Vince Staples—Prima Donna
2015 was the Year of Kendrick Lamar. 2016 marks Chance the Rapper’s arrival. Both have more than earned their accolades and the places they both hold as the future of rap. But, one figure has lurked at the margins of both years, quietly releasing pitch-black rap and muscling his way into the conversation about the best MC’s in the game. Vince Staples’ Summertime ’06 was one of the finest albums of 2015 and immediately vaulted Staples to the “one to watch” category. He comes back stronger than ever with a lean, nasty EP entitled Prima Donna.
Those familiar with Staples’ Summertime ’06 will recognize signposts from his breakout album — “Smile” feels like a 120-watt version of “CNB,” his unmistakable cadence from “Norf Norf” features prominently on both “Loco” and “Pimp Hand”—but Prima Donna feels more focused. He leverages the distinct advantage of the EP format—mostly the fact that the shorter runtime allows an artist to explore a small section of their musical palette in depth—to drill into a very specific representation of Long Beach, California.
It’s hard to talk about Vince Staples without making direct comparisons to Kendrick Lamar. The two rappers represent some of the best West Coast rap has to offer, and explore similar themes in their music — gang violence, guilt, and depression. But, if Kendrick’s California is a fever dream, Staples’ is a nightmare. Hewed from throbbing bass and violent kicks, Staples’ Long Beach is a brutal house of horrors that he’s only barely survived. In a particularly harrowing moment on “Loco” he details himself standing in front of a hotel mirror holding a gun, having “Kurt Cobain dreams.” Summertime ’06 painted Long Beach as a crucible—one that forged Staples into a jaded but steely street warrior—only briefly hinting at the psychological impact of the fear and violence he grew up around. Prima Donna, on the other hand, is steeped in that pain— a fact hammered home by the short, lo-fi, a cappella vignettes that serve as connective tissue between tracks. In those 40 second tags Staples repeats phrases like “I just want to show you better” or “sometimes I feel like giving up.” Suddenly, high-testosterone, blood pumping tracks like “Loco” and “Pimp Hand” exude constructed, fragile machismo, rather than defiant confidence. They read like Staples’ last line of defense, the only things keeping the trauma of his surroundings from eating him alive.
What strikes me most about Prima Donna is how presentational To Pimp a Butterfly sounds in comparison. Whereas Lamar feels as though he’s trying to convince the listener of something, Staples makes no pretense of caring what his audience thinks. He’s made his opinions on the matter clear, and the lo-fi vignettes represent a radical lack of filter. They often sound like they were literally recorded alone on an iPhone in his pitch black bedroom—barebones demos or idea diaries for fully formed tracks to be made later. There’s an unflinching, confrontational quality to Staples music and lyrics that’s refreshing as much of rap continues to moderate itself for the mainstream. You won’t find gospel choirs or sax solos on Prima Donna. It’s almost entirely synths, vocal samples, and drums. It recalls the agression of hardcore hip hop while presenting a bold, futuristic palette for beat-making. That’s not to say that there aren’t any bangers on this album—“Loco,” “Pimp Hand,” and “Big Time” are destined to drive crowds into a frenzy for years to come—but, each one hits with sledgehammer impact. Somehow I’m reminded of Sicario, Denis Villeneuve’s incredible 2015 drug epic, as I listen to Prima Donna. This EP generates that same rare cocktail of exhilaration, trepidation, and sheer awe.
Prima Donna represents a “third way” for hip hop as it turns the genre’s dynamic duo into a triumvirate. Vince stands in direct opposition to Chance’s brand of “hip-hoptimism” and presents a modernist, darker alternative to Kendrick’s realist portrait being black in America. Prima Donna is enthralling and discomfiting in equal measure, playing like a cross between Kendrick’s “Backseat Freestyle” and “u.” It’s a succinct, frank statement by a rapper who’s gone from being “in the conversation” to deserving of a spot among the very brightest stars in hip hop.
9.2/10
Essential Tracks: “Loco,” “Prima Donna,” “Pimp Hand”
