Album Review: King Carter Slums - Haram
Occasionally, someone who knows that I write about music
regularly, or that I am a ‘music guy,’ will inquire as to where I hear about
new music—or at least the kind of slightly more idiosyncratic things I choose
to write (at length) about.
I usually respond by politely saying that I ‘read a lot of
music news.’
What I’ve learned from working alongside a very diverse mix
of people is that we all consume music differently—some people just flat out
don’t listen to music, which I’ll never understand, but that’s neither here nor
there; some people don’t listen to albums from start to finish, which is also
am not sure I understand—instead, they just listen to the songs provided to
them on either the radio, or through a streaming service like Google or Pandora.
Some people hear about new artists through National Public
Radio, or will read a profile in The New
York Times.
It’s easy for me to lose sight of the fact that not
everybody reads the same music websites that I do, or lurks on a message board
where new releases are shared, or is on Twitter, constantly looking for that
next, new, incredible thing to listen to.
Finding something new or interesting to listen to, across
any genre, can be hard; finding something that is new, interesting, and is good
enough for me to sit down and write up some kind of stupidly verbose review of
is even harder; finding something that meets those first two qualifications, plus has the power to be memorable after
I’ve finished writing a review—meaning it’s something I won’t lose interest in
immediately, or get burned out on—is the hardest.
In 2012, when I first started getting really interested in
experimental and ambient music, I found myself falling into a deep hole of
cassette labels—small operations from various pockets of the country that were
all somehow vaguely connected; either the operators of the labels themselves
were friends, or an artist had issued releases for two or three of the labels
in question. It was a fascinating dive into truly independent and underground
music.
Now, seven years later, I’ve found myself on another
fascinating dive into a different genre of truly independent and unground
music.
Rap music is still, despite the dominance it has on Top 40
radio with very commercial and accessible artists, a very polarizing genre—I
work with someone who often states he’ll listen to anything ‘except country and
rap,’ which is a puzzling statement to someone like me.
Rap music can be, at times, an overcrowded marketplace—there
are a lot of artists out there that are trying to make a name for themselves,
and as expected, in an overcrowded marketplace, there is a lot of rap music out
there—both mainstream and underground—that is just fucking awful. If you think
it takes a lot of time and effort to find new music that is worth listening to,
it takes even more time and more effort than I care to share to find rappers
that are doing something remotely interesting and thought provoking.
I have, thankfully, been turned onto a group of artists—many
of them are independent artists releasing their own material via Bandcamp or
simply on Soundcloud (but are not ‘Soundcloud rappers’)—that are making some of
the most impressive and invigorating rap music out there right now. Some of
these artists are members of the same loose collectives or groups, others are
simply peers who collaborate with each other, and support one another,
regularly.
Most recently, thanks to Livingston Matthew (a.k.a. Pink
Siifu)’s Instagram, I was pointed in the direction of King Carter—or, at times,
dubbed King Carter Slums—is a member of the Slums (at times, stylized as sLUms)
collective, an outfit that also features MIKE and Adé Hakim, among others, and
has associations with Earl Sweatshirt and Slauson Malone.
Arriving roughly a year after the sprawling full length, Prisoner of The Mind, King Carter has
returned with an all to brief EP, Haram,
the kind of compelling and captivating listen that leaves you wanting more the
moment it concludes. Bookended by an extended intro track featuring a monologue
from Malcolm X (who also graces the EP’s cover), Haram, which means forbidden by Islamic law, concludes with a five
minute snippet from a 1992 interview featuring a young, and idealistic Tupac
Shakur; with that being said, the EP itself—musically speaking—is a brief 15
minutes, and King Carter wastes absolutely no time delivering a breathless and
unrelenting set of seven tracks that showcase his clever, thoughtful lyrics,
his rapid fire delivery, and fascinating production techniques.
Despite Kanye West’s inclusion of the phrase I Hate Being Bipolar, It’s Awesome on
his album Ye from last year, mental
health has never been something that gets discussed at length, or even
mentioned in passing, in rap music—so one of the things that is so refreshing
about an artist like King Carter Slums, or MIKE, or Earl Sweatshirt, is their
willingness to be open about things like depression and anxiety. Late in Haram, on the stream of conscious “Smack
TV,” King Cater utters the phrase, “My
depression’s stacked up like bills”—my first thought was, “I feel so seen,”
and my second thought was, “God damn this EP is incredible.”
There is a lot to be impressed by while listening to Haram—first and foremost is the blink
and you’ll miss it asides that King Carter punctuates his lyrics with.
Interjecting something clever, or having a sense of humor, within rap music
isn’t a new idea, however, the delivery so straight faced—he never spend time
or energy drawing attention to the joke or reference he’s just made—and this is
what makes it so commendable. Sometimes a performer is almost too clever for
their own good, and you can tell there’s maybe a bit of a wink to the listener
within a specific line—and sometimes this is okay, and it works. Haram works in the sense that it never
takes you out of the moment you’re in, but it takes you out of the next moment
when you stop and ask yourself, “Did he
just say….”
There are almost too many examples to mention—clever asides,
references, and punch lines—but beginning with the opening line to “Swollen
Hands”—“Straight out the dungeon, dragon”—the
witticisms that are peppered into King Carter’s lyrics are nearly as
unrelenting as his delivery itself.
Musically, Haram,
even with its brief running time, is a very diverse soundscape. There is no track
on it that is poorly produced or constructed, but there are pieces that are
better executed—the EP’s proper opening, “Problems,” featuring a blistering
guest verse from Pink Siifu, is glitchy and skittering, and is probably the
effort’s most robust sounding track; in turn, “Smack TV,” arriving near the
EP’s conclusion, is the most lo-fi in its values, with a quiet, short sample
looped over the aforementioned stream of consciousness delivery. “Swollen
Hands” is the most bombastic, juxtaposed with a simmering slow jam loop on the
reflective “Love Me.”
Haram concludes
with its most jubilant track, the painfully short “Sunshine,” a two minute song
that then, gives way, to the inclusion of the lengthy interview segment with
Tupac Shakur—a fascinating way to wrap up the effort, providing the listener
with possibly more questions than answers.
Lyrically speaking, outside of the impressive use of humor
as a device on Haram, King Carter
doesn’t stray too far from topics similar to that of his peers—like Earl Sweatshirt
and MIKE, he is unafraid to mention mental health; like Maxo and Pink Siifu, he
is introspective about his family and his upbringing. He’s charismatic and
energetic—at times possibly becoming too unrelenting in his delivery, though he
is always captivating to listen to.
Haram, due to its
length, certainly does not overstay its welcome, and from the moment it
concludes, leaves the listener wanting much, much more—Prisoner of The Mind is a great place to head to immediately after
you’ve finished listening to this. As with his myriad peers who have released excellent
material within the last year or so, Haram
and King Carter Slums shows that movement within the underground and
independent rap community is huge, and brimming with incredibly talented voices—voices
that command, and voices that demand you listen.
Haram is out now via the King Carter Bandcamp page.
Haram is out now via the King Carter Bandcamp page.
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