#Greg and freddy teamed up to make the cake

[dykevanny]

HAPPY BIRYTHDAY VANESSA I LOVE YOUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[popularmolds]

Best rap, 2017

In 2007, I thought I was very fast. That fall, I was one of the top sophomores at the Minnesota high school cross country state championships, which, believe it or not, are very competitive as far as high school cross country state championships go. Then it was winter. There’s no indoor track season in Minnesota; I played hockey, like I had for my entire life to that point, but I also ran 60 miles a week in toques and gloves and terrible things called “wind briefs.” I got ambitious and decided that in the spring, I wanted to be the fastest 15-year-old in the state, the Midwest, maybe the country. 

But in the first week of outdoor track, in the middle of a mile repeat workout we were running on the sidewalk (there was snow on the track), I felt bones splinter. There were stress fractures up and down my left tibia. 

Every afternoon for the next twelve weeks, I had to find a ride from my high school down to a suburban YMCA, chosen because it had a reliably deserted pool. I needed to get in some sort of cardio with zero impact on my bones. If you’ve never seen someone water run, it looks like a recurring nightmare playing out under fluorescent lights: a skeletally thin person in the water, upright, making all the movements he or she would make on the track, but moving impossibly slow, back and forth, end to end. It’s like quicksand. I would sweat and strain and grit my teeth, but I was barely moving. 

A couple weeks into my muggy purgatory, my friend Collin burned me a CD of an obscure album he’d found on a Wordpress blog. It was called Brokelore and was by someone named Grip Grand––clearly from the Bay, but we couldn’t find anything else about him. 

It blew me away. I listened to it every day, to and from the Y, in headphones or out of those primitive aux hookups that plugged into the cassette decks in my friends’ cars. He sounded gruff and grizzled, but we had no idea what he looked like. (Eventually, Collin found a short interview Grip had done with a blog, but we assumed the press photo was of the blogger, not the rapper. Sorry, Grip.) 

The record’s mostly self-produced; the beats have a little grit and a lot of warmth. Grip’s voice is tough, but elastic enough to bounce and bend and let the humor through. Grip is quick and witty, but threads the record with these incredibly earnest love letters to rap: "96 Tears” is an extended lyrical exercise, “Hip-Hop Classic” is the sound of someone pounding his fist on a computer desk, searching. There’s a song with Percee P (”Paper Cup”) and a song where Grip thanks Percee P for dropping that verse (”Showtime (That’s Entertainment)”). There’s “Handle That,” which was probably conceived as a parody of popular rap styles at the time but got mutated along the way and sounds like a good-faith alien transmission; there’s distortion and vocal modulation and lines like “While you pretend to be sick like Ferris Bueller / Grip Grand drop gems like a careless jeweler.” 

But it’s called Brokelore. This was a few months before the financial collapse; this was Oakland and San Francisco and the shadow of the early tech boom. Sometimes Grip and his Rec League comrades broach this with a light touch, cashing bad checks and skirting tax forms. (One of the album’s highlights is the remix of “Poppin’ Pockets,” where Grip and A.G. (!) rap joyously about having absolutely zero money.) Then there are the graver moments: “Out of Service” is a half-dreamed conversation with a factory worker who’s in limbo at a bus stop; it’s tearjerking but never treacly. “Tomorrow” is sorrowful. 

And then there’s “Love/Drama” which––this is not an exaggeration––is one of the most deeply felt rap songs I’ve ever heard. It’s structured as a letter back to a writer who ripped his last record, Welcome to Broakland. An artist responding to criticism looks defensive––and that’s the point. In the space of a few bars, the song unspools into a catalog of Grip’s deepest fears as an artist.

“My whole albums’s a jack: “Impeach the President?”  Yo, how done is that?  Tribute to early rap? DIY ethic?  No, a piss-poor producer—take my name off the credits.”

The song wraps up with a venomous couplet:“You’re so astute brah, every minute flaw, you heard it / Can’t wait to hear your album, it must be perfect.” But he’s not brushing off the critic. “Love/Drama” isn’t about brushing off a detractor, it’s about scratching and clawing and stretching $10 in groceries for a whole week, pouring yourself into a record only for it to be...fine. The kicker, then, is that Grip Grand internalized all of that and made a masterpiece. 

I say all that to say this: I don’t know if I would have found Brokelore today. Ten years after the fact, it’s ostensibly my job to find and write criticism of rap music, including obscure releases like this. But the economics of the media industry are strange: while it seems clear that people still want to discover new music, it’s difficult to get anybody to click on articles that present it. Music discovery has moved mostly to the curated playlists at streaming sites (so, radio) and there are fewer and fewer places willing to publish full-scale album reviews for artists who are untested or unsigned. I don’t spend enough time in pools. 

Of course, there are still massive communities of rap fans who dig for new material. But as it becomes more difficult to make a living covering it––and with the collapse of the blog world, which was invaluable for fans and artists in the mid- and late-2000s––there’s less time and attention given to smaller artists. Especially the kinds of time and attention that can be turned into money. (On that count, I physically recoil imagining how much bleaker the Bay Grip rendered on Brokelore has gotten.) 

The good news is that rap is in an exceptional place right now. There are vibrant underground scenes in cities across the country. In 2018, I’m resolving to take time, stay still, and appreciate rappers who would otherwise go uncovered. 

Notes/methodology: This list, obviously, includes both songs and albums. In most of the cases where either an album or a song from it could have made my top sixty, I chose whichever entry would rank higher, i.e.- I think “The Story of O.J.” is one of the ten best rap things from this year, while 4:44 as an album would rank a couple dozen spots lower. There are exceptions. “We Ball” would probably be among my top ten entries, but I wanted to give a nod to Meek Mill’s album because it hasn’t left rotation since it came out. Similar case with Boosie: “Webbie I Remember” could easily be in my top five, but BooPac should be on everyone’s radar, even if it’s ninety minutes. Slow down.

60. YG, “Pop It, Shake It” 59. Smooky MarGielaa, “Stay 100” 58. YBN Nahmir, “Rubbin Off The Paint” 57. Freddie Gibbs –– You Only Live 2wice 56. Muja Messiah & Roc Marciano –– Saran Wrap 55. Frosty Da Snowmann, “Oh My Gawd” 54. Wiki –– No Mountains in Manhattan 53. Greg Grease –– Down So Long 52. Chris $pencer, “Shark Wrestling” 51. Chief Keef, “Can You Be My Friend” 50. P.O.S –– chill, dummy 49. 2 Chainz –– Pretty Girls Like Trap Music 48. Young Dolph, “100 Shots” 47. Roc Marciano –– Rosebudd’s Revenge 46. Bbymutha, “Roses” 45. Sahbabii, “Pull Up wit ah Stick” 44. Nef the Pharaoh, “Bling Blaow” 43. J Hus –– Common Sense 42. 21 Savage –– Issa Album 41. Cardi B, “Bodak Yellow” 40. Deniro Farrar, “Can’t Touch Me” 39. Lor Jugg & Bandhunta Izzy, “Back At It” 38. G Herbo –– Humble Beast 37. billy woods, “Police Came To My Show” 36. French Montana, “Unforgettable” f/ Swae Lee 35. Rich Homie Quan –– Back to the Basics 34. Lil B –– Black Ken 33. Nipsey Hussle, “Rap Niggas” 32. A$AP Ferg, “Plain Jane” 31. Young Thug –– Beautiful Thugger Girls 30. Migos –– CULTURE 29. Playboi Carti, “Magnolia” 28. Why Khaliq –– The Mustard Seed 27. Snoop Dogg –– Neva Left 26. C Struggs, “Go to Jesus” 25. Lor Choc, “Fast Life” 24. RJ, “Blammer” 23. Tee Grizzley, “First Day Out” 22. OMB Peezy, “Lay Down” 21. Boosie –– BooPac 20. Meek Mill –– Wins & Losses 19. Kodak Black, “Patty Cake” 18. Drakeo –– Cold Devil 17. Don Trip & Starlito –– Step Brothers THREE 16. milo –– who told you to think??!!?!?!?! 15. 03 Greedo –– Money Changes Everything; Purple Summer 03; First Night Out 14. DJ Quik & Problem –– Rosecrans 13. Nocando, “1998″ 12. Goldlink, “Crew” f/ Shy Glizzy & Brent Faiyaz 11. Mach-Hommy –– Haitian Body Odor 10. Lil Uzi Vert, “XO Tour Llif3″ 9. Jay-Z, “The Story of O.J.” 8. G Perico –– All Blue & 2 Tha Left 7. Kendrick Lamar –– DAMN. 6. Tay-K, “The Race” 5. NBA Youngboy, “No Smoke” 4. Future –– HNDRXX 3. Armand Hammer –– ROME 2. Creek Boyz, “With My Team” 1. Open Mike Eagle –– Brick Body Kids Still Daydream