He even got a dog.Īnd after releasing his Technicolor major-label debut Good for You in 2017, and a quick follow-up project in OnePointFive just a year later, Aminé now finds himself on the verge of releasing his true sophomore album. He’s left his native Pacific Northwest, traveled the world, and settled in the land of Erewhon. In that time, the multitalented rapper has gone from a precocious, gap-toothed provocateur bouncing around in the back of his friend’s Honda to one of popular music’s most commanding and eclectic new forces, as comfortable on a track with lo-fi indie rockers Girlpool as he is with Young Thug. I literally played him ‘Woodlawn’ through the phone, and he was dancing in his cell.” It was a bittersweet moment, he says, but in its combination of pop and pathos, the song is characteristic of the career the rapper has forged since his grinning, Habesha visage first grabbed the public’s attention in 2016.īut the four years since Aminé’s career-catalyzing hit “Caroline” rocketed to the top of your summer party playlist (and to #11 on the Billboard Hot 100) feel a little more like 400. The song is dedicated to a close friend who became incarcerated last year: “It was heartbreaking, so I was trying to make a song for him. It’s a nimble anthem of the kind audiences have now come to expect from the 26-year-old artist, but one with a sober backstory. “Came a long way from that Woodlawn Park / Now, Young Aminé pushin’ ‘PUSH’ to start,” he boasts over rubbery 808s and a simpering flute sample on the song’s chorus. He’s talking about “Woodlawn,” a song named after the neighborhood in the Northeast section of Portland, Oregon, where he was raised, and the second track on his new album. Aminé: the sophomore slump’s latest victim."This shit has to be a hit and if it's not, I swear to God I'm going to go crazy,” Aminé says, laughing into the receiver from somewhere in Los Angeles’s San Fernando Valley. The Portland, Oregon, rapper, whose 2016 debut single, “Caroline,” put his name on the map, unfortunately flounders in his sophomore effort, “Limbo.” While the release is a pleasant listen, it pinballs around and jerkily ventures through thumping trap beats, languid production and jazzy instrumentals. This overabundant musical exploration sadly leads to lulls and clipped changes in tone. In line with his sonic shifts, Aminé delves into a myriad of topics in this release, from past romances and race relations to his newfound fame. It seems difficult for the artist to maintain a sense of focus, which can probably be attributed to a desire to branch out from his in-your-face and upbeat debut album “Good For You.” Regardless of the reason, his sophomore record presents a jumble of catchy songs that struggle to unite as a cohesive album or properly showcase his artistic potential.īy welcoming the listener with the opening track “Burden,” Aminé sets expectations high with mellow backup vocals and relaxed guitar chords. His flow is fittingly meta and deliberately slow as he raps about a world in which “when your skin darker, shit gets harder.” Layered falsettos soulfully complement his easygoing verses, which deceivingly mask the weight behind his lyrics about racial injustice and discrimination. Yet the laidback tempo seems to be the only element he retains in “Can’t Decide,” which pairs together a flamenco guitar-esque sound with light trap beats. The unlikely combination melds surprisingly well and is the only silver lining of an otherwise monotonous track about an on-and-off relationship. And unfortunately, other songs like “Mama” and “Easy” are similarly underwhelming because of their boring song structure that leads the listener into a repetitive loop. Regardless of other tracks’ sonic mundanity, lead single “Compensating” is a wonderful example of Aminé’s artistic range as he playfully sings the opening chorus and then immediately transitions into rapping an octave lower. Featured artist Young Thug matches Aminé’s vocal dexterity by easily reaching the high-pitched melodies in their first collaboration, all the while being backed by groovy production. Both rappers admirably acknowledge their past mistakes in relationships, frankly stating “it’s hard to admit that I’ve made my bed/ And you know I’ma always wish you the best.”īut this sentimentality is seemingly thrown out the window with “Shimmy,” as Aminé brags “I’m bigger than Texas, me and God text message.” Clashing harmonies distract from his grandiose claims of owning flashy cars and reaching a level of fame that has earned him haters. The materialistic flexes are a drastic change o f tone, but in an album that hops between genres and topics with no hesitancy, the 180-degree shift frankly does not stand out.Īminé continues chronicling his experiences with fame in “Pressure In My Palms,” which opens with an enticing ghostlike chant of the song’s title.
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