With his most recent EP, “Maybe…,” FLANNEL ALBERT offers perhaps his cleverest and most personal to date. In just three songs, he manages to pack so much of that signature snark, intelligence, and lyrical dexterity that’s garnered him a very loyal fan base.
It’s been eleven months since FLANNEL ALBERT blessed listeners with his debut full-length album, “YEAH, no.” In that time he’s stayed plenty busy: collaborations, singles, a new friendship with rising rap star LATE LEE. The guy’s had much on his plate. In that time, he’s managed to release two EPs. His most recent, three-track album “Maybe…,” is perhaps his cleverest and most personal to date. In just three songs, he manages to pack so much of that signature snark, intelligence, and lyrical dexterity that’s garnered him a very loyal fan base.
cheat
Quite lofty introduction, I know. In saying all that one might expect the EP to start off with something startling brilliant, cerebral. However, the opening track takes a moment to warm up. But when it does, you realize just how smart this man really is. “cheat” is quite an interesting track. It opens in much the same vein as singles “aok” and “i don’t wanna dance.” Lyrically it’s a lot of ego anointing and bollock weighing. At first listen it makes one question the musical growth. What about this song separates it from much of the same rap-sing we get from newer artists seeking a spot in what’s becoming a well-saturated market?
However, it’s what happens throughout that really makes you invested in Albert and what he offers as a musician. While it stays in line with the type of music we’ve come to expect from him–playful production with tongue-in-cheek lyricism–the construction speaks more to his classical upbringing than perhaps the conventions of hip-hop. At the 2:17 mark, there’s a very subtle coda. From the cartoonish tinkle and whimsy of the keyboard, we get a dirty breakdown you’d expect in an R&B song taking a turn for the guttural. At that moment Albert’s delivery and even the slant of his lyricism becomes more ferocious.
After he proclaims, “You have a tendency to hang with only thot-y-ass dudes that be prayin’ for the sweep when I dust your whole crew,” it’s as if the man has a vendetta. Not only does the entire mood shift, going from “ke-ke” to “snatch your whole life,” he spins his wordplay like Rumpelstiltskin turning hay to gold. First Albert mocks someone’s attempt to test him for the obvious cover-up of overt insecurities it is. Then the whole thing spirals to a four-part harmony that creeps up and blasts through the track like a petty piece of hallelujah. From there we return to the previous composition, but there’s something slightly darker at the edges. It’s as if the jaunt he took down his road of verbal evisceration has turned the sound sour. (Think Clock Town in “The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask” on the Final Day.)
Thus one has to listen very closely to the tenor of Albert’s music. It seems like typical fare, turn-up tracks with either self-congratulatory quips or tales of hit-it-and-quit-it escapades with starry-eyed females. But the twist in the EP’s opening track was a warning: there’s more here than what you may initially believe.
mulan
Admittedly, “mulan” had to grow on me. It’s another track that takes a moment to warm up to something spectacular. The delivery seems too typical of a generation hell-bent on subverting actual rap skill in order to feign being “ironic.” However, Albert does just that. He paints the entire piece in hilarious irony, using the title (and reference) to a Disney film about a woman who disguises herself as a man to save her father and family. The woman of our leading man’s romantic fixation is more than what she appears to be to other men (and other women fighting for the same attention).
She elevates Albert, just as the Mulan of the cartoon elevates Captain Li Shang’s understanding of a woman’s strength and worth. It hearkens back to this realization about gender roles Albert has explored in his music. He could lower himself to society’s perceptions of the role this woman is supposed to play. But there’s something deeper there for the Albert of this song’s narrative. Just as he throws away the understood concepts of masculinity, he doesn’t expect his “Mulan” to wear a mask of trained femininity.
Beyond the narrative intricacies, that Mista Bradley production is undeniable. Within the chintz of the lyricism and the almost cartoonish bravado, some of the wordplay is just cold as ice. Even the comment about finally having a use for all his shirts has intellectual merit. Of course, the overexaggerated machismo does the job it’s meant to: complete the conceit of a film that’s based in truth but is ultimately an animated adaptation of very real emotion.
overdriven
It’s interesting that the heart of the album comes at its end. “overdriven” is a track that very openly digs into the pain of choosing his passion over familial expectations. The song has some very serious Chance undertones: the dark slant of the production, the gritty underbelly of his vocal delivery. Think “Acid Rain” or the last 1:15 of “Pusha Man“: a slithering composition that squirms in your brain with lyrics that are sharp and heavy like a mace.
So much of who Albert is seems drenched in an unwavering goofiness that manifests in the most entertaining rhyme schemes. But at times that wit is used to paint rainbows over very dark skies. We’ve talked about this, conversations with his mother, coming to grips with the fact that while her love is unwavering, sometimes support is tenuous. Among all the boasting, the success that’s followed him in rapid waves in the past year, the collabs, there’s still so much insecurity sticking in his sides.
It’s been nearly five months since our conversation, yet it appears that the question of if this is what he should be doing still lingers like a splinter in his thumb. It aches and throbs and sticks in him wherever he goes, snagging on his self-confidence whenever he’s not thinking about it. But ultimately he has to press on because what else can he do? This art, this music, this dream, it owns him. The damn thing just won’t let him go–and the biggest part of him doesn’t want it to. Still, at moments like this it’s clear it can be difficult to enjoy the fruits of all his labors.
Conclusion
FLANNEL ALBERT has a way around music that’s really remarkable. It may take you a second to find a path, but once you do, dear God will you ever be on a journey! He manages to make what could be considered just a bit of raunchy camp (à la artists like Coley or Wax) into something eerily sinister, at times toeing the line between black comedy and heavy introspection. “Maybe…” is proof positive that with Albert there’s always more than one side, always more hidden between the rays of sunshine if you look close enough. With this latest effort, Albert sets himself up as the Wilhelm Grimm of hip-hop–a fanciful storyteller with a bit of darkness between the bars.
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Edited by Lena