Why kush and orange juice
Though he lost his deal with Warner Bros. His rap style is easy and conversational, a pinched murmur that never leans too hard on punchlines or narrative. He's got this donkey giggle that he lets loose often, and it might beat out Lil Wayne's guffaw as rap's most irritating laugh, no mean feat. He sounds like the kid two dorm rooms down, bragging about whatever insane party he was at last night while he munches Froot Loops out of the box and watches cartoons on the common-room TV.
He's charismatic in a completely relatable way. He's also got a great ear for beats. The tracks are airy, diffuse things, full of smooth s-funk synths and drums that amble along slowly and quietly. And rather than bulldozing through these beats, Wiz just dances around them, never letting his delivery settle into a consistent cadence.
Often, he sings his choruses in a calm, casual quaver. Sometimes, he skips rapping altogether. On "Up", he spends four minutes just singing the praises of weed over spaced-out Rhodes plinks, ending by repeating, "Everything's better when you're high," over and over. When a more conventional rapper like Killa Kyleon or Big K. Those guys are both very good at what they do, but they sound almost old-fashioned in this context, nicely breaking up the half-committed shit-talk.
Flanked by a giant inflatable orange, Wiz is greeted like a returning king at the Roundhouse. He arrives wearing dungarees and rocking a cheeky smile, taking thick drags of a joint which looks like a magic wand. The G-funk synths of Mesmorized come in euphoric waves, while the flute sample on The Statement sounds prescient given how the instrument has turned up so prominently on Drake and Migos songs over recent years. In a toxic world teetering on the edge, this kind of stoner idealism feels a lot more necessary than it did back in But with an accompanying drummer and guitarist passionately working these mixtape songs into something a lot bigger sonically, this show rarely loses its energy and hits more than it misses.
A fitting mix for drizzly days and diminishing daylight. In his own words, Damon Albarn describes a life-changing trip to Mali that forever altered his musical path. The Bristol collective are addressing long-standing industry imbalances, and they need your support. The London born-and-raised musician talks self-expression, trusting the universe and treating every day like a fashion show. Support Today. Thanks to our Supporters, we make a magazine on our own terms.