Curren$y Just Made The Realest Quarantine Rap Song So Far

Packs Shipment No. 4

Jul 31, 2020

Photo Credit: Ben Nguyen

“Everything weird.”

I can’t think of another time in my life where that statement applies to so much. The prolonged eruption of Covid-19 has forced us to make this newfound weirdness as normal as possible. It’s hard to walk anywhere without some mention or threat of a mask. In typical fashion, corporations have tried and failed at marketing the weirdness back to us for profit, and the entertainment industry is trying their best to turn our living rooms into music venues. It’s all weird, and it trickles to every aspect of life, including hip-hop.

The musical output in hip-hop has lacked since quarantine began, a time that is best described as a “void year.” Most of the new music aims to either sidestep the current Covid climate or continue the discussion around racial injustice issues that have captivated the entire country for two months. Behind quarantined doors and under the roar of necessary social justice protests, the pandemic is still raging on, but hip-hop hasn’t had much interest in discussing in meaningful ways.

The most valiant effort in addressing the trauma and uncertainty of the coronavirus pandemic came last Friday when Curren$y released his 10th(!) studio album “The OutRunners.” His newest album treads along as a standard Curren$y project does, kickback music with inspirational lyrics disguised as weed raps. But suddenly, at track four, “Gold and Chrome” creeps into the mix.

Here, Curren$y ashes the joint and parks the ‘62 Impala to talk about the unpredictability, trauma, and “weirdness” of this new way of life. It’s a rare selection from Spitta, who is more known for showcasing the fruitions of his hustle than describing the discouraging aspects of his life. Producer Harry Fraud uses a potpourri of nostalgia-inducing sounds—like a lengthy violin rhythm and intermittent horn section to accompany the anchoring guitar chords—to give Curren$y the right table setting to talk about the past, present and future.

Spitta’s lyrical ability shines on Fraud’s sepia-filtered beat, finding slick ways to discuss how our now-necessary behavior has affected his life. “No more high fiving your homies with your palms open/You gotta watch who you go home with it, watch who you smoke with,” he says at the end of the first verse, later affirming the current ethos of the world, where “Being smart's synonymous with germophobics.” He’s still not used to UFC fights without the crowd noise or the NBA being in a “biosphere.” Curren$y describes it best: “Everything weird.”

He reminisces about watching the Mardi Gras parades roll by before the world closed. About his homie he saw cruising the block only a month ago, who ultimately lost his life to the virus like hundreds of thousands have across America. The main object of his musings about the pandemic, however, is his first and only son, who Spitta hopes can “roll on gold and chrome” when he grows up, just like his pops. He displays the concerned optimism of a father when he thinks about the world being back to normal, saying, “I'm sure change gon' take some years/But I hope it all clear before my son hit the streets, trying to shift gears.”

“Gold and Chrome” almost reads like a therapy session, which, for Curren$y, probably looks like a smoking session in the garage with the homies. IN clearing his mind about the stresses around him, Curren$y provided hip-hop the most genuine attempt to tackle the mental stress surrounding the pandemic to date.

In most cases, hip-hop has turned words like “quarantine” and “pandemic” into flexing metaphors. On “Solitaire,” from his new album “High On Life,” Future says, “Coronavirus diamonds, you can catch the flu.” Gunna and Young Thug addressed the pandemic by making “Quarantine Clean,” describing their high-class vibe while stuck in the crib. The examples stretch to Nicki Minaj, Sahbabii, and even Beyonce. Some artists, like Gmac Cash and Trippie Redd, have found ways to be proactive and light-hearted in championing for masks and social distancing, but none have taken the time to discuss the mental trauma that comes with the shutdown.

But there’s no right way to make music about the pandemic. The turnt-up songs that infuse jest with terms that define our everyday weirdness are just as necessary as the serious attempts to put our current situation in perspective. But the latter is lacking in quantity and concerted attempts.

Coronavirus cases and deaths are spiking again, and it looks like we’ll be stuck in the house and out of the mix for the rest of the year (and maybe beyond). Tracks addressing multiple aspects of quarantine will surely pop up as the month in solitude continue. But as of now, Curren$y has the best attempt at truly discussing the strain felt from the pandemic.

Heat Pack

Michael Da Vinci

It makes sense that Chatanooga’s Michael da Vinci was featured on Isaiah Rashad’s 2014 Cilvia Demo EP. Da Vinci is a focused lyricist, creative lyricist in the same way Isaiah is. What doesn’t make sense is how he he’s still so slept on after all these years.

His most recent track “Roid Rage” is a hollowed beat, with little more than rolling hi-hats and simple baselines, but that’s really all da Vinci needs. He fills in the beat’s void with sharp and witty lyricism paired with a smooth flow. The same goes for “High Face, Baby Face,” another relatively simple beat, but da Vinci has the combination to unlock the songs full potential as a true banger. Mick Jenkins, Smino, Isaiah Rashad fans need to get in Michael Da Vinci’s catalogue ASAP.

Unbox Michael Da Vinci: High Face, Baby Face; Ring Ring (Gimmie); Murda

Cookin’ Soul

You should know Cookin’ Soul. You’ve likely heard one of their beats before. With song credits on over 250 mixtapes and albums, the Grammy Award-winning duo and their iconic producer tag have been staples in hip-hop for more than twenty years.

But on their Youtube channel, they’re supplying a steady stream of beats and flips of classic songs from today and the 90s. Flips of Schoolboy Q’s “Numb Numb Juice” and a freestyle from A$AP Rocky are too damn good. Cookin Soul is willing to flip anything and does it brilliantly every time. No one is safe from having their song transformed into Cookin’ Soul’s world of retro, jazzy beats and entertaining video edits, not even Nas’ “One Love” or Thundercat’s “Dragonball Durag.” Let this shit run while you wash the dishes or fold clothes. Cookin’ Soul has a knack for turning the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Unbox Cooking Soul: A$AP DOGGY; One Love; Durag Z

BADBADNOTGOOD x Tyler, The Creator

I’ve generally reserved this spot for older acts. So far, all of the past Heat Packs has featured an artist from no later than 1998. This collaboration between BADBADNOTGOOD (BBNG) and Tyler, The Creator bucks the trend I’ve been going for, but it deserves a remembrance.

Tyler and the four-person Canadian jazz group linked up and created magic together. BBNG created their renditions of “Seven,” “Orange Juice,” and “Fish,” while Tyler helped in a multitude of ways. Whether energetically rapping “Seven” until he broke into a tirade about cheese and scatting(?), or showing his genuine appreciation for being a part of a jam session for the first time for “Fish,” Tyler is the star of the show. His personality demands it. BBNG deserves just as much credit for putting this together and beautifully redoing Tyler’s dark songs into something maybe my dad would listen to.

Unbox BADBADNOTGOOD: Fish; She; Orange Juice

READ RECEIPTS

Craig Jenkins—We’re Witnessing the Total Breakdown of Discourse

“The net effect of speech that closes ranks; that reinforces misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia; that draws wedges between groups that ought to be allies in the struggle for justice is the disintegration of communication.”

Micah Peters—Flo Milli Is Here. Get Used to It.

'“She both floats and stings, often at the same time. She may smooth out a vowel but she never shortens a word. … There’s something playful and implacable about her delivery. It’s not quite like anything else.

Shoutout 60 Days In

My girl and I have been stuck in a television trance since the quarantine hit. When reality comes to a screeching halt, there’s no shame in investing more time and energy into the “reality” of television. The one show that has captured our attention more than any the past six months is, without a doubt, 60 Days In.

The show's premise is pretty simple: civilians volunteer themselves to spend 60 Days in county jail and find out as much as they can. The only people who are aware of these uncover inmates are the jail’s sheriff and close confidants. That’s it. All inmates and correction officers believe and treat them as if they’re regular inmates.

The show’s contestants come from all kinds of backgrounds. Police officers, social workers, school teachers, military veterans, stay-at-home moms, former correction officers, prison chaplains, and Muhammad Ali’s daughter all try to do their time in jail and report back to the sheriff about all the fucked up things going on inside.

It’s interesting to see how everyone thrives and fails while in jail. The jail dynamics and personality changes every episode, and drama comes and goes as inmates are transferred in and out of jail. And every season provides brand new challenges for the contestants as the jail changes from Clark County in Indiana on season one and two, to Fulton County in Atlanta on season three and four, and Pinal County in Arizona on season five.

You get invested not only in the show’s volunteers as they try to find their place as inmates, but also in the actual inmates who have to do real sentences.

Jail is fucked up, a despicable place that institutionalizes and traumatizes everyone who is stuck in its never-ending cycle of violence and racism. The show isn’t there to make jail seem nice. It reinforces all facts we knew about jail, and it gives you real-world examples of it every episode.

So Shoutout 60 Days In.

Welp, hope y’all enjoyed this edition of Packs. We back next Friday with a new delivery.

Between Packs, follow me on all the socials: @Tribecalledni on damn-near everything.

Until next time, be cool.

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