SpaceGhostPurrp: Mysterious Phonk: The Chronicles of SpaceGhostPurrp

SpaceGhostPurrp: Mysterious Phonk: The Chronicles of SpaceGhostPurrp

“Girl I love your face/Yeah you use it well/Suck on my dick, suck on my dick/Fuck two-thousand twelve.” It’s fitting that “Suck A Dick 2012” from this year’s God of Black was chosen for this mixtape-of-a-mixtape, Mysterious Phonk¸ as opposed to its predecessor, “Suck A Dick for 2011” off last year’s Blvcklvnd Rvdix 66.6 (1991). The refrain for that one simply goes “Suck a nigga dick for 2011” over the most abrasively mixed horn sample possible. The peanut butter/chocolate combination of bravado and misogyny is old hat in the rap game, but you get the impression that in the 2012 edition, SpaceGhostPurrp isn’t telling some objectified chickenhead to blow him as much as the world, 2012, and any other circumstance that sticks a 21-year-old black guy in the same Miami suburbs as Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman. As he puts it on "Black God," "Apocalypse, eclipse, but the world too fake/And I guess it's contagious throughout the whole way/I say my mind on the secret master plan." This is the Black God's credo-- be fake with the rest world, but preach your ploy to stay above it.

So be it if that means posing as a god or even an entire posse. Paradoxically, Raider Klan has actually expanded into a collective, but it's more of a lean-stained Watchmen than a G-Unit where Purrp needs to be more than just a black man-- a Black God. No small coincidence if this resonates with the Bay Area’s own Based God. Both Purrp and Lil B are purveyors of a style that was only possible in the fallout of the late '00s hip hop apocalypse that went down sometime between Outkast fading away and Kanye and Jay-Z booking a flight to Paris. The style is epitomized by plain communication thanks to simple flows and rhymes, all the burden left on some smart word choice.

Perhaps its versatility is surprising to someone who associates technical proficiency with good rapping, but SGP keenly switches between power trip fantasies and powerless diary entries. Lil B seems naturally opposite, with his tendencies for motivational rapping and having all the bitches on his dick because he looks like a surgeon, Darth Vader, etc. But as this anthology’s subtitle indicates, these are chronicles-- SGP’s little fictions which put the god with 35 goddesses just a few tracks away from the guy who is “tired of not having any loot/tired of the same clothes/tired of eating this soup.” SpaceGhostPurrp’s persona shifts, just like Lil B’s absurdity, show how so much of this rap game is about crafting characters and singing their tales.

So much of how SpaceGhostPurrp spins these yarns lies in his production. Each chronicle is vividly set in a parallel universe where DJ Screw's fatal sip of syrup induced the end of days. It’s the dissonant arpeggios which make you feel the “Paranoia.” The plodding kick and kalimba give the chants on “Get Yah Head Bust” an ice-cold disaffection. The wind chime cuts the muck on “Suck A Dick 2012” and makes you realize just how grimy this Black God is. This total realization of beats and words recalls the old guard of underground rapper-producers, whether it's El-P with his current-day dystopias or Quasimoto stealing Madlib's face in Los Angeles. Figures like Big K.R.I.T. show us the functionality of self-production, but the singular freaks realize the potential of making something truly #RARE. We’ll be seeing more of this in the years to come, when dudes like SpaceGhostPurrp only need a copy of FruityLoops and Dat Piff or Bandcamp to blast open wormholes to new dimensions. Ride witcha boy, ride witcha boy, ride.

Mysterious Phonk: The Chronicles of SpaceGhostPurrp is out now on 4AD.

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