5 On It: Relevant Reverence

5 On It is a feature that looks at five of the best under-the-radar rap findings from the past two weeks, highlighting new or recently discovered artists, or interesting obscurities.

Obligatory hyperbolic comparison (just so we get it out of the way): If you like Andre 3000...or Isaiah Rashad...or basically anyone from the south who might readily be called an "old soul" and have a particular gift for twisting words in ways that defy casual imagination and skirt around being considered "gymnastic," then listen to Atlanta's Souletica.

"When I Have A Child/Die Tonight" wafts into existence, rap verging on spoken word weaving its way across Juran Ratchford's loose, evocative saxophone playing. It feels equally of a piece with Kendrick Lamar's jazz rap exploration on To Pimp A Butterfly and Outkast's most experimental leanings, a heartfelt offspring of lofty inspiration and a successful attempt to merge styles and ideas in the name of emotional effect.

​

In the age of instant gratification, Snapchat stories, and big, obvious drops, creations that take time to unravel and reveal themselves feel like fish swimming upstream, beaten back by the current into noisy oblivion. Kansas City rapper Aaron Alexander's "Badu2" is only two and a half minutes long, but it unfurls patiently; a filtered introduction giving way to Alexander's deceptively intricate and an equally detailed beat that breathes and builds before its abrupt end.

"Badu2" is an enjoyable paradox, a lesson in close listening and patience packed into an easily digestible portion. 

Since the summer of 2012, Chicago has been one of hip-hop's hottest, most scrutinized, and most influential cities. It's a truism to say that its roots run much deeper than the past four years and that its history is well worth studying. Particularly in a week when young rappers knowing their history has, again, come into focus as a central hip-hop debate, it's feels fitting to feature the work of DJ Rude One, a steady presence in Chicago's underground scene and a recent signing to label Closed Sessions. As a host of long-running party "The Goodness," Rude One played a key role in bringing producer and DJ culture to the city, hosting an assortment of celebrated names: DJ Babu, Large Professor, Lord Finesse, Diamond D, Alchemist, DJ Revolution, and Statik Selektah, among many others. 

"When I first started in the early 90's the hip hop scene was pretty small," recalls Rude One. "It was primarily house music everywhere, but that changed in the late 90's. Then everyone became a DJ, MC, producer or promoter.  It's dope though. There have been some really great movements within the Chicago hip hop scene since I started. I'm crazy proud to have come up there."

Like many artists, producers, and adherents inspired by hip-hop's earliest days, Rude One started building his library by recording mixes from radio broadcasts in the mid-to-late '80s.

"In Chicago I used to record Farley Jackmaster Funk on WBMX and when I moved to the east coast, I used to get tapes of Mr Magic's Rap Attack or DJ Red Alert shows," he says. "From there I started trying to track down every record from those mix shows. Once I got a decent collection of vinyl the natural progression was to learn how to play those records myself. I stayed digging for years, but never really started making beats until 2000/2001. Then I fell back on the beats in 2006 and didn't pick back up again until 2015 when I decided to do this ONEderful project."

After a hiatus, Rude One returned to making music in partnership with Closed Sessions, crafting an album with familiar boom bap production as its backbone. Boom bap production is a bit like rustic furniture design: straightforward, functional, containing few parts (or rather only those necessary for its structural cohesion), and often rough hewn. It gets called "dusty" as both a compliment and a pejorative, the quality beloved by those weaned on the Golden Era and likely ignored (or, worse, derided) by younger listeners. 

Rude One isn't sure the generational antagonism that colors much of the current conversation is productive. His approaches embodies enthusiasm rather than reprimand.

"I guess time will tell if that's a productive method," he says. "That's not really my thing though. Last week me & Chris Crack [Ed. Note: Chris is an up-and-coming Chicago rapper, previously featured in 5 On It​) met up at a party J-Zone was DJ'ing in Brooklyn and we were talking about Chicago hip hop. I got so charged putting him up on older stuff. Like it was mad fun for me to tell him about All Natural & DJ 3rd Rail or my old 'Goodness' parties."

None of that is to say that Rude One thinks artists shouldn't be students.

"I think that principle [of studying history] should apply to any art form."

Rude One's new album ONEderful features Roc Marciano, Conway, Your Old Droog, J-Zone, Jeremiah Jae, and others across an assortment of the producer's beats. The lead single "Andre Drummond" features Buffalo rapper Conway, a previous 5 On It entrant and compelling practitioner of gritty, tightly coiled street raps. 

I'm willing to bet a wide swath of 5 On It readers and P&P readers in general probably won't like A. Bobbit's "Work." 

"Work" gets to the point immediately: It is a celebration of strippers and a worthwhile one at that. It's catchy in its repetition, immediate in its execution, and...look I can really go on trying to analyze why a song that celebrates strippers is something you should or shouldn't listen to, but A. Bobbit sounds like Ester Dean's pitched up voice from "I Think I Love Her" come to life, sent from one of the greatest Gucci Mane songs ever to pay homage to women who make their money by killing it on the pole.

I can waste some more words winding you up for whatever you think is going to happen after you press play, but you should really just hit that little pink and white button and decide if this is something you want to get drunk to in a club for yourself. 

Broward County, Florida's GABRL raps with tremendous purpose on recent single "Take Your Money," every lyric arriving with impactful weight and momentum. It often feels like a statement of purpose from a rapper whose hometown has rarely scraped popular attraction.

"We don't have any history as far as rap goes in Broward," says GABRL, "but I think that's what's happening right now. All the people blowing up now is who the kids going to look up to."

"Take Your Money" bristles with underdog energy, rap delivered attitude—the sense that GABRL would rap with similar intensity and effort whether facing a crowd of 10, 10,000 or none at all.