Thirty Three RPM editor Alex Thompson dives into the dark and booming sounds of the new Westside Gunn album.
Beginning with a clean cut sample of an auctioneer, exhibiting a $400 million piece of artwork, Westside Gunn immediately conjures an atmosphere of opulence, wealth and power. While these are ideas which he played with on earlier projects, Pray For Paris shows them at their most expansive and, occasionally, their most derivative.
From the luxurious piano twinkle and machine gun adlibs that open the first track ‘No Vacancy’, it’s clear of the mood Gunn is trying to evoke. Contrasting wealth and richness with violence, crime and addiction, the rapper name checks every high-end streetwear brand you can think of. He raps about fine wines, guns and murder with a nasal, Ghostface-esque snarl and vicious lyricism that harkens back to the gritty and moody aesthetics of the hardcore hip-hop of the 90s. This boom-bap flavour characterises the album, dark and twisted hardcore aesthetics that pay homage to the sinister sounds of Wu Tang, Mobb Deep and Capone-N-Noreaga.
‘George Bondo’ follows this same formula, a tinny piano sample bouncing off sluggish drums and some heavy verses from Gunn and collaborators Benny The Butcher and Conway The Machine. It’s nothing new but it’s vicious, no-nonsense grit and it’s hard not to enjoy the rappers trading verses about drug dealing and murder over such an obnoxiously throwback beat. While it may lose momentum as it progresses (before grinding to a halt with a pointless skit) the track is an enjoyable homage to the bygone era of 90s coke rap.
By ‘327’, Gunn realises he needs to change up his style. The track is a fuzzier, woozy rap track that plays with trap influences and features verses from Joey Bada$$ and Tyler The Creator, the production feeling more akin to an early A$AP mob mixtape with its hazy, psychedelic beat. This brings out the best out of all parties, with Gunn, Tyler and Joey all bringing their A game.
Tyler makes a return on the penultimate track ‘Party Wit Pop Smoke’ to provide a scuzzy, fuzzy instrumental that fuses soul samples with twinkling piano melodies. It’s one of the best beats on the album that brings out the best in Gunn, who really knuckles down on the Paris references and litters Parisian locations across the track.
Wale’s snarling bars that cut and weave through ‘French Toast’ offer another interesting counterpoint to Gunn although his “I’m out here in Paris” hook falls a little flat. Joyce Wrice saves the track with a soulful RnB lilt, her vocals and performance bringing a unique energy to the track and keeping it sounding fresh and dynamic.
And there’s yet another pointless outro skit.
The gimmicky machine gun adlibs make an unwelcome reappearance on ‘Euro Step’, an example of where Gunn’s nasal delivery and slightly derivative lyrical content makes the step from fun throwback to pointless rehash. It’s uninspired in its lyricism, derivative in its structure and lazy in its performance. Thankfully it’s quite short. ‘Allah Sent Me’ has more of those whiny, grating vocals opening the track. The verses are actually quite good, playfully flipping boom-bap cliches with a seeming self-awareness - yet the whiny vocal refrains always seem to find a way back into the track the moment you find yourself actually enjoying it. It’s a frustrating listen.
‘$500 Ounces’ thankfully gets the album back on track, bringing in the glorious bars of Freddie Gibbs. Gibbs has proven himself as one of the most consistent and exciting rappers working in the US today, this verse being no exception as he spits airtight flows whilst wallowing in the luxurious samples and horns. Freddie Gibbs was made to spit on beats like these. Roc Marciano, on the other hand, feels slightly awkward on the track, he clearly has the lyrical chops but up against Gibbs his performance feels flat.
Opening with a chopped and skewed gospel sample and yet more machine gun adlibs, ‘Versace’ sees Gunn rush his way to name drop as many brands as possible whilst dropping guns and drugs into the mix, his lacklustre delivery proving that he can’t quite hold his own on a track without a tight, boom-bap beat or the help of collaborators.
‘Claiborne Kick’ proves this hypothesis true - as the slower, calmer beat makes the adlibs seem dumber, the bars seem weaker and Gunn fails to ignite the same kind of spark which makes the better tracks on this album shine. The Alchemist holds his own on the instrumental, but Gunn and Boldy James fall flat trying to spit on a beat where they have nowhere to hide.
All is not lost however. DJ Premier wades in towards the end of the album to chop and scratch on an instrumental which harkens back to the golden age of boom-bap. The beat makes this track pop, kicking and bouncing under Gunn’s more energised and vibrant delivery, splicing samples, a booming drum groove and a driving bassline with some of Gunn’s best bars on the album. Under Premier’s supervision, Gunn is a talent to be reckoned with.
My verdict? Well, if you like your rap music firmly rooted in about 1993 and laced with enough cocaine to kill a small town, this might be the album for you. All jokes aside, there are some real high points to this album and it’s textual richness and flair make it an intriguing listen. Collaborations work well and bring out the best in Gunn, instrumentals sounding fresher and more unique than anything the rapper has spat on before. Unfortunately, the gimmicky adlibs, slightly nasal and flat delivery and occasionally uninspired lyrics mean that it sometimes feels less of a loving homage to boom-bap, and more of a derivative parody.
6.5/10
Alex Thompson
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