Dead End Hip Hop

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Jake Milgate

Elcamino – Walking On Water [Album Review]

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If you haven’t gotten in tune with the Buffalo hip-hop scene as of yet, you’ve seriously been missing out on some great music. The emergence of Griselda Records and their artists (Westside Gunn, Conway and Benny) have placed a spotlight on the city, something that Buffalo, along with the rest of Western New York, as not seen in regards to their music scene. Elcamino is also one of those emerging artists. After coming off his strong self-titled solo debut, which was released earlier this year, Camino has graced us with yet another project entitled, Walking On Water. Following a similar grimy tone to it’s predecessor, Walking On Water is yet another example of why the Buffalo scene is worth paying attention to.

Walking On Water is an album of triumph. At the end of the day, Camino is using his music to separate himself from his drug selling past. The “walking on water” concept is employed as a reference to Jesus Christ performing miracles. Camino believes it is a “miracle” he made it out of the streets of Buffalo alive. On the title track, he shares this sentiment: “The shit that I witnessed, you wouldn’t believe…”

The album cover itself, as well as the “Outro”, also pushes the concept that Camino is performing a miracle. Of course, he’s not the first rapper to turn a bad situation into a good one.

So what makes Elcamino’s music stand out amongst others?

Camino is very straight forward when it comes to his raps, something that can become a crutch. However, within the scope of Walking On Water, it works to his advantage. The simplicity and straightforwardness of Camino’s speak feels necessary for the raw content he is speaking on. His scratchy vocals and his “no bullshit” demeanor are enticing.

The production on Walking On Water provides a beautiful canvas for Camino to paint and detail his tales of drug slanging and braggadocio. A handful of the tracks on here, including “Coke” and “Rayful Bag”, are produced by Shay. Other producers that make appearances on here include Rick Hyde, IceRocks, and common collaborator, Boodeini, who produced the entirety of Elcamino’s solo debut.

It is the mesh of the two aspects I just mentioned that make Walking On Water so enjoyable. The beats are grim and stripped down, and they compliment Camino’s similarly grimy lyrics and mafioso content. It’s as if you’re kicking it with Camino himself in a dark alleyway and he’s telling you these stories face to face. It’s a perfect aesthetic for those who are fans of gangsta rap.

One track in particular that highlights this aesthetic is “Peter in a Porsche”, which has a sample of a Lil Boosie track in the beginning; a shoutout to Camino’s Baton Rouge origins. The track then swings into a slow guitar-lead beat with a near desperate sounding soul sample moaning, “Standing on the corner….somebody please…” Camino’s savageness rings soundly on this song:

“I’m having evil thoughts,

Walking ‘round in the dark

Choppa in my hand

I think somebody gettin’ walked

I’m layin’ in your bushes

I think somebody gettin’ stalked…”

It’s as if Camino almost wants someone to test him to prove that he really means everything he says in his lyrics.

There is, however, one instance on Walking On Water where Camino speaks from a more vulnerable state. On the track “Rosemary”, he reminisces his late grandmother and the impact she had on her life. It’s nothing overly complex…but you can hear the pain in his voice. The Al Green sample in the instrumental adds another wave of sorrow to the song. “My heart gone ain’t no replacing you…” Camino states as he recounts the moment he learned of her death:

“My baby sister called me crying,

And said Granny not waking up

I swore that she was lyin’

Yo, I wish that she was lyin’

I’m just sittin’ there silent…”

There are plenty of gangsta rap bangers on here that will almost certainly catch the ears of those who are fans of likes of Mobb Deep, Ghostface Killah, and Raekwon. In fact the song “Coke” shares the sample used on a Ghostface track called “Purified Thoughts”, from his 2010 album, Apollo Kids. The biggest standout banger on this project is “Rayful Bag”. The deep, cavernous piano used on the beat is menacing, as Camino pulls in his fellow Buffalo collaborator, Benny, for one of the most hard knocking thug anthems I’ve heard all year.

This album is a must for those who are fans of the Griselda movement, as well as those with an ear for gangsta rap. Walking On Water is yet another strong entry in the Buffalo, NY hip-hop scene, which continues to grow stronger every year.

Grade: B+

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Jake Milgate is a Staff Writer at Dead End Hip Hop. You can tweet at him here.

Ten Slept-On Rap Albums You Should Listen to Before the End of the Year

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2018 has been an amazing year for rap music on all ends of the spectrum. With so much content being thrown at us on a daily basis, it can be real easy to let some gems fly by our ears, especially when it comes to the underground.

Many have spoken on the album run (“The  Wyoming Sessions”) that Kanye West made this past June, but have overlooked the string of Big Ghost LTD collaborative albums that have been released this year, including: VAN GHOST with DC native, ANKHLEJOHN, and Aguardiente with Jersey MC, CRIMEAPPLE. Big Ghost’s incredible year will be capped off with a collaborative album with the one and only, Ghostface Killah, entitled The Lost Tapes, set to drop on October 5th.  

Instead of playing “catch up” at the last minute, I’m gonna try and help you guys get a head start. Here are ten albums (aside from the two I mentioned above) that your ears need to hear before the year is out.  [Read more…] about Ten Slept-On Rap Albums You Should Listen to Before the End of the Year

Good Morning: Self Reflection and Mac Miller

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[Cover Art] Mac Miller ~ GO:OD AM designed by DJNowGraphics / @djnowgraphics

Photo by DJNowGraphics

 

The past month and a half, for me, has been a candid reminder of the fragility of human life.

I had just recently lost a friend to drug-related issues, so the death of Mac Miller was a profound blow to me. On September 7, 2018, hip-hop lost a very talented artist.

Mac was someone whose music I had become increasingly more drawn to since he released Macadelic in 2012. He had, in my eyes, expanded his artistic palette much further, honed in his lyrical ability, and created a unique little niche for himself within the genre.

I also understood his personal demons. He was never shy about discussing his struggles with depression, loneliness and addiction within his music. Albums like Watching Movies with the Sound Off and his most recent release, Swimming, are just a few of Mac’s projects where he is brutally honest about his struggles. On “I Am Who Am”, a song off WMWTSO, carries these sentiments:

 

“Forfeit in the war, he lays a sword down and walks away

Grabs a 40 from the corner store and begins to contemplate

Dealing with death like he work in the morgue, absorbing the souls

Forgotten, he lost his way

Starring down that barrel, thinking not today…”

 

After his death, I played his music for the entirety of the day. After listening to said albums above, along with others such as his 2014 release, Faces, I came across an album I hadn’t touched in several years: GO:OD AM. I remember playing that album heavily when it came out in 2015 because it was released during my last semester at environmental school. My college experience had changed me permanently. One of the main contributors to my depression is my muscular dystrophy, but the stresses of schoolwork, the potential future, and my chemical imbalance due to excessive drug use only amplified my depression and near-brush with suicide during that time in my life.

As I listened to GO:OD AM again, I began to have flashbacks. All of these past emotions resurfaced once again.

Eventually, I got to “Two Matches”.

I was outside my dorm building smoking a Newport near the bench behind the building. The bench overlooked a cemetery that was also located behind the building.

It was nighttime, and I was all alone, something that became common for me that semester. I would deliberately procrastinate on my assignments to go outside and smoke, whether it was weed or cigarettes. It was how I listened to albums.

I had forgotten how gorgeous that Sounwave beat sounded. I would walk outside with my headphones, pray no one was out on the bench, and walk over by my lonesome and listen to whatever I had found that day. GO:OD AM got that same treatment.

“Two Matches” in particular stood out to me not only for its production quality, but for the sentiment of risk and wonder regarding the future the song discussed:

“Hey, blow out your candles, make a wish

What’s a life if you never take a risk?

Ain’t a place too far, ain’t a dream too big

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little bit of fun (let’s have some fun)

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little bit of fun…”

 

To a budding young nineteen year-old, lyrics like this made the song feel like an anthem.

Some nostalgia kicked in as I replayed songs like “Time Flies” and “Weekend”. I remember having “Time Flies” on repeat for WEEKS. Mac really rode that bouncy, beat beautifully: “You can’t expect the unexpected, these dreams are manifested, from my head into reality, they seems a bit excessive”.

Every track returned me to a another memory. The song “Clubhouse” brought me back to a particularly vivid one.

I’m crumbling weed onto a frisbee inside a cemetery mausoleum with a few friends (the cemetery was a common chill spot for myself and fellow students who lived at the dorm). I had my portable speaker next to me blaring GO:OD AM. I was always keen on showing off my music collection to my college buddies. I became known for it (I may have over-requested the aux a few times). “Clubhouse” was currently the song blaring out of my speaker: “If there’s a list to the top you could sign me up”. God, that hook was catchy. The scratching mixed with that little faint xylophone only amplified the vibe.

Almost every night, I was partying and smoking. However, this particular night would be cut short. After rolling up, a cop decided to pull up to our location. I spent the next thirty minutes ducking from his spotlight behind gravestones until I could make a break for the dorm room. Luckily we all got out without getting arrested.

The loneliness and boredom of being at school triggered my drug use, which ultimately led to me doing poorly in school, which would then lead to me being kicked out of school.

“Perfect Circle” began to play.

Those opening, haunting vocals smacked me with a wave of sadness.

This was a song I used to play a lot during my time at school. A song I always played when I was depressed and alone. I was depressed and alone a lot.

I started to remember the day I found out I was going to be kicked out of school. That night, I got an acquaintance to pick me up a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the liquor store. I went to the graveyard by myself and chugged half of that bitch in less than an hour.

I didn’t give a fuck anymore.

The next thing I remember is waking up with dried vomit on my clothes. It was still pitch black outside and I was still drunk. To this day, I have no idea how I found my way back up to my dorm room that night. It’s honestly a miracle I made it back safe.

As I continued to listen to “Perfect Circle” with tears in my eyes, I began to see the parallels between my prior lifestyle and the one Mac was describing:

 

“I wash these pills down with liquor and fall

Leave it to me I do enough for us all

Got what you need if you like breaking the law

My mother raised me a God”

 

So much similarity between us, yet, I’m still here, and Mac Miller isn’t. Another wave of sadness hits me when I hear:

I’ve been a sinner, I’m just tryna stay

Warm through the winter, and I’ll be on my way

I’m just a drifter, in endless seas of whispers

I just need shelter, give me shelter from the wind.”

 

By the time “Perfect Circle” turns into “God Speed” I’m bawling, knowing the potential fate he wished to prevent had come to fruition:

“But white lines be numbing them dark times

Them pills that I’m popping, I need to man up

Admit it’s a problem, I need a wake up

Before one morning I don’t wake up…”

 

I cried because Mac Miller never had the chance to heal himself, and now he’s gone.

I cried because my friend met the same fate as he did.

I cried because, in reality, it could’ve been me.

I pushed through the tears and eventually finished the album. What had started as a tribute to a fallen artist, turned into a powerful segment of self-reflection and thankfulness for life:

“Gotta thank God every morning that I woke up…”

One of the truly great things I loved about Mac Miller was his relatability to the people of my generation. A piece of Mac Miller existed in everyone. There are “Mac Millers” out there everywhere that struggle with the same issues he did whose fates have yet to be decided.

I guess I survived because I found a balance. That balance was my passion for music and writing.

My demons aren’t completely buried, and my vices still tug at me every so often. I’m not perfect, nor will I ever be. But I feel like I’m in a state of balance in my life currently that I’m comfortable with. To quote the late rapper himself: “But I think that the beauty is in being able to be in both places […] I really wouldn’t want just happiness. And I don’t want just sadness either. I don’t want to be depressed. I want to be able to have good days and bad days. I feel like that’s really important”.

R.I.P. Malcolm McCormick