2 ALIVË: ALBUM REVIEW
On the song “1985,” from J. Cole’s 2018 album KOD, Cole offered an incredibly condescending, yet genuine, warning to upcoming Black rappers who rap over “trap drums.” He says,
“These white kids love that you don't give a fuck
'Cause that's exactly what's expected when your skin black
They wanna see you dab, they wanna see you pop a pill
They wanna see you tatted from your face to your heels
And somewhere deep down, fuck it, I gotta keep it real
They wanna be black and think your song is how it feels”
A lot has changed since 2018. J. Cole has been right about lots of things and wrong about many more (I wonder if he would still pray for 6ix9ine), but this warning, originally directed at Lil Pump, has taken on an even more complex meaning. The genre of Soundcloud rap that Lil Pump spearheaded has become its own subgenre; an insular world nestled within the broader mainstream hip-hop context. A corner with fans who prioritize emotion over the lyricism that older hip-hop listeners crave. But I think we are seeing more and more clearly that this rage is not a yearning to be Black, but instead a rage at life. This rage is no different from mixtape era Future, or even early Kid Cudi and the further this genre develops the easier it becomes to understand that. I think what J. Cole misses is that nobody makes or listens to a song about popping pills without feeling emotion. Yeat, a half-Mexican half-Romanian kid from Portland, Oregon, is one of the many sons of the Soundcloud rap revolution, and he captures this drug-fueled rage and connects with an audience better than anyone since Future debuted. His newest project 2 Alivë is a showcase of his greatest strengths and shows that some of the most interesting experimentation in rap is happening in the mainstream.
Yeat’s rise through hip-hop perfectly encapsulates what the music industry has become since the start of the pandemic. In the span of about six months, he went from entirely unknown to a music industry influencer. His chaotic and droney sound dominates a room yet never takes itself too seriously. Aided by Tik Tok, unexpected industry cosigns (Drake and Earl Sweatshirt are fans), and unrelenting energy, Yeat aggressively pushes boundaries.
Great artists use their voice as an instrument, Yeat uses each individual word as an instrument. Yeat’s vocals are like notes cascading across a music staff, each word with its own unique energy. The lead single “Still Countin” is an apt example as Yeat takes the phrase “Percs, they gon' take me, I booted up,” and turns it into a beautiful arpeggio where you can’t make out a single word, right before saying “I don’t love her back” in the clearest English you have ever heard. There seems to be no logic to his melodies or end to his creativity. His lyrics are purely there to supplement his vocal experimentation. It’s as if he chooses words for the number of syllables they have rather than any intrinsic meaning.
Since Yeat’s debut mixtape in 2018, he has gone through an incredible musical evolution. His early music is filled with oppressive life and joy. Everything on those early mixtapes was optimistic, it seemed like Yeat was destined for success. Four years later, Yeat has found success, but that joy that he had at 18 has completely dissipated.
Lyrically, listening to Yeat’s new project feels like entering hell. His lyrics harken back to mixtape-era Future. With every bar, Yeat tries to distance himself from a world that brings him nothing but suffering. The exact same sentiment is expressed in so many different ways. From “Percs don't stab my back” to “Nodding off the Percs, that's the way I love it” to “I just be taking that X with the Perc' and they know that for sure that I'm leaving the earth,” Yeat makes it terrifyingly clear what he represents. Like Future, Yeat has a self-awareness that reassures us that it’s okay to live out our own demons through him.
This is not to say Yeat’s music sounds entirely original. He still wears his influences on his sleeve, and much of his music pays deep debts to Playboi Carti, Future, and Young Thug who paved the way for his sound. Yet, Yeat takes the sounds that these artists are best known for and pushes them to the limits of what can exist in the mainstream.
Most of all, I find Yeat fascinating for what he represents. Yeat is what all of the older, moralizing rappers warned us about. The rappers who complained that listening to Future would turn all the kids into drug addicts and that the only market for this music is white kids who want to be Black. While many of these points are fair, they take away from the incredible musical evolution that has been happening within the genre. Hip-hop is not all about lyrics. Yeat is the tip of the iceberg for this experimentation, and with 2 Alivë he proves that he represents something transcendent.