Review by: Michael Strait
Aww, yeah – this is some proper subcultural realness right here! Dreadful, muddy mastering? Check! Album art that looks to have been designed on a budget of maybe six dollars? Check! Incomplete and/or misspelled tracklisting? Check! Ratings on RateYourMusic? Six! The closest this guy ever came to a brush with fame was a terrible guest verse on a terrible song by the terrible Lupe Fiasco, and that only came out after he was sentenced to thirty-nine years in prison for first degree murder. Psht – and people like The Game have the balls to call themselves gangsters?
Yeah, this is for the enthusiast only, and even for us weirdos it can be kind of a slog sometimes. That stretch from “Savage Up” to “Ridin Dirty” is so littered with horrible guest spots and forgettable beats that it really takes a bite out of the energy, and that’s kind of a mortal blow ‘cos the energy is really all this thing has. Lines like “Choppa spittin’ like a water gun, I’ll spray a nigga like a water gun” really test the limits of my affection and/or tolerance for simplistic drill lyrics, and I’m pretty sure Rondo himself isn’t even on a couple of these tracks. And of course, as with most drill, I really have to be in the mood for it or else the ceaseless, senseless repetition really does drag me down and leave me feeling kinda depressed. Still, it’s only about forty minutes long, and when I am in the mood there are some real gems in those forty minutes.
Rondo’s a nihilist, but unlike Keef he at least he usually comes off as an actual human being rather than a degraded puddle of primordial sludge. Mind you, I’m not entirely convinced he’s all human, ‘cos he displays a level of raw, unfiltered aggression more commonly found in velociraptors, angry male bears, and hardcore punk vocalists. He’s got a gravelly, harsh voice, usually made harsher by the gloriously inexact doubling effect applied to his vocals on most tracks, and he’s also got an ear for rhythmically catchy hooks. “My Team Winning” doesn’t really sound like it should be catchy or memorable, but it is nonetheless, and it’s been stuck in my head for days, as has “Ridin Dirty” (though, to be fair, I can’t actually be totally sure he’s the one rapping there). His adlibs are also hilariously appropriate – behind every main vocal track is a bunch of animalistic “rrrrAHR!”s and “grAWWH!”s, and on “No Question” they’re so loudly mastered that they occasionally overwhelm the rest of the track and drag the whole thing into hilarious cacophony. It should sound awful, but somehow it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Is it amoral to be so charmed by the music of a proud murderer? I mean, it’s not my fault it’s so endearing!
It’s not all unintentional comedy, though. All the horrendous mastering and nonexistent mixing in the world can’t get in the way of just how ridiculously hard this stuff goes, and I found myself properly headbanging – not just bopping, but seriously banging – to it at multiple points. If Back From The Dead was no wave, then this is proper DC hardcore, and it packs as much abrasive, raw energy as that suggests. There’s not much use describing most of the tracks, because the majority of them are exactly the same – there’ll be a brief, ominously sweeping intro until the harsh, drilling hi-hats and filthy synths come in, with Rondo snarling out a bunch of aggressive boasts and territorial postures until some guest rapper comes in and does much the same. It’s proper trunk banging music, but it’s also way too harsh, lo-fi and abrasive to fit into any Atlanta party trap playlist. Sometimes those big, booming basslines are barely even audible, and the synth chords are way too macho and powerful to work in any strip club. Nah, this isn’t music for parties – this is music for killers, and not the calculating kind. After all, killing tends not to be a very intellectual business; mostly what you need (so I’m told) is a lot of raw rage and testosterone, and this has those in abundance.
There are definitely a few notably great tracks, though. “Money, Power, Respect” has a surprisingly delicate keyboard riff coexisting with all the bass & drum cacophony, and the way it interlocks with the main synth melody in the hook might actually be described as intricate. “Face Down”, meanwhile, has this sassy little plinky-plonky piano riff that lends the track a stylish swagger, but there’s still a wailing whistle synth soaring above it and some harsh, distorted keyboard notes thunking underneath it in case you forgot where you are. “We Savage”, meanwhile, sounds like it could almost fit on a God of War OST, with those huge, choral synth chords presiding over that thunderous, percussive riff that rolls under the whole thing. Rondo’s really great on that track, too – he inflects his rage with just a touch of spicy contempt, and it really goes that extra mile in pushing the track from yer average nihilistic drill banger to something more memorable and fun. “We in that field, we totin’ drill/ we’a whack a nigga for nothin‘!”, he proclaims, unfiltered disgust twisting the last word like a knife. It’s brutal, uncompromising, and fucking awesome. Drill can be mind-numbing, soul-crushing stuff sometimes, but at its best this tape energises me like little else in the musical world. Great stuff.