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East Atlanta rapper Grip's 13-track smoking barrel "Subnose" seizes your attention like you're caught in a stick 'em up circumstance. One shift of a glance to something else, or one skip to the next song and the outcome could be deadly. In my compliance I became witness to my favorite song on the project, "Tek" (feat. Armani White).
The two-faced song shakes hands with the same intentions, as it happens. Haunted parlor chords riff in loop during the first verse as munching drums in tempo strangely throw off the equilibrium of control and safety. Grip's prayer cadence blessed over his sprinkling of surface descriptors inside blood red storytelling gushes out verbally like the devil on your shoulder infecting your thoughts to the point where there is no room for an angel's testimony of caution.
Then the beat switches. And the closest thing to an angel gets a word in.
Heady chords ground the second half of "Tek" in a blear melody alongside hodge-podge drums that resemble trash can drums if they were refined, sounding like a pool of deep thought. Grip's transpicuous verse sounds rapped entirely in hindsight while Armani White's active verse appears to hit like the feeling of adrenaline during a dangerous moment, rapping through the compulsory questions that would arise after a random act such as a shooting in a parking lot.
Grip and Armani White give the gray area of violence and crime a story. And, on the face of it, this is just a hard record. It really only takes the first line to understand that.
Listen to "Tek" below.
Lead Photo Cred: spotify.com
East Atlanta rapper Grip's 13-track smoking barrel "Subnose" seizes your attention like you're caught in a stick 'em up circumstance. One shift of a glance to something else, or one skip to the next song and the outcome could be deadly. In my compliance I became witness to my favorite song on the project, "Tek" (feat. Armani White).
The two-faced song shakes hands with the same intentions, as it happens. Haunted parlor chords riff in loop during the first verse as munching drums in tempo strangely throw off the equilibrium of control and safety. Grip's prayer cadence blessed over his sprinkling of surface descriptors inside blood red storytelling gushes out verbally like the devil on your shoulder infecting your thoughts to the point where there is no room for an angel's testimony of caution.
Then the beat switches. And the closest thing to an angel gets a word in.
Heady chords ground the second half of "Tek" in a blear melody alongside hodge-podge drums that resemble trash can drums if they were refined, sounding like a pool of deep thought. Grip's transpicuous verse sounds rapped entirely in hindsight while Armani White's active verse appears to hit like the feeling of adrenaline during a dangerous moment, rapping through the compulsory questions that would arise after a random act such as a shooting in a parking lot.
Grip and Armani White give the gray area of violence and crime a story. And, on the face of it, this is just a hard record. It really only takes the first line to understand that.
Listen to "Tek" below.
Lead Photo Cred: spotify.com
Whole album goes hard, and anyone skipping over tracks is doing themselves a huge disservice. But, gotta agree Tek is the crowning achievement for the realest storyteller doing it right now. Cautionary tale: Have Faith, but carry Steel.
ReplyDelete100%. Great way to put it.
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