As we have seen many Fridays prior, there was plenty of music to go around. If you are a rap fan, there was a glut of different subgenres of rap to please you. You like trap? Well, arguably the two biggest trap rappers of the last decade surprise-dropped a collaboration album last night: Future and Lil Uzi Vert’s Pluto X Baby Pluto. You want to hear some hilarious bars with star-studded features? Give the legendary 2 Chainz’s So Help Me God! a listen. Hell, you want to hear some great hyper pop mixed with emo rap—listen to the cluster of singles Rico Nasty carved out called OHFR?
But if you have read my previous work, you know that I’m looking forward to listening to these projects (especially Rico Nasty!!), but had no intention to write about them. I will leave those pieces to the trap experts at Burbs and talk about the album that not too many critics are talking about. And believe me, it is worth talking about.
Before I talk about this album, I want to bring up an anecdote. About a year ago—one month into writing for Burbs—I was in need to write about something, but for two weeks, there was minimal music that enticed me to write about it. I frantically searched through the internet to gain some sort of inspiration. During this expedition for inspiration, I scrolled through my camera roll, and through the barmy gallery, I happily stumbled upon an old Danger Incorporated concert I went to last November. As I “relived” the concert, I laughed and smiled at the ample amount of screams from yours truly. Right before I closed the excessive video, a video of Father performing the epic classic “Mirror” flashed upon my screen like a shot from God. I listened and simply forgot two things: the first being that I forgot how gnarly a performer Father was, and the second being that I haven’t listened to him in a hot minute. I enjoyed some of his work on his fourth album Awful Swim, but really never gravitated to it as much as I should’ve. So, I made one of my favorite musical decisions that I should really do more often: I simply typed his name in on Spotify.
I expected to just try listening to his previous albums, seeing if I really enjoyed his music, when another gift from God came before my eyes. About a week earlier, Father had actually dropped an EP called Hu$band. When I saw this opportunity, you can believe I hopped on that mofo. Like always, I threw on my headphones, laid down, and immersed myself in the music.
After the copious amount of drug references and hard flexes, I was hypnotized. The best way I can describe it is as “angelically grotesque.” But after that, I wrote a review the next day. After almost a year of listening, I feel the exact same way I felt as when I wrote the review. So, after that review, I have been yearning and patiently waiting for his fifth album. I thought my wait was over when his next EP Tha Thingz I Do 4 Money dropped, but to be honest, I was very disappointed. This Father was just not the same. But, the day I’d been waiting for finally came last Friday. Father’s fifth album Come Outside, We Not Gone Jump You is finally here. So, I did exactly what I did last year: I threw on the headphones, laid down, and immersed myself in the music.
And once again—as you can probably tell from this absurdly long intro—this mofo did not miss. I cannot put into words how much I enjoy this album. So, I won’t. Well, that’s all I got. Peace!!
Just kidding. Father brought a lot of the great qualities from Hu$band into this album. We see a plethora of spacy beats, with a mix of great trap 808s. We see an extremely multi-dimensional Father, who is constantly switching from first gear to sixth gear in regard to his flows and vocal performances. And of course, we see the hilariously grotesque sexual references drizzled all over each of the tracks. This is what all the Father fans love about him.
So, as I fell deeper and deeper in love with this record as a whole, I fell deeper and deeper in love with the production, in specific. Each track is not dominated by the production, but rather is simply complete. Lots of rappers—especially trap rappers—can be saved by a tremendous beat if their flows are mediocre. Father is not like these trap rappers. Each instrumental has a sort of otherworldly, spacy, or slight bareness to it (believe me, this is a good thing). With this choice of instrumentals, it allows Father to use a variety of flows and vocal pitches to not just complement the song, but practically fuse into it. Doing this, Father practically blends into every track excellently. The tracks morph together abnormally, but perfectly.
This blend is not the only thing that is abnormal. If I am writing about Father, I have to put down the weirdest bars that he uses, or else it wouldn’t be a Father review. Whether it's, “Where the cake at, I tryna face that,” or, “Still tryna paint the walls with your skin tone,” you are about to get some classic horny Father bars. As some may criticize these bars because of the uncomfortable subject matter, I would rebuttal with, “just have some fun in life.” Like, Jesus Christ—these bars are undeniably funny and uncensored, so you might as well enjoy them. Also, you should enjoy them because they are fucking funny, crafty and on top of really crisp beats. Okay, maybe I am immature and find sex jokes kind of funny, but if that isn’t your cup of tea, Father does include some important subject matter, talking about his avid support in the BLM movement and recently living up to his name—becoming a… father.
At the end of the day, I can constantly repeat my sincere love for Father’s work, but the only way you will have the possibility of receiving this type of gratitude is by listening to this album. If you give yourself a quick 22 minutes to listen to it, you will not be disappointed. Father’s approach to each record is soothing and gives your body involuntary movements of crisp rhythms. Father’s relaxed and squeaky voice is alluring on its own, but his voice is enhanced on top of these beats. All I ask is a listen from my readers. Well, that’s all I got. Peace!!
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