Hers is a dark outlook, but if we accept twigs as ahead of her time, which of us is fool enough to expect a happy ending? The nonlinear construction produces genre-inversions that still sound breathtaking Give Up is trap by way of the funhouse mirror, while the instrumentation of Pendulum interlocks enough elements to remain unclassifiable entirely.Īt the album’s bleeding, breaking heart, twigs offers a futurist document of intimacy, eschewing neither the highs of carnal pleasure nor the devastating lows of emotional isolation. The arrangements here are skeletal and layered with surgical precision, like the meandering bassline which spins itself into a melodic cyclone on the magnificently paced Two Weeks. She didn’t really have anything to prove with the release of an album proper, but if she did, LP1 damn well proves it a lifetime over, ad infinitum.Īcross nine tracks (and one polyphonic hallucination of an intro), twigs charts a bold new sonic terrain for R&B, influencing an ensuing half-decade of imitators who failed to live up to this record’s sheer audacity. She was way ahead of us.įKA twigs emerged fully-formed her pair of debut EPs presented an artist with a singular vision, raw talent and a sound that was as inviting as it was hard to define. Del Rey, clearly, caught us all off guard: we thought we had her figured out. The surety of her art was so great, in fact, that she landed a blow on critics who’d previously waxed misogynistic, on Fucked My Way to the Top.
The atmosphere of bracing desolation is embellished by little more than ringing guitars and orchestral flourishes, allowing lines like “ mimicking me’s a fucking bore” maximum impact. Now we were introduced to the interior world of Lana Del Rey, an antiheroine who luxuriated in toxic relationships. Yes, she’d hinted at what was to come with Born to Die but, audacious as it was, her debut did little more than set the scene and determine the blocking. Ever since Video Games, critics had railed against her perceived inauthenticity – but rather than engaging, she doubled down on her vision: a heightened reality gilded in sadness that transcended the critical stonewalling. Ultraviolence marks a moment of becoming for Lana Del Rey. A glowing career high for modern rap’s most enigmatic innovator.
Tha Tour Part 1 transcended that climate completely. The story of Young Thug and the distribution of rap music in this decade is one hallmarked by impermanence – albums which never materialised, landmark projects leaking and artists locked in deals with labels incapable of keeping up with their output. Spacious, piano-heavy beats from London on da Track give the tape a glimmery sheen that spans the best in both A-list hip-hop and classic R&B. Thug’s splattery flow is counterpointed by Quan’s more traditional, sculpted delivery while Birdman’s overlord presence brings a level of prestige that places the record in the rap pantheon. In fact, the mixtape was such a musically refined piece of work that the discussion around whether or not Thug and Rich Homie Quan’s elastic, melodious style qualified as rap suddenly felt all the more arbitrary. Unveiled during the peak of Young Thug’s prolific run of mixtapes, Tha Tour Part 1 provided a refreshing demonstration in streamlining and direction. Tha Tour Pt.1 Rich Gang Cash Money Records