When Crush released the double single “NAPPA” at the end of August, it was definitely a reminder of why he’s the best in the game.
Crush Flexing on Everyone
There’s something frighteningly brilliant about the way Crushcan seemingly express so much with so little. His recent release of single “album” “NAPPA” is testament to his unwavering dedication to finding ways to expand his craft. He does so in the rudest flex I’ve seen this year from a Korean artist. Considering how saturated both the R&B and hip-hop scenes have become, that’s one hell of a claim for a two-song release.
“NAPPA” as a song is a microcosm of everything that Crush stands for musically. For the past couple years he’s made it his mission to find out all the ways in which R&B and its older brother jazz intersect. We saw it in 2016’s “Wonderlust” EP, in singles like 2017’s “Summer Love.” Perhaps the most acute example of this was last year’s “none,” in which he parsed the barest nuances of contemporary R&B and spliced them with traditional jazz vocal conventions.
However, “NAPPA” blends the Brazilian jazz of bossa nova (a genre he’s more in love with lately) with an 808. With the combo he creates something both fresh and classic. It’s this ability to play with the very old and the very new that speaks to both his training as a jazz technician and his natural musical curiosity. He’s quite literally a student of music. He takes what he’s learned and creates work that slots effortlessly in the trained precision of jazz and the classic emotion of R&B.
Nothing more exemplifies this connection to R&B’s emotional core than track “Lookin 4.” There are layers to the song’s musical elegance. Crush does something I’ve been waiting for from South Korea. He actually explores the particular uniqueness of neo-soul. The sub-genre in and of itself is an amalgamation of various traditions in Black music. (Starting with the chord progressions of jazz and ending on the urban grittiness of hip-hop at its edges.)
His vocal performance here is full of so much soul I was hysterical by song’s end. Both emotionally compromised and stricken with an overwhelming urge to laugh out loud. It’s a vocal performance that goes back to the ease and grace of Musiq Soulchild at his peak. Of the late Tony Thompson, lead singer of early-’90s R&B group Hi-Five. Effortless. Full of dimension and depth.
All this, and we haven’t even touched his choice of collaborators. Quite frankly, I should stop acting surprised whenever Crush shows the breadth of his musical vocabulary. Joyce Wrice isn’t the most widely known R&B vocalist in this day and age where they really are a dime a dozen. In an era of H.E.R., SZA, and full-bodied vocalists like Lizzo and Deva Mahal, Ms. Wrice’s is a voice that might get lost in the fray.
However, she has this subtle elegance in the way she delivers each note. Every single time she stretches her voice into the ether, the note she needs is right there. Her tone is undeniable. Smooth. Sultry. Wrapped in a precision worthy of adoration. I’ve been a fan of hers for so long. Realizing that Crush has also found her vocal charms irresistible doesn’t shock me. But the knowledge that she’s on his radar does fascinate and surprise me.
Crush also sought the undeniable production and understated vocal prowess of Devin Morrison. This man’s entire vibe is steeped so intrinsically in the grooves of neo-soul you might think he’s from a different decade altogether. There’s warmth, maturity, control, and incredible depth in his tone. A voice that allows listeners to time travel.
These elements combined create a song that transports true lovers of R&B and its subsets. Jettisons them to a time when the genre stood for something pure and honest. Lyrically “Lookin 4” might not exactly be anything remarkable. But the essence of the song resonates so deeply within me that every listen is an adventure.
Crush’s Playground
Just like the “Interlude” EP before it, Crush used “NAPPA” to make a point. “I do this.” There are instances when he just takes a moment to play around. To truly flex his musical muscles and deliver a purely cerebral experience. Honestly, “NAPPA” just sounds like he sat down at the keyboard one day and pondered the ways he could upstage the entire Korean R&B scene. When he chose a direction, he cracked his knuckles and got down to business.
We are truly blessed Crush is so willing to share his machinations with us. Music is his playground. I’m honored he invited us to play on the jungle gym and merry-go-round with him.
“GOTTASADAE.” First of all, BewhY… ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS VIDEO?! How does one articulate the mastery of one of the most brilliant pieces of visual art to come out of South Korea? There are so many avenues. So many theories. However, one thing stuck out to me in about a dozen different ways. The ego of man. “GOTTASADAE” seems to be the perfect visual representation of a man constructing a kingdom unto himself. BewhY and director Hobin have expressed that with form, color, and references, all of which blew my mind.
From the outset it’s obvious something’s… wrong here. One can point to the most blatant example of perhaps “troubling” imagery (the nearly naked men writhing in motions indicative of contemporary ballet). However, if you allow yourself to ruminate in those moments of silence on screen you can’t help but notice the symmetry.
Every part of this music video relies heavily on the illusion of perfection. It’s this obsessive attention to detail that is so incredibly unsettling. You see it in horror films like “American Psycho” or Stanley Kubrick films: absolute control. A glamour of a reality in which the main character meticulously maneuvers everything to fit in its place. The ultimate God complex.
Musical Geometry
It starts, as most things do, with sound. “GOTTASADAE” is a song that you must listen to with headphones. Only then will you pick up on its truly frightening details.
The weight of each sound is almost identical. As in, the volume is absolutely the same. What gives it that feeling of “offness” is that both manipulations of BewhY’s voice are in separate ears. The low distortion of the word “BewhY” in the chorus is spanned 180 degrees (completely in the right ear). Meanwhile, the distortion of the word “Gottasadae” is spanned -180 degrees (completely in the left ear).
Thus you get perfect balance that seems unbalanced because of its perfection. The sounds being absolute (completely in one ear or the other) creates both a vacuum effect and the illusion of surround sound. The added dissonance of the filtered bass line (compliments of a gritty fuzz pedal or pedal design), the ambient manipulation of a violin superimposed atop the pitch-perfect staccato of the choir. It’s all measured. Intentional. Symmetrical. Oppressive.
This equity of sound means BewhY has imposed his kingdom on all sides. You are surrounded by it. Seemingly his “walls” are indestructible. The first layer of his self-made domination lay in the listener’s own equilibrium.
Kingdom of the Mind
Visually “GOTTASADAE” is intoxicating.
I found aspects of multiple films in “GOTTASADAE,” particularly in terms of coloring. However, the most powerful parallel came from one of my favorite films, “The Cell.” Though Hobin doesn’t have Tarsem Singh’s visual aesthetic, his eye is attuned to find beauty in the painfully distorted.
The overall imagery of “GOTTASADAE” falls in line with Carl Stargher’s house of depravities.(Warning: The linked scene is NSFW.) Singh borrowed heavily from the Quay Brothers’ stop-motion short film “The Street of Crocodiles” (based on the collection of short stories of the same name by Bruno Schulz).
The ultimate moral of that story is the decay of the current society in lieu of the progression of modern society. Technology infringing on (instead of coinciding with) memories of a country’s former self. (“Hangeul will be sold”; “The standard of old and new will be me.”) How this plays out in the short film and Singh’s references to it is through very meticulous movement and an uncomfortably close look at man’s attempt to control his environment.
The stables.
The near nudity of the dancers in “GOTTASADAE” is not unlike the deceptively semi-nude women trapped in Stargher’s own twisted kingdom. As with Stargher’s prison, the dancers act as BewhY’s living dolls. Various versions or manifestations of himself. His pride, his madness, perhaps even a bit of his self-loathing. But when they’re not trapped in their own cells, they move to his command. Are subject to his whims. The twitch of his hand like a conductor with a baton. His fingers poised like a violinist on his bow, the strings plucked to his cadence. He moves and the dancers react involuntarily.
BewhY Gottasadae…
Further, in “The Street of Crocodiles,” the dolls have no eyes. BewhY’s dancers wear horse blinders. It’s a device used to keep horses from noticing their surroundings as they cart about loads of humans. Supposedly it’s meant to keep them from becoming startled. One can infer that the blinders are meant to keep his dancers from seeing the world around them. Forcing them to focus on the commands of the human on their backs: BewhY. Further making it impossible for them to question their station. How can they if they can’t see anything beyond what’s in front of them?
After all, “in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” When no one can see what’s in front of them, the one with his eyes uncovered can construct the future. (“Leaders will follow me. I will be a pioneer. Money will find me. I will make a generation of my name.”)
Their bodies contort as much as he does. However, when fully clothed, heads and faces covered, they jump as one, giving concrete form to the pulse of the bass. In fact, nothing moves until the first iteration of “Gottasadae!”
He has given his orders and expects them to be carried out. In this world of his creation (set inside a place for raising, training, and displaying horses), nothing lives until he gives it life.
Kingdom Ruled by Power
Lyrically… I’m… so angry! I’m angry at the absolute gall BewhY has. The first thing I did, straightaway, was look up the translation for “gottasadae” (가라사대). There isn’t a direct English equivalent. The root of it is “to say.” The honorific level of the word places it in the “voice” (for lack of a better word) of someone “holy.” Think, “And God spake unto them…”
This casts the shade of the entire song. BewhY lines out the divine decrees of his new kingdom where he is the ruler of all. A kingdom of himself: “I will be who I want to be. I will be myself.” (“I am that I am.” (Exodus 3:14))
The introduction of the Bible verse is fascinating. “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power.” (1 Corinthians 4:20) In the entirety of the third chapter of 1 Corinthians, Paul defines the people of God’s church and what’s expected of them.
At the end of the fourth chapter Paul issues his warning to those who’ve grown arrogant. “Arrogant people,” Paul essentially says, “are full of talk. So I’ll come and see how much power they actually have.”
As BewhY stands in the small opening of the barn door (“The center will be me”), his congregation awaits him. The eight men standing on pillars (stripped before a congregation of men whose heads are covered) represent the measure of him as a man. His words are provocation, a warning. He declares, “I will set a standard. I will show the future. Fakes would be living with regrets.” His kingdom is built on power. His “disciples” are a visual representation of that power.
Damn.
There’s Just Too Much!
BewhY has big brassy ones for pulling this off with such fearlessness and precision. Let us be clear. This video, the music, the lyrics, his delivery are precise. Not an image (visual or otherwise) was dropped in by mistake. BewhY has a vision of himself as king among paupers. Every aspect of this piece is another brick in the foundation of his of kingdom.
Obviously this doesn’t even scratch the surface of the majesty of “GOTTASADAE.” The relevance of the janitor. The meaning of the letters and numbers on his shirt (1017 A L Y X 95M). The cage/lacrosse mask over his face… There’s just so much! I had to focus on just a few things because I could’ve honestly written a dissertation on the visual and aural imagery of this piece of absolute magic!
On Monday, August 5, trio CIRRRCLEreleased their collaboration with FLANNEL ALBERT andLATE LEE. “Talkin to Watashi” is a whimsical summer tune about summer flings and their potential to become something more by summer’s end.
I can’t tell you how much of a blessing it is to be able to talk to an artist who’s constantly working to improve himself. Josh Kim, best known by the hip-hop pseudonym Metaphaurus Raps, is an artist who strives for more than just a moment in the spotlight. His music is a means to open himself up and reflect. Dissect his past and push himself toward a brighter future.
Metaphaurus took some time to revisit HiphopKR and answer some questions two years after our first conversation.
Two Years in the Making
It’s been two years since you last spoke with us. Could you reintroduce yourself to our readers with two years of new life and career experiences behind you?
My name is Josh Kim AKA Metaphaurus Raps and I’m a Korean-American MC from California. I’ve performed at numerous local shows around the valley/LA area and competed in a number of competitions through Coast 2 Coast Live and TeamBackPack. I make music, not just raps, because this craft gives my life meaning.
You’ve spoken openly about your stage anxiety in the past. Is that something you still struggle with or have you managed to control that anxiousness about being on stage?
With my experience as a performer I’ve learned that the anxiety never goes away, but does get easier to manage with each experience. Anxiety can be a good thing if utilized the right way. So I’ve learned to accept that I can’t kill my anxiety, but control it.
You’ve mentioned a few times that you get a lot of your bars while driving. You’ve allowed your fans to watch your process on Instagram. What is it about driving that gets you so inspired?
Don’t be influenced by my bad habits, kids. I like to write while driving because while I drive it’s so easy to get lost in a meditative state. Especially on longer rides, so my creativity is on a different level.
What Is Hip-Hop?
The TeamBackPack tournament was your first experience with competitive rapping. Many people don’t feel battle rapping is a relevant marker of a good rapper. What do you think about battle rapping in the current climate of hip-hop?
Battle rapping nowadays is definitely a sport in which you need to be at the top of your own pen game if you wish to progress at all. Everybody has heard every kind of diss by now in 2019 so it becomes more than just your punchlines. You don’t need to be a battle rapper to be a good rapper, but to be a good battle rapper you need to know how to write your ass off. Flow, rhyme schemes, creativity, cadence all matter in these kinds of competitions. Mastering these requires a tremendous amount of skill and experience. Battle rap is a great outlet for MC’s to push each other through competition and hone their skills.
What do you believe defines “real” hip-hop?
I believe real Hip-Hop comes from the heart. Everybody is tryin’ to flex nowadays and I’m guilty of this too, but you don’t want to listen to your favorite rapper brag about himself all the time. Music can be used to heal, motivate, feel, and so on, so why waste time bragging about yourself when you can be using these melodies to do some good?
You’ve noted Eminem as an inspiration. He’s a polarizing figure even among rappers (using the “n” word in older lyrics, lyrics about rape). How do you separate the artist from the person in situations like that?
Em and Kanye [West] are two of my favorite artists of all time yet they are always on the news sayin’ or doin’ somethin’ that irks me. It really affected me at first. I would delete songs if I wasn’t feelin’ the artist’s personality. But as you listen to these artists’ songs, you learn about their characters and that they are just as human as we are. Kanye has done and said many things in recent years that I disagree with. But I don’t hate him for it ’cause I know the brother is suffering. He lost his mother and is a celebrity workaholic, so he gets rarely any time to mourn. So when he blows up, he gets caught doin’ crazy shit in public.
Metaphaurus the Man
“META” is very autobiographical and seems to define a lot of your values. Do you consider this the song that defines you most? If not, which track of yours best illustrates who you are as both an MC and as a man?
“Meta” definitely describes me best, otherwise I wouldn’t have named it that way. It’s the perfect mixture between some of what I consider my hardest bars and also the realest ish I’ve ever written on a track. Honor, loyalty, ambition… I wish for people to listen to the track and think of these words.
Obviously “FAILURE” is a track borne from a lot of struggle with naysayers/doubters and personal loss. How long has that song been brewing inside you?
It’s a song that I didn’t know how to make until I became more experienced. I been hated on since the jump, so hate is nothin’ new to me. But I didn’t know how to respond at first. Now that I’m more confident in myself and my abilities I can make songs like these to let my haters know that I ain’t budgin’ for them.
You talk about being a pastor’s son and the hypocrisy of the Christian church in your community. I also grew up in the church and also had to reevaluate my participation in it and organized religion. So I understand firsthand the complex relationship between personal faith and organized religion/religious institutions. How much of your relationship with religion and the church has influenced you as an artist?
As a pastor’s son, church was an enormous part of my life. Some of my ride-or-dies come from church and it’s also where I learned a lot of my core values. Even though church is where I learned about a higher power, it is also where I learned about the cruelty of man. As a pastor, my father was targeted by envious councilmen, church members who disagreed with his message, and religious zealots who are afraid of harsher truth. Because my father was targeted, our family was the center of everybody’s scopes and we could not walk around without being judged.
Church is where I experienced some of my greatest memories but also some of my worst. It most definitely had an impact on my craft and you will hear it through my lyrics.
New Faces, Same Passion
Korean/Korean-American rappers have come further along in being accepted. (With the likes of Dummie, YOX, Uzuhan, even Jay Park being signed to Roc Nation.) But it still seems like there’s a long way to go before Korean rappers are legitimately accepted as part of hip-hop. Do you feel that way? Do you think there are still barriers for Korean/Korean-American rappers? If so, why do you think that is?
I feel that Hip-Hop is beginning to become more accepting of different faces and different sounds. Any formula becomes redundant if overused the same way for too long. So people crave something different when they get bored. Despite this, I believe we Korean-American rappers have a long way to go. As many people as there are who want change, there are so many more who want to keep things the same. I believe we’re in that sweet spot where more people are starting to look for something different rather than the same old formula.
Your “Summer Sessions” mixtape is CRAZY! Making bars that hard-hitting in under two minutes is insane. You shoutout G Yamazawa in your track “North Cack.” How much of an influence is G to your work?
G Yamazawa is a super dope, super talented artist. You don’t find many artists who know how to make both real music and bangers. G is definitely one of my favorite underground MC’s and is a force to be reckoned with in the next comin’ years.
What other Asian-American rappers (besides you and G) do you think people need to know more about?
MC Zuko, Bambu, Year of the Ox, China Mac.
You also shoutout Beastie Boys with “Intergalactic.” Were they an influence for you?
Beastie Boys weren’t particularly a huge influence on me besides a couple of their hits. But I always wanted to spit over that “Intergalactic” beat since before I became a rapper. I remember makin’ the ugliest stank face listenin’ to that beat for the first time. So that was just a little gift I gave to 13-year-old Meta.
Lift Yourself
You throw a little shade at Kanye in “Lift Yourself.” Was that more of a “diss” or a cry-out for him to try to elevate himself once again?
I don’t really remember throwin’ shade at Kanye in that verse. But if I did, it was definitely for him to wake up.
“Control” is definitely a track that I can identify with. Was that track a long time in the making? Do you mind sharing what was the moment that made you write something so poignant? Does relistening to the song help you get through dark moments?
“Control” was another one of those songs that I always wanted to make but had to wait for the right time to release. I’ve dealt with drug addiction my whole life, and everybody has dealt with addiction in some form. So it was a song that I feel was necessary for myself and the listeners. It’s one of my favorite tracks because I can listen to it months later and the lyrics could be more relevant than ever. That’s how you know you’ve made something timeless.
There’s still taboo around talking about mental health, self-medication, identity, etc. in hip-hop (particularly for Korean and Black artists). Why do you think that is? What do you think will finally break the taboo?
It is the pride of men. Being mentally unstable is considered weak amongst most people. But the fact of the matter is, we’ve all grown up with mental scars that require some kind of healing. I believe the strongest people are the ones who own up to their mental health state and choose to heal themselves rather than concealing it for the sake of ego. This kind of taboo will break only once we all start talking about it.
What’s the most important thing you’ve learned in the past two years?
The most important thing I’ve learned in the past two years is that if you have to compromise who you are and what you stand for in this genre, then no amount of fame or money is worth it.
On to the Future
What advice would you pass on to younger artists who want to make it as rappers?
Without patience in this game, you will most definitely fail or taste success only to crash and burn after the trend dies. It’s all about legacy, legacy, legacy…
What can fans look forward to from you in the future?
Definitely more music, more videos, more bars, and consistency. Too many things have been holding me back and now I have no excuses.
Any final thoughts?
I almost quit bein’ a rapper this year, but that was just me bein’ insecure and ungrateful for my talents. I’ve discovered a new flame and I don’t plan on quittin’ for anyone’s opinion including my own. Thank you to my homies who’ve pushed me and supported me up til this point. “Metaphaurus” is nothin’ without y’all.
I can’t emphasize enough how important it is for an artist to know himself. Metaphaurus is so self-aware, and aware that his “self” still needs work. But his optimism, his eagerness to be the best man he can be manifests as some incredible music. That is the nature of hip-hop: reflective, honest, raw. Real. Metaphaurus is real. He’s bringing his brand of realness to the hip-hop world, ready or not.
After officially debuting as a rapper in 2018, Sima Kim reveals the sophomore EP of his alter ego Amismyk. He fashions himself a darker persona that talks brazenly about his fascination with female genitalia and distaste for personal relationships. As far as debuts go, it’s… well, it’s an interesting one.
Dead Rockstar
Let’s just get it out of the way with the first track. Amismyk’s production is bananas! That almost goes without saying. So much of who he is is wrapped up in his ability to make sounds rub against each other in unexpected and downright uncomfortable ways. No matter what he does, his music is never going to let you down as an adventurous listener. In terms of the actual rapping itself, opening number “Dead Rockstar” isn’t exactly a good indication of his skills up to this point. Him pretty much droning on about how he’s a dead rockstar while letting the music take point.
Nobody
The first time we actually hear him flex his muscles as a rapper comes with the next track, “Nobody.” This is when the EP starts in earnest. Lyrically, there’s not much to hold onto here. It’s a lament that’s easily identifiable — realizing the person you thought you wanted was a complete waste of your time and emotions. Then devolving into bouts of overexaggerated machismo.
Lyrics like, “I don’t like you just like your pussy” and “All little bitches crush on me” do very little to endear the MC persona to me. While there’s some universal meaning there, “Nobody” isn’t the track one would listen to for its actual content. Rather, the droning of the almost metallic delivery coupled with the thick atmospheric production does the work of making this song palatable.
One of a Kind
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately depending on your focus) this is a trend throughout the entire EP. Lyrics that fall short of anything either interesting or impressionable. “One of a Kind” is the most effective as a legitimate “turn up” song. That is a track that would find its place in a club where twerking was the imitation of the day. But again, this has more to do with the overall mastery of Amismyk’s production. Though we’ll have to agree to disagree about his uniqueness as an MC, I can’t deny his musicality is a rarity.
Without Feathers
Then we move on to “Without Feathers,” his duet with rapper Leni. This is by far the album’s most emotionally weighty track. It’s the first notion that Amismyk might actually be taking the craft seriously, if only for the few moments of its running time. There’s something really poignant in the push and pull of the music. As if the composition dragged the song out of Amismyk by force. It’s sluggish, but not lazy. A real emotive bit of sound nestled between work that’s seemingly more superficial.
Swaying
“Swaying” ends the album on something playful. Just as with the track that opened the album, there aren’t many actual lyrics to judge it by. I’ll give the song full marks for being a bright spot on the album amidst a lot of heavy, dark, and gritty.
Unplugged
Bonus track “Unplugged” is another glimpse into the emotional musician that is Sima Kim. As Amismyk, he uses more of his abrasive and oftentimes cartoonish lyricism to actually express a cloudy bit of ennui on his part. Declaring, “I’m over it,” he seems to be pulling back the veneer of a wholly unserious rapper to implore us to realize this is all a sham. That he only removes his guards for someone special (“You know who I am”; “You are my everything”). Another surprising track that hints that there might be something more meaningful in his future.
“Amismyk” the MC
Let’s just make something plain, Sima (under his alter ego Amismyk) is not a rapper. If the interview we had last year holds true, he doesn’t even seem to want to be. His goal is to “have fun and make money.” He certainly appears to be taking the piss. Basking in what most consider the simplicity of rapping.
His past work, at least, suggests that he’s done the same thing. Then we get “Dead Rockstar,” which seems to indicate that he might be learning how to craft something out of his nonchalance with the genre. While it would still be a stretch to call him a rapper, I will concede that with “Dead Rockstar” Amismyk has found an amicable relationship between his very intricate production and half-serious delivery and lyricism.
His style of MC is derivative, mostly uninteresting. Those stalwart of the genre could almost be insulted. But perhaps that’s the ultimate point. In style he’s pointing out and making light of the laziness of current rap trends (what many might label “anti-rap”) perpetuated by those who, like him, claim to only want to have fun and make money. Setting himself up as an example of where hip-hop could end up under its recent title as “most popular” genre.
Overall Concept
Listening with my eyes closed, I see a vivid image. A robot chasing his human master through the crowded streets of Tokyo. The overarching theme here is he is an animated bit of AI that has lived so long among the humans he wants to be them. He acquires/practices the language of the flesh bags. Their slang, the affected and exaggerated masques of blackness. (Something they’ve not so surreptitiously dubbed “internet language.”) He clings desperately to the hope that if he copies them enough he will eventually become one of them.
Amismyk is the robot giving chase. He wears rap at the surface like a costume. His ultimate goal is to appear to be human even as his digital mimicry of the craft glitches, rags, and stutters along. AI that’s decided it wants the feeling of being “real,” with all the flaws and seeming material reward of those who created him.
Conclusion
In the long run, “Dead Rockstar” is forgettable lyrically. BUT (and, yes, this is a huge “but”) you couldn’t in any good consciousness deny the innovations in composition, production, and the ability to use those innovations with a chopped, screwed, and feedback-gritty delivery. One could almost forgive the mostly stream-of-conscious but wholly derivative lyricism because the music itself is just so damn good.
Almost.
For me, an album must be the full package. This almost quadruples in my mind when it comes to any of the many avenues of hip-hop. Lyricism is God in the world of an MC. However, perhaps Amismyk is attempting to make the music the focal point, throwing it all the way back to the early ’80s when the MC was almost an afterthought. I don’t know if he’s that versed in hip-hop’s history. If I were to force myself to give him a pass when it comes to the lackluster verbiage, that would be it. Otherwise, just bow down and weep at his feet for the compositional work he put together here.
“Dead Rockstar” officially releases June 15. To pre-order the album go to Sima Kim’s Bandcamp page.
When it comes to hip-hop, it’s hard to sift through the dregs to find someone genuine. Someone who keeps the spirit of the genre and its history nestled closely to their own understanding of the craft. LA-based rapper AYEKAY was a risk for me. Going through his discography, however, kept me intrigued long enough to really want to get to know him.
Following the release of his latest effort, “Mo Sex,” he took some time to answer a few questions for us and introduce himself to our readers.
There was a lot of expectation for the ERR;OR Showcase. With the lineup it was easy to believe it was going to be quite a spectacle. Some of the performances were just that: exciting, tantalizing, outrageous. Others… not so much. When it came time for MKIT RAIN to hit the stage, there was a tangible anxiousness in the crowd. As it turned out, the crew was the perfect way to close the evening.
There are few artists who live up to the mystery they project on camera. I can say unequivocally Colde is such an artist. It’s more than just the signature cap he pulls over his head (a seeming trend among artists of this new wave of R&B crooners from Korea).
He’s completely wrapped up in the persona. His aura is tinged blue, thus the deep purple hue he emits under the harsh red stage lights. As the third act of ERR;OR NYC’s showcase at SXSW, the mood of the night changed completely when he stepped up to the mic.
As someone who writes a lot of critique, there are times when you just don’t know what to say. Words quite literally fail you. This is especially true for moments when an experience leaves you so utterly awe-inspired, so emotionally moved the prim professionalism of a music journalist seems petty. This is what happened to me following Epik High’s Austin stop of their North American tour. At times like these there’s really only one thing to say:
