Day 21: 21 Savage (Duh)– Issa Album
The rap world is restless. Given that hip hop is an incredibly democratic art form that can accommodate a wide range of styles, it can feel at times like the genre is a revolving door of ideas. Rappers appear out of left field, and can almost as quickly vanish from view when something newer and more captivating comes along.
It feels like 21 Savage came up a lifetime ago, even though breakthrough mixtape Savage Mode isn’t even 15 months old. 21’s mumble-core take on hip hop felt unprecedented at the time, to the point that that some of the other trends we’ve seen could be construed as a subconscious retreat from his style.
But maybe his relaxed delivery indicates a level of comfort that few possess. While calling his first “proper” release Issa Album sees Savage SKRRTing the line between meme and MC that others have a hard time navigating, he exhibits a refreshing refusal to seek attention, swerve from his lane, or even invite anyone else to merge into it. Over the course of Issa Album’s 14 tracks and 56 minutes, that choice gives us the chance to fully appreciate his strengths and weaknesses as an artist.
After listening to Lil Pump’s debut album this week, it’s obvious that 21 Savage is more of a talented lyricist than one might assume given the novelty of his nonchalant delivery. He’s like that coworker who mutters a withering insult once the boss is just out of earshot, or like if high-school aged Liz Lemon was talking about popping percocets instead of making fun of someone’s mom’s pill addiction.
While Metro Boomin’ doesn’t have full creative control over the production like he did on the stellar Savage Mode, he’s clearly established a blueprint for other producers (including Zaytoven, Southside, DJ Mustard, and Savage himself) to follow. The 808’s never hit too hard or fast, and the most standout beats have the kind of light string melody that feel lifted from the Age of Empires II soundtrack. The beats are never bland, but serviceable. The best ones (like “Whole Lot”) come close to summoning whatever dark sorcery young Metro used to make “X”, but they mostly exist to provide a vehicle for 21 Savage to do what he does without getting in the way or overwhelming him.
Of course, there are other moments where 21 steps too far outside of his comfort zone without any backup, and Issa Album is forced to include material that could have been stronger with new collaborators and/or context. He’s already given artists like Post Malone and A Boogie Wit da Hoodie assists on their own tracks this year. It’s just too bad that somebody with a different swagger or skill set couldn’t have swooped in at some point to return the favor. Someone like Ty Dolla $ign might’ve worked well in 21’s place on the woozy, slurring hook for “Facetime”, or any of the other few tracks that find him in a loving mood. On the other hand, “7 Minute Freestyle” feels like a shallow attempt to pad the album’s length; the kind of Breakfast Club freestyle that goes viral because of 21’s in-the-moment endurance. Though an impressive feat, the context of placing it on an album robs the track of its potency, and things would’ve gone just as well without it.
Though on the surface 21 seems to follow the formula set by many of his southern rap peer, it’s clear that he’s more haunted by the trauma of his trapping days than his peers. He doesn’t just blow bands, he “numb[s] the pain with the money.” He doesn’t just mourn the friends lost in the struggle, “sees dead bodies when I close my eyes”. 21 Savage neither exploits the terror he’s witnessed for shock value, nor does he exaggerate his horrors to the point that he becomes an unreliable narrator.
And that’s what “Nothin’ New”, the album’s most powerful statement, is about. 21 Savage is far from the first rapper to zoom out from trapping to analyze the school to prison pipeline and cycles of (police) violence that plagues the inner city. But it’s much rarer for a rapper to so convincingly capture the sense of hopelessness. “He done dropped outta school, it ain’t nothin’ new/He done got his first tool, it ain’t nothin’ new/Mama on that dog food, it ain’t nothin’ new/ He smokin’ weed and he changin’, it ain’t nothin’ new/ All his friends gang bangin’, it ain’t nothin’ new/Got a pocket full of hundreds and they all blue.” If anything outside of controlled substances can explain why 21 Savage raps the way he does, it’s that the tragedy of grinding poverty and the conditions it creates has shocked him into a state of permanent detachment. It’s never stated, but there’s a sadness buried within 21 Savage that shines through the cracks in his armor. I don’t know what he, or I, or you are supposed to do with any of this. But in reluctantly showing us how that suffering operates on an individual and systemic level, we can start to develop a sense of how and why to make it stop.
