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.
Javon Johnson Addresses Our Burning Time
The temperature in Los Angeles this past week hit 90 degrees most days, a searing reminder of a long, hot summer refusing to relinquish its grip. As more black men—Keith Lamont Scott, Terence Crutcher, Alfred Okwera Olango—continued to die on the other end of police officers' guns, the late September heat seemed a physical reminder of America's roiling tribulation, the re-opening of old wounds prematurely bandaged to reveal long-held and hidden racial tensions.
Javon Johnson's latest EP N.ever I.gnorant G.etting G.oals A.ccomplished (which as you might have already been able to tell, shortens readily to N*GGA, a fact certainly not to be lost on any prospective listeners) arrives as a reaction to recent events, but truly a response to the chronic rupture that has made 2016 at times feel like a portal back into the brutality of the Reagan Era and the open, unapologetic racism of the pre-Civil Rights Era. N*GGA is Johnson's best work yet, a tightly focused exploration of what it means to be a young black man in Houston.
As on his past releases, the formerly homeless Johnson explores the triumphs and perils of life on the edge with clever clarity and densely coiled rhymes that require repeat listens for decoding. Crime, nightmares, dark streets, and death waft across the EP's jazzy, rough hewn production, like the creeping quiet that sometimes overtakes the air after the delivery of bad news.
The EP's high point comes on the second verse of standout song "The Talk," a deft entanglement of the personal and political that shows Johnson's rapping at its sharpest:
"I should probably talk to you while I'm focused on the subject so, fuck it/
They dying for us to lose, they hope we fall on our faces/
That lack of education is a portal that eliminates young black imaginations in training, our brains wasted/
We multiply by a million heads every few years/
Our mothers crying new tears, stressing their lives until they faded then we try to embrace 'em make no mistake of it/
My moms did a lot of foul shit but I'll empty eight for her, nigga/
Die for the color they judging and wanna be like/
Dig up my family and mark the top of their graves right/
Bury my uncle where the pigs can't see 'em cause these demons will dig you up if they feel safer when you're deeper/
Jesus/
The adrenaline in this pen that I'm gripping while I'm carving these scriptures is beneficial to my livelihood/
I'm just doing the right then like Spike Lee would/
While I'm talking to 'em/"
"The voicemails from my mother are real," says Johnson of the project's interludes. "She tried to reach me for days during the process of creating this but I was so focused. A lot needed to be said about certain things happening out there in the world. Everyday there is a new obstacle."
Jeak Rivers - "Kryptonite"
Jeak Rivers wants you to know that he smokes weed because he's expected to smoke weed, not because he actually likes it. While sobriety might seem an unlikely topic for a compelling rap song, it proves amusing, fertile territory on "Kryptonite."
"I'm a sophomore in college and just got my own apartment so I have the newfound freedom to smoke weed 24/7," he says via email. "One day, I was just like 'yo...why the fuck am I doing this?. Does sobriety scare me so much that I'm willing to spend hundreds of dollars a month just to get high? At the end of the day, it's not really worth it and while I am aware of this, I continue to do it with my friends because it's a social norm. The song was mainly meant to show my hypocrisy and to see if any of my listeners also had the same way of thinking."
In the abstract, a song about sobriety and peer pressure doesn't exactly sound scintillating—especially for those of us who've listened to so much Future we practically feel like our blood is made of Actavis. In practice, Rivers pulls it off with admirable style and humor, shedding entirely logical light on the pitfalls of pot overindulgence while finding ready entertainment in the fact that knowing something might be bad for you certainly doesn't mean you'll stop doing it.
"Also, just in case you were wondering, I haven't stopped smoking weed," Rivers adds. "In fact, I smoked immediately after I recorded the song. However, that's only because it was free and like...who turns down free weed?"
Levi Watson - "Final Fall"
Sampling a classic is typically a fast, wide road to ruining any shot that I'll enjoy your song. If you choose wisely, treat your source material with great care, make something that generally doesn't tarnish the fine memories associated with whatever it is that you're sampling, and, as a result, doesn't send me hurtling towards the original, you're in decent shape.
Rapper Levi Watson manages to pull off the Herculean task of not ruining SWV and Missy Elliott's classic bedroom anthem "Can We" on his decidedly less sexy "Final Fall," recasting Timbaland's futuristic soul for what feels like a lost Z-Ro record. Part of his success on "Final Fall" stems from a recasting of familiar sounds against unexpected aesthetics.
"The inspiration for 'Final Fall' really came from my love for fusion music, especially Japanese fusion," says Watson via email. "The way that their songs can take so many forms and tap into so many emotions at once is exhilarating. So in that vein, the idea for 'Final Fall' was born. I just like to play off my inspirations and make them my own."
As is typically true of well-executed fusion—be it culinary, artistic, or otherwise—"Final Fall" revisits well-worn territory to shine a light forward, freshness forged in the collision of constituent parts.
Krinny ft. Ty Senoj - "2 Seater"
Toronto producer/rapper Krinny's "2 Seater" caught my attention for three reasons, in descending order of importance from least to most:
—Its beat is dark and hypnotic and will probably sound good in my car because I turn the bass up so loud that all you can hear is bass so everything sounds good.
—It features a typically unhinged hook from Toronto rapper Ty Senoj. I like rappers who sound like they're one Jacob's Ladder hallway away from losing their minds and that suitably describes Ty Senoj. So I like Ty Senoj.
—At one point, Krinny raps "wearing fake Yeezy's you know that I still look the best in them" and that makes me feel like I'm in high school again buying dubious Nike Dunks from off-brand French websites and thinking that regardless of origin I'd still be looked at as a cool kid because maybe three people in my high school knew how to differentiate real sneakers from fake ones. It should go without saying that I was not a cool teenager. I respect Krinny for writing something to which I can deeply relate.
If any of that sounds enticing, smash that motherfucking play button below.
Flee - "Cop Out"
Queens rapper Flee's "Cop Out" creeps up on you. It's the sort of song that seems rote when it starts; if you let it run, it's stuck in your head before it's done. A deceptively simple combination of plainspoken street rap, melodic hooks, and a sparse, eerie beat built around plinking piano notes makes "Cop Out" a spiritual successor to a subset of songs that New York rappers like 50 Cent and Max B perfected, putting eerie, atmospheric crime tales in easily digestible packages.
