By Colin Sharp
Newest kid on the lady rapper block brings an unpretentious freshness with her debut EP
Female rappers are an interesting case study. Despite the fact that we’re approaching 40 years of hip hop, very few female emcees have been able to maintain a lasting career. Queen Latifah stopped making music, MC Lyte faded away, and Lauryn Hill went crazy. I mean, aside from Missy Elliot (who hasn’t done anything herself in seven years) and Jean Grae, where are the respected female MCs?
Part of this may be because of their tendency to fall into stereotypes. They’re either empowered women and respected lyricists like Latifah, or they’re sexualized products that have male rappers ghostwrite their verses, like Foxy Brown or Lil’ Kim. One of the most fascinating and promising things about Azealia Banks, an upstart 21-year-old from Harlem, is the way she blends several aspects of what it previously meant to be a female in hip-hop.
Banks attacks every track she is on with fervor. The technical skills and flow she displays on every track are incredibly impressive. She has the kind of talent that usually results in a female rapper like Jean Grae that tries to seem like one of the guys, but Banks fully embraces femininity — she just happens to do it in an incredibly abrasive way. Strip away the pop music veneer of Nicki Minaj and you’ll start to get an idea of Banks.
1991 is the first collection of music from Banks. It’s good to see that she’s stuck with what makes her a unique talent in hip hop. The result is a type of music that hip hop should have had years ago. Artists like M.I.A. and Santigold are frequently referred to as rappers despite the minimal amount of time they spend rapping. Azealia Banks takes a similar aesthetic, grabs the tracks with the hardest drum tracks, and actually raps. It’s not exceptionally creative, but it is an appreciated progression of this style.
All the songs on the EP are enjoyable and upbeat, but it still manages to go into a tailspin halfway through. The track “Van Vogue” closes with two minutes of distorted vocals with no backing track. With a meager four tracks and a total running time of a little over 16 minutes, devoting two minutes to this is a waste of time. That’s an acceptable move when your name is Ghostface Killah, the distorted vocals involve getting Raekwon to talk shit about 50 Cent, and none of this happens until the end of Supreme Clientele, one of the finest hip hop albums of all time. When you’re Azealia Banks though? Not so much.
The EP recovers though, and 1991 is a great listen. Don’t expect to come away with a new opinion on what hip hop can be, but do expect to have a fun time dancing around to some obscene lyrics.
