrect the dusty, fragmented vinyl shards.

Unapologetically nonlinear, Piñata’s flashback narratives are tempered with modern day exultations of hard-won success and contemplative reminiscence. In the past, transactions are handled via JPay, not PayPal; groceries are purchased on EBT cards, not debit. In the present, bills are paid with money from Gibbs’ ‘Master P deal.’ In the past, killers move in silence and violence. In the present, the enemies have long been exterminated and the medical marijuana club is around the corner. The stress and stress weed are back in Gary.

Whether or not either temporal sphere is foreign, Gibbs makes both accessible. In the world of Piñata, ‘Slammin’ and ‘Thuggin’ are all encompassing, time-traveling idioms. Their respective seven letters are as synonymous with sex, selling/smoking drugs, and chrome-plated homicide as much as they are regret, nightmares, and cold sweats in the midnight hour.

Though they work incredibly well together, Madlib and Gibbs haven’t met in the middle here. Madlib’s beats, some of which slow down, speed up, or change entirely on a whim, were undoubtedly made without consultation. Gibbs was then left with the daunting task of rapping over them. Yet he rides over each with seeming ease. No matter where Madlib goes, Gibbs follows floating on a kush cloud. “Real,” for example, moves from frenetic Incredible Bong Band thump to twinkling, string lined boom-bap. Gibbs never falters.

The track arrangement is seamless, as solid as the most tightly bound producto de Colombia. “Knicks” and “Shame,” for example, are back-to-back soul-chopping serenades. Subtly different in construction, they’re markedly different in content.

Even though it dropped in 2011, “Thuggin” remains Gibbs and Madlib’s best collaborative effort. The beat is deceptively complex, the jangling keys at once fantastical and dangerous, like a flickering streetlight illuminating a neon chalk outline in the twilight. Gibbs sells the science of street rap like the ghetto’s Gordon Gekko (in Wall Street 2), trading on the dangers and pitfalls of the life he once lived. He’s been to jail and he’s not going back. All apologies have been traded for more paper. For Gibbs, rap has always been repentance.

However, Piñata is far from all ski mask menace. Gibbs has some fun (see “Robes” or “Pinata,” both of which find him singing). There’s also depth here. It may not surface upon first listen, but the most rewarding works are those that require, well, work. The pain of selling drugs to family members turned fiends (“Thuggin’”); the joy and hurt inherent in love, lust, and infidelity (“Deeper”); the restorative properties of marijuana (“High”); airing out former friends (“Real”); remembering your youth (“Harold’s”) – this probably isn’t your life, but there are still numerous moments for empathy and sympathy.

“Lakers” and “Broken” rank among the most moving tracks. The former chronicles Gibbs’ move to L.A., the struggles therein, and the dream of his sins washing away with the tide of the Pacific. It’s also the G.I. native’s declarative admission that home is where you lay your Dodger fitted and raise your kids.

“Broken” actually does find a remorseful Gibbs. Minimum wage wasn’t enough. His dirty deeds were desperate and, in the grand scheme of it all, futile. (“Fuck the government, I got my own deficit / Death to me the only thing that’s definite / Money rule the world, but when you dead that shit’s irrelevant”). The drugs, girls, and gang flag only hid his insecurities. He knows this, but can’t change the past. Hindsight is his only consolation.

The guest appearances rarely detract from Gibbs and Madlib’s unlikely yet undeniable chemistry. Many work incredibly well. Danny Brown rolls up with his midwestern brethren on smoker’s anthem “High,” tracing his predilection for the purple back to his not-so-distant days on the block. Raekwon assists on “Bomb,” painting pictures of the luxurious ends instead of the grimy means. The younger guard is well-represented by Domo Genesis and Earl Sweatshirt, both of whom offer their best verses in recent memory on the jazzy “Robes.”

Yet the most effective feature comes from Scarface on “Broken.” One of Gibbs’ gangster rap forefathers, his feature is both fitting and long overdue. Honesty is embedded his deep rasp. His lyrics balance G code commandments with poignant meditations on the working class (“Imagine working graveyard shifts / Boss man steady talking that shit / A million a day is for minimum wage / Work a nigga like a slave ‘til he put him in his grave”).

Sadly, like Ab-Soul’s verse on “Lakers,” the featured verses on the title/final track should’ve been cut. To top it off, the last verse goes to Mac Miller, who can’t decide if he wants to skim Dickens and/or Emerson, quote Adam Sandler movies, or be Asher Roth. Gibbs should’ve had the last word, but maybe reaching a point in your career where you can solicit verses from rappers who’ve had a Bar Mitvah affords him some strange sense of validation.

This is Madlib’s best production work with any rapper since Doom. His productions may initially seem simple, but are actually multi-layered collages, the samples as deep-rooted of the most potent, orally consumable fungus. Shades for every one of Gibbs’ moods. He again brought the best out of one of the best.

Given Madlib’s involvement on Piñata, I’ve sparingly mentioned Madvillainy. However, any and all heavy comparisons will be unfounded. The records are papier-mâché Zebra’s of a different color. The difference between psilocybin induced tripping and smoking a blunt of blue dream.

Ultimately, Piñata doesn’t bump with the bang of a double barrel. Those not willing to play it more than once will be doing themselves a disservice.  Adversaries have been slain, customers have overdosed, women have been scorned, but the guts of the piñata have been not been laid bare. Gibbs is asking you to break it open and sift through the white residue for the revelations.

Together, Gibbs and Madlib cleansed the perception of the gangster mentality and opened the door to the haunted aftermath of felonious existence.

I’ve spent a significant part of the last few years taking the death of gangster rap for granted. The narrative that I’ve run with tracks the rise in popularity of artists like (duh) Kanye West, the explicitly fake Rick Ross, and Drake, and the concurrent fall of Young Jeezy, the disappearance of 50 Cent, the marginalization of Freddie Gibbs.  ”Could “Juicy” make it onto pop radio today?”  I’ve asked, in far too many arguments on the subject.  ”No, of course it couldn’t.”

Mainstream popularity is one thing and its true that in that arena, gangster rap, like the record store, has fallen from former dominance.  But losing its place atop the heap has allowed the genre to grow stronger and stranger, abandoning label-mandated hooks and a slew of copycat gangsters.  Artists have been freed from the demands of Billboard and are plying their craft straight to the (literally) free market that is the web. Consequently, through the first quarter of 2014, the music sounds liberated again, the best offerings rising to the top.  Artists are out from under the thumb, free to make that which appeals to them.  What the rappers below have in common, is that the music that appeals to them is gangster music. Affiliated with the hustlers, so they made it. No DeSean Jackson. — Jonah Bromwich

50 Cent Returns

The past five years for 50 Cent The Recording Artist have suffered from 50 Cent The Conquering Titan of Industry. When you build a huge portion of your persona on success, how do you rebound when you flop eight times? “Outlaw.” “Wait Till Tonight.” “I Just Wanna.” “New Day.” “First Date.” “My Life.” “Major Distribution” (which is actually dope). “We Up.” Would you play any of these songs at the gym? At a house party? At a barbeque? It’s impossible to give no F’s when you’re “rich as a motherfucker and ain’t much changed.” Actually, everything changes with wealth, because you spend all of your time protecting it. That doesn’t make for great gangsta rap records.

Alas, the shackles of Interscope have been lifted. Forced collabos with Adam Levine are dust. The eight failed singles he released since 2009′s Before I Self Destruct mean nothing, because on “Funeral” and “Hold On,” 50 Cent isn’t updating his business portfolio on record. He is not shoehorning himself awkwardly into Industry Trap Beat #3439. 50 Cent is making songs free from market research, trend hopping and Iovine head pats. And both songs can hang with anything from his early classics of 2000-2007.

“Hold On” is similar to “Ski Mask Way”–a stripped down soul beat with a snaking bassline topped off with glorious stunting and shit talking. “Fuck a Boy Scout, I’ll air your ass out” meets great tactical thinking with the line “You a gangsta for real, you ready to ride, n**** you gon’ die from a bad case of too much pride.” The other single “Funeral” unlocks 50′s ice cold storytelling ability that has gone dormant. “We all can’t win, some of us gon’ lose, just envision a little dog barking at a pack of wolves.” This is the guy who lost to Kanye, Rick Ross and Jay Z, making his best work in half a decade. — Zilla Rocca

Freddie Gibbs & Madlib – Cocaine Piñata

Listening to Freddie Gibbs go toe-to-toe with Scarface on “Broken,” it’s easy to forget that a 12 year age gap separates the two. Such is the power and pathos of Gibbs’ voice, an instrument as rusty and hard-edged as the Gary neighborhood he grew up in and one that can imbue even recent memories with weighty nostalgia. Were a novelist to attempt a tribute to Elmore Leonard, he could do little better than Gibbs as a protagonist: a sweatsuit wearing, Midwest gangster turned California king pin, equally at ease in the streets, strip clubs and studios of his adopted LA.

Unlike native Angelenos ScHoolboy Q and YG, who paint their street tales in high-gloss IMAX 3D, Gibbs’ Piñata harkens back to 70′s blaxploitation via 90′s-style boombap: there are missing reels, a heavy dose of adult content (both in the X-rated sense and in terms of maturity) and a consciousness that belies Gibbs’ rep as the realest man in rap. While his peers are tortured by their street memories, Piñata sees Gibbs breathe an unrepentant sigh of relief: he’s glad to be out, but he’s not afraid to go back. — Son Raw

Kevin Gates – By Any Means & the Return of Boosie

Baton Rouge is to New Orleans what Newark is to New York or the East Bay to San Francisco. It’s the same language but a different dialect. BR is more savage than its slicker creole neighbor. Before C-Loc had a chance to make it with the masses, he wound up incarcerated. It’s a city so overlooked that people wrongly think that Young Bleed, the city’s biggest pre-Boosie star, was signed to No Limit.

The cliché is that rappers are supposed to put on for their cities, but most metropolis’ get overcrowded. Baton Rouge didn’t just embrace Boosie, he became a combination of folk hero, flagbearer, and most loved outlaw. Along the Airline Highway, he’s somewhere between Leadbelly and 2Pac— breeding inspiration and enmity in equal parts.

In his absence, Kevin Gates ascended to stardom. Years before he signed to Atlantic, he sold out sweatbox clubs throughout the state. They’re different rappers controlling different lanes. Over his last three mixtapes, Gates has created his own mold for a modern gangsta rapper: obsessed with vampires, astral projection, and violence. He’s closer to a Ghostface Killah in that you’re unsure if he’s going to cry or kill you, or both. With both on the same label and newly free, it’s probably the best time ever to be a Baton Rouge rapper. The only question is whether they can continue to represent their city without it devouring its own. — Jeff Weiss

ScHoolboy Q – Oxymoron

A little over a year ago, ScHoolboy Q played S.O.B.’s in Manhattan a day after “Yay Yay” was released. He turned every song from Habits & Condractions into moshpit anthems before closing with “Hands on the Wheel.” No more than 20 seconds passed before he cut it off, said “That’s not the one anymore,” and put on “Yay Yay.” The place erupted, reciting every word, as Q jumped in and rapped from the crowd. Leaving to an absolute frenzy he yelled “What’s my album called?” and everyone shouted OXYMORON. Then “Yay Yay” didn’t get enough spins on the radio. Neither did “Collard Greens” and ESPN fucked up and leaked “Hell of a Night” during the NBA Playoffs. All of this caused delays and due to Kendrick’s massive success, they weren’t rushing unless they had another “Man of the Year.”

Fast forward to February 22nd of this year, three days before Oxymoron was finally released and would go on to be TDE’s first Billboard #1. I was working on Houston St. when I looked up and saw ScHoolboy Q walking by. He came over to shake my hand before continuing down the street, alone. His expression resembled Joe Girardi’s after the Yankees won the World Series in 2009: “Finally.” A look of relief combined with anguish, knowing that it will never be enough.

Oxymoron was supposed to be Q’s Doggystyle. He shares Snoop’s charisma and his story needs to be heard. The best moments are Q’s street-tales: sticking up ice cream trucks, making sure you hit your quota and selling dope in Seattle. He’s also Gonzo-Q, pink ‘stache or purple-drunk, throwing his voice any which way, letting us forget reality. No matter the content, when you’re one of the best rappers on the planet it’s hard to make a bad song. Oxymoron is good, but it’s bogged-down by features that keep it from being great. It’s a shame they didn’t stick to the Gangsta blueprint, because there’s a great album inside the Oxymoron files. Here’s to hoping Q gets his independence back. — Brad Beatson

Vince Staples – Shyne Coldchain Vol. 2

Vince Staples isn’t a master of dense wordplay. His sociopolitical analysis isn’t all that nuanced. If a vet like Freddie Gibbs has earned his stripes, this Long Beach MC is still on the front lines, running point on a path set down by so many sturdy gangsta rappers before him. On his new mixtape, Shyne Coldchain Vol. 2, Staples frames the bad deeds of the gangbanger as a means of survival in a nation built on the backs of slaves. But if Staples is self-aware, he’s also proud of his street credentials, and he clearly takes pleasure in making people piss their pants in fear.

The mixtape’s central thematic contradiction–simultaneously romanticizing and critiquing this hard way of life–appears in plenty of street-rap productions. But Vol. 2 gets its luster from the disquieting imagery and cold, hard production. Staples’ no-bullshit hook in “Trunk Rattle”–”Mu’fuckas talking shit ’till you show up where they live”–sticks in your mind even without being remotely tuneful, while the piano-and-chimes refrain (care of DJ Babu & Evidence) has Michael Myers-murder-scene written all over it. Ultimately, though, it’s “Nate”–a poignant, vivid portrait of a young boy’s admiration for his deeply flawed father–that shows Staples has the potential to rise up the ranks. — Peter Holslin

YG – My Krazy Life

YG is a character, a charmer, someone you can’t help but to like.  He has a code of honor (“dropped him but didn’t stomp him cause that’s disrespect”) and a great sense of humor (“Bicken Back Being Bool” still makes me giggle like an idiot.)  He doesn’t want to get in trouble, or hurt anyone, but it just keeps happening. He’s a rascal, a rapscallion, and still willing to admit that he’s nervous during a home invasion. He loves his mom.

Gangster rap shouldn’t be predictable because it’s made by individuals.  Traits may overlap, but there’s always going to be some funny little thing about your favorite rapper that sets him or her apart, something in their background, in their attitude, in their willingness to confess to all manner of weirdness. It may even be in their love for a certain pitch in their voice, like the one YG uses when he threatens those who interrupt the party. Put a persona like that over beats like DJ Mustard’s, which bus G-funk in from the graveyard to give scope to the ratchet sound, and you’ve got a masterful formula, one that’s resulted in the most high-energy, most outright fun album of the year thus far. — Jonah Bromwich 

100s – IVRY

Influenced by pimp raps, inspired by Blaxploitation flicks and compared to Snoop Dog during the Death Row era, 100s has mackin’ in his spirit. The cold hearted 21 year old continues the rhyme style established by O.G.’s of debauchery like Too $hort and Suga Free with all of the key elements of running game: freaky tales, power struggles, fly garments and a vice-like grip on his loot. Combine this with the magical ability to wear a white turtleneck without looking stupid and you’ve found a young don even Magic Juan would appreciate.

100s’ debut Ice Cold Perm was released in 2012 and showed potential with exceptional tunes like “1999,” “Brick Sell Phone,” “Land Of The Laced” and haircare tribute “My Activator.” He’s since signed with Fools Gold and this year released the certified funky IVRY, which improves on its predecessor. The purple-tinted EP benefits from a slim track-listing as well as experimentation with 80′s grooves and tongue-in-cheek melodramatic croons while still maintaining a good dose of R-Rated rhymes.

Unlike his sleazy forefathers, 100s admits he hasn’t actually participated in sellin’ tricks. Instead he’s preaching on the player lifestyle and paying homage to the culture that first infiltrated his brain when he watched American Pimp as a 10 year old. The Berkeley local focuses intently on his chosen subject and it’s not lyrically for the easily offended, but if you’ve always been curious about rocking mint fur in the summer you better catch his wave. — Jimmy Ness

“My jewelry gold like the tokens at Chuck E. Cheese.” Quoth semi-professional gemologist, Jeffrey Williams. Thug raps like he’s only been eating weed brownies, Strawberry syrup and soda and molly for the last six months. His insides probably look like rotting pumpkin, but his raps are box cutter sharp. Wayne is the most obvious analogue, but he’s also got an ODB chaos to the raps. We are one news cycle away from hearing about Young Thug crashing the Animatronic show at Chuck E. Cheese and smoking the hookah.  Who knew that flammable and inflammable mean the same thing?

Gibbs remains Jerome Bettis in his prime, half-bus, half-battering ram, deceptively more nimble than his style suggests. And A$AP Ferg still sounds like a high-flying cross between P.E.A.C.E. and the Flatbush Zombies. Picking your favorite rapper on this track says as much about region and stylistic reference as anything. There are no wrong answers. This might be as close as we get to the 2014 “Buck Bounce.” In this scenario, Salva and Nick Hook act as the Quikster, taking the funk into the trap, staying low and coming out firing. Summer is here.

Thug also dropped the video for “Lifestyle,” which is reminiscent of a classic Cash Money cut circa the “Shine” era. If you haven’t seen it, you should.