Underground rap group $uicideboy$ are back with New World Depression, their fourth full-length album. Despite an enormous fan base who will eat this up, had they kept the first four tracks, left the others in the vault, and made it their 29th EP, this would be a much stronger release and made for a far different review.
First, quick background, since perspective matters. I was a young man who had an affinity for music that many view as depressing, such as The Cure, Joy Division, The Smiths, and everything on the 4AD Label—as well as anything raw and street with a beat. I may not be the target demographic for $uicideboy$, but I’m not far removed from the ethos, if it’s done well.
$uicideboy$ duo $crim and Ruby Da Cherry, from Marrero and Metairie respectively, have been together for a decade. Their inspiration by and connection with Three 6 Mafia is well-documented. Ten years is a long time to mine the same existential-crisis street-gothic lyrical territory. While their sound now has a fuller ’90s-era vibe and even strays into Post Malone terrain occasionally, they are in great need of a great producer to step away from an often-rudimentary sound.
From the jump, “Lone Wolf Hysteria” is promising, and the variety of the first three, even four songs, gives a sense of vibrancy, both lyrically and production-wise. After that, the album either simply drops off or becomes a house guest overstaying its welcome, as typified by “Burgundy” with the same beat and female vocal loop throughout. The result: misery feels mundane. “Are You Going To See The Rose In The Vase Or The Dust On The Table” gave me hope until the stacking of multiple lyrical clichés had the thorn in the rose, the dust in the wind, and my patience run thin.
The basic rules of music are ultimately what it comes down to—whether an indie group or with Universal. If you are going to maintain your career with lyrics that sound like Trent Reznor’s messed up little brother spat them out, then the music itself must be fresh. With Nine Inch Nails, Reznor’s words were essentially the same “My life sucks, I want to kill myself”: one-note, but the songs were cathartic bliss. This $uicideboy$ album feels only uncomfortably numb.
Production without the hottest beats only works when lyrics are varied and tell a gripping story a.k.a. Nas. On the other side, if you are going to keep talking the same talk, then the sound must be sonically unique. Think producer Metro Boomin with early 21 Savage. The lyrics were sinister, and the music was deeply compelling. Closer to home, think Mannie Fresh’s inventiveness. Unfortunately, New World Depression simply can’t maintain over the entire 13 songs, and it implodes in upon itself. An insurance ad interruption three quarters of the way through was a welcome relief, and that tells the tale.
Cash Money Records celebrates their 30th anniversary this year. Juvenile, U.N.L.V., and everyone else rapped to get out. To get out of a tough life and seek something better for themselves and their families. The $uicideboy$ (who are white) on the other hand, have willingly chosen to go in. To go in and wallow in that which others will do anything to escape is what some would call a waste of “the protection of the complexion,” to paraphrase Paul Mooney. Trauma porn sells well in suburbia, though.
