Earl’s “Some Rap Songs” sounds like it was recorded using a cassette tape and a pair of knockoff Apple EarPods, so why is it so good? Jordan Brodie Follow Dec 1, 2018 · 4 min read

On Thursday I was sitting with one of my roommates as he was playing songs from Logic’s Everybody. Sure, Logic has a good bar every once in a while, but I find his matter-of-factness to be jarring, especially when he discusses mental health. I tried to explain this to my roommate, but to my dismay I could not think of an example of album that addressed mental health issues stylistically and poetically without being direct. And then, like a gift from the clouds, Earl dropped his new album on Friday.

Today, Thebe Neruda Kgositsile, better known as Earl Sweatshirt, released his highly anticipated album Some Rap Songs (SRS). Earl fans have been waiting for this album since early 2015, when Earl released his well-received “I Dont Like Shit; I Don’t Go Outside” and a short 10 minute tape called “Solace”.

On SRS, Earl manages to mature his sound while still sounding like the Earl we first met with the infamous “Earl” Youtube video, where Thebe and his Odd Future friends drink the craziest drug cocktail imaginable. The lyrics are blunt, dark, and catchy. Songs such as Red Water, an 8 bar loop of what can best be described as an oedipal soliloquy, bluntly invites the listener into Earl’s dark comedy as he mourns the death of his father.

For the uninitiated listener, the production on SRS will be jarring, to say the least, and very jarring, to say the most. This production on this album sounds like it was recorded with cassette tape and a $10 pair of knockoff Apple EarPods. Yet not only does the distorted production work, but it’s incredibly catchy too. Earl, who is credited with the majority of the writing and production on this project, uses the graininess of his beats to create a sound that perfectly fits his tragic poetry. It’s hard to focus on Earl’s lyrics at times, but I think that’s the point. Even the title, SRS, hides the messages of the album; it’s just another way for Earl to say that he doesn’t really want you to hear what he has to say. This theme is also supported by the album art (shown above.) In just 24 minutes, Earl manages to make the listener truly feel his emotions instead of telling you about his problems(see Logic).

This project, which Redditors are already calling the AOTY, is in many ways the antithesis to Earl’s friend and Odd Future founder Tyler, the Creator’s Flowerboy. Flowerboy was my favorite from 2017; it’s bright and orchestral production makes it feel like you’re watching a movie. But if Flowerboy is a movie, SRS is like one of those Adult Swim Infomercials that makes you question every single action you’ve ever made in your life. SRS’s apparent lack of features, choruses, and interludes flips the image of a beautiful album on its head so much that it made me question my definition of what makes music beautiful.

Not only is SRS about half the length of a traditional album, but the album is so muddy and skips from track to track so quickly that it’s almost as if Earl was trying to give the listener as little as possible before he can turn off the mic and go mourn the losses of his father, South African poet Keorapetse Kgositsile, who is sampled posthumously on “Playing Possum” along with Earl’s mother, Cheryl Harris.

Earl depicts the darkness of depression in a way that few could in songs like Red Water and Nowhere2Go. Sure, the production is muddy, but it honestly would sound weird it you could hear every sound clearly. This is an album about sadness, grief, and alienation. The stylistic choices made here represent his mental state in a way that fits beautifully with the rest of the album.

If you’re listening to this album and don’t quite get it yet, stop listening and listen to something else — chances are, it won’t feel right. Whether you realize it or not, Earl bring you right next to him within what Kanye would call the Sunken Place.

So even though the mixing sounds about as good as The Kingsmen’s Louie Louie, it fits the tone of the album emotionally. Earl, the son of South African poet Keorapetse Kgositsile, hides his own poetry within the cloudiness of his beats so well that it’s hard to appreciate his lyrics unless you listen along with some lyric sheets (thanks, Genius.)

Some Rap Songs is by no means perfect, but it’s not supposed to be. Instead, the album utilizes imperfections to convey a message about Earl’s mental state so well that you genuinely feel Earl’s grief. If you have not already, please give this album a chance. You may not love it, but you’ll feel it.