070 Shake’s “You Can’t Kill Me”: Album of the Year?
I knew that “Ghost Town” by Kanye West was going to be special the very first time I listened to it. From Ye’s 2018 self-titled album, the song’s genre-bending influences, raw lyrics, and eclectic ensemble cast propelled it to instant-classic status. Of that cast, one feature stood out from the rest — a longing, melancholy voice that eerily echoed “Ghost Town”’s now iconic outro: “I put my hand on a stove, to see if I still bleed / And nothing hurts anymore, I feel kinda free”. From this song, many in the hip hop community were introduced to the talent of singer-songwriter 070 Shake. As 070 Shake describes herself, Kanye was introduced to her music by a friend of hers, and he was inspired enough to reach out and collaborate. Whatever your opinion may be on the controversial hip hop icon, there’s no denying that Ye has a gift for recognizing and enabling elite musical talent. Although I’m sure that 070 Shake would have had a fulfilling career without Ye’s co-sign, I must give him some credit for putting her on the trajectory to craft this article’s incredible album of discussion: the 2022 release from Shake, You Can’t Kill Me.
In my observation, 070 Shake is a woman of few words. During interviews, the tatted curly-haired artist’s responses are often slow and brooding, where not much is revealed to the listener. Her music possesses the same ominous quality to it, lyrical content usually taking a back seat to layered, sprawling synth instrumentals and vast psilocybin-infused sonic soundscapes. While mysteriousness is important to Shake’s persona and sound, the purpose of her music is still clear — to feel. As Shake describes during a Billboard interview: “I’m very obsessed with emotions, and how they work”. Emotions tend to be non-linear and clashing, an endless battle between contradictory ideas. Shake recognizes this throughout the album itself, flip flopping between themes of connection and isolation, love and loss. On the track “History”, a twisting odyssey of epic proportions, Shake reflects on a relationship’s permanent imprint on the fabric of her life: “We’ll go down in history, yeah / Forever and eternity / Keep me in your memory”. After the first act, the tone of the song shifts rather unexpectedly, from spacey symphonic notes to a brash, fast paced electronic beat, before once again returning to a slower tempo. Orchestral strings ascend to the heavens and explode like fireworks against Shake’s esoteric lyrics: “And when we unite, we become the sun / The world becomes one, but that’s just a dream to me”. One of the highlights on the album, “History” overwhelms the senses and touches the soul, speaking to the listener in both a deeply personal and inexplicably universal way, as if to remind us of the collective humanity that we all share.
On the track Medicine, Shake seems to hold a totally different view of her romantic partner: “You were sick babe, I was your medicine / I’m your oxygen / But I’m cutting off your supply”. A slow burn, the sinister sounding track contains a resolute tone to it, Shake determined to leave a situation she sees as detrimental to her growth. Yet, on the very next track “Skin and Bones”, such sentiments are nowhere to be found, instead replaced by lofty, warm feelings of togetherness and affection. Complemented by guiding bass beats and ethereal synth patterns, Shake delivers some of the more profound lyrics on love that I’ve heard in recent memory: “You treat me like I’m more than a pair of skin and bones / And that really made a difference in my story”. “Skin and Bones’’ describes the power of love to pull us out of the depths of loneliness and misunderstanding, and to show us that we are indeed more than just skeletons aimlessly moving through the world.
Shake continues to explore the dichotomy of our emotions and their reflections on the world itself. “Wine and Spirits” sees Shake reflect on the necessity of opposites. She sings like a spiritual teacher, preaching scripture over subdued, cloudy beat drops that naturally dilate the pupils: “Yin and the Yang it’s more than just a symbol / Life is ‘bout balance, war and harmony / Can’t have one without the other, I think we need each other”. But for all of her introspection and reflection, Shake, just many of us, seems to be right where she started by the end of the album. On You Can’t Kill Me’s final track “Se Fue La Luz”, Shake can only lament as she comes to terms with the fact that things between her and her former lover will never be the same: “Se fue la luz / La luz de mi vida” (the light went out, the light of my light). The conclusion of the track features a rousing crescendo of horns, crafting a sense of triumphant resolution for Shake and this chapter of her life. Yet, the melancholy that shrouds the track (and the entire album, for that matter) indicates that perhaps Shake will never be the same after this relationship. Then again, does anyone ever stay the same?
Sonically, You Can’t Kill Me is a drug. Thematically, it’s a spiritual sermon. The album grapples with important existential questions while offering no comforting answers. Why do we continue to pursue love when we know the costs? Why, despite being aware of our shortcomings, do we continue to hurt those around us? Will we ever be at peace? While finding answers to those questions is impossible, the attempt to do so is important in itself, the purest expression of our own humanity. For some reason, I’ve always been interested in these fundamental human mysteries, a major reason that the album was so impactful for me at my current place in life. Perhaps it’s due to my unhealthy habit of romanticizing my own existential concerns, but hey, that seems like a topic for a different article. At any rate, 070 Shake hit the nail on the head, delivering a deeply moving collection of songs that taps into the human spirit in ways that only music can. For me, You Can’t Kill Me is absolutely a contender for album of the year.
