After a certain point, I have to actively detox from the bullshit I've been featuring here. Relaxing to some Conway and Meyhem is a full-service sauna experience.
Last time I was writing about Conway, it was my birthday, back before I caught the Griselda Records backstory in full. That was cool, but catching the whole mixtape catalog really set me straight. Like I said back when, the Buffalo brothers can spit. Like Metallica lead singer James Hetflield once observed, nothing else matters.
Our partisan deathwish for 1) Meyhem Lauren verses and 2) black-metal heavy Prog Rock breaks from East Coast producers ... that's no secret, now. You already know this is going to be a good review.
I've said a lot of unkind things about Marshall Mathers over the years, but his willingness to bet the farm on Conway and Westside Gunn is enough to redeem it all.
The fact these two artists are related by blood says uncomfortable things about genetics and destiny. The fact they've been getting such steady media coverage in the past 60 days indicates they're ready to work and comfortable going big. This machine is already in motion.
Watching human civilization unfold is a continuous lesson in unintended consequences. Watching the corporate apparatus of Interscope being used to spread the purist nihilism of Mobb Deep, well, that's almost beautiful. That almost makes all those singles with Skylar Grey and Dido seem like a good idea for the human species.
They weren't, though. They were not, and any success that the Griselda crew carve out from here was the result of their own talent and hard work. This is one of those anomalies, like Digital Underground helping Tupac happen, or how Busta Rhymes might be an even bigger name than Leaders of the New School. I mean, maybe.
This was dope and this has high replay value. A warning shot. Three Dickies.
YEAH
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