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Rapstar | Pitchfork


New York are masters of anhedonic pop. The drolly named duo—26-year-old Estonian efficiency artist Gretchen Lawrence and 24-year-old Senegalese-American visible artist and mannequin Coumba Samba—ostensibly draw from membership music and hip-hop, however you possibly can’t think about their second album, Rapstar*, giving anybody the vitality to carry their toes from the bottom. It’s remarkably dead-eyed music, characterised by Samba’s sardonic deadpan and chilly minimalist glitches that sound just like the Sheffield experimental duo snd as lined by the women from Gossip Lady. Probably the most excitable that the 2 musicians sound on Rapstar*—which isn’t very excitable in any respect—is once they splice their voices collectively on the title monitor to ship a terse, twisted evaluation of recent life: “The federal government will fuck you/And declare you deserve it.”

The place a lot prototypical “Gen Z music” makes use of maximalism to seize a way of overwhelmed disaffectedness—suppose Babyxsosa starting a music by yelling and ending it as if she’s been distracted by her cellphone—New York take a special tack. Rapstar* is each mundane and disorienting, right down to its format: On Bandcamp and streaming companies, it’s been inexplicably break up into two volumes, subtitled Aspect A and Aspect B, which means that you simply’ll need to make a playlist of all of the tracks to hear in a single go, or in any other case fiddle with Spotify midway by way of, as for those who’re flipping a document. On “bronx,” Samba repeats the phrase “Within the Bronx I stroll” till it takes on the character of Sisyphean battle; on “no bra,” London-based efficiency artist No Bra mutters about “Making out with no gown” over a subliminal, mutant footwork beat and improvised piano, making for an disagreeable however resolute reply to the query, “What does a intercourse jam sound like for a technology that reportedly hates intercourse?” It’s continuously irritating music, however for those who’re somebody who’s continuously irritated by the world round you—who, for instance, desires to scream about the truth that there are two Clean Avenue Coffees inside 100 toes of Tottenham Court docket Street station—it could possibly really feel sort of soothing, a illustration of modernity that depicts life as neither distorted and maximalist nor gloomily dystopic, however someplace within the center.

New York’s debut, 2022’s darkly humorous No Sleep Until N.Y., leaned sufficient into electroclash and ’00s signifiers—skinny denims, the aforementioned Gossip Lady lilt of Samba’s voice—that it may broadly be tied right into a broader reappraisal of “indie sleaze” and weblog home, an thought furthered by final yr’s “evening n day,” on which they flipped the hook of Ladytron’s “Seventeen” into one thing even creepier and extra miserable than the unique. Rapstar* nonetheless sort of feels like “Sneakers,” notably on “kicks,” on which Samba recites lyrics about shoe dependancy over an IDM hum, however it additionally feels much less indebted to the previous than earlier New York music.

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