Fresh Goods #12: Moneybagg Yo, Big Flowers, Topaz Jones, and More
A few more weeks down, I have arrived yet again with more fresh goods. It’s quite a bit I want to talk about but before I dive into it, I want to share a conversation about my dad’s review on the new Moneybagg Yo album.
Pops’ Review of A Gangsta’s Pain: My dad does not listen to a ton of new music like that. The lines are a bit blurred but when he does tune into new hip-hop, it’s likely played in his workouts or in his car. Some of his favorite rappers now are Future and Blac Youngsta.
You can frequently find him drifting throughout the house and randomly quote Blac Youngsta, “They ain’t talkin’ money, hang up on em!” Perhaps his favorite of the new generation of artists though is Moneybagg Yo.
When I told him about the new album, his eyes lit up and his ears perked up. “Yeah?”, he says enthusiastically. As a man with fond memories of the No Limit era, he gets excited when he hears that it’s 22 songs. Pops is always of the thinking that the artist has to give people their money’s work. Skimping on the product devalues its worth.
Before I could even dive into the album, he came to my room, “Yo. 14 songs into this Moneybagg Yo album. It’s really good. Did you listen to it yet?” I said I got it in the queue and he quickly responds before he departs for bed, “Bring it to the top of the line.”
I approach my dad the next day while he’s preparing for dinner with a first listen review ready for him. “It was alright, solid stuff. I prefer the last one a little more.” “Alright????? It was GOOD,” he says with a mixed Teremana tequila in his cup. It intrigued me how much analysis he had for an album I didn’t think much about.
Why does he like Moneybagg Yo so much? “He’s real,” my dad replies. My pops grew up in the streets so I always wondered what his definition of real encapsulated. He didn’t have a concrete answer on hand, he was much more focused on finding the various spices and liberally seasoning the BBQ chicken. What he knew for sure was that it’s an instinctual thing only found in people who lived that life. Who fits the mold?
There were two categories of how he separated these artists. 1. Those who were undoubtedly in the streets, or at the very least, put up a very good facade of authenticity. There, he rattled off his list of favorites: Master P, 8Ball, Juvenile, Gucci Mane, Jeezy, Future. 2.
Those who may have been around the streets but weren't really in it. These artists just sound good. An A$AP Rocky came to mind immediately. Jay-Z was someone he named, though I really find a slight regional disconnect as a Southerner and a lack of gritty intensity like in Wu-Tang Clan’s first album was the big difference.
Then, there were those he knew weren’t real. He either appreciates their lyrical prowess or they are of little value. “I could be here all day listing off those people,” my dad says, though he immediately singles out Nas, an artist he’s never liked and claimed was too young to really have paid dues in the streets. Moneybagg Yo fits in the first category and he appreciates his high-quality shit-talking.
“As a responsible, legal gun owner, I appreciate Moneybagg’s accuracy with his shots. He never shoots just to shoot.” I’ve never known a more dedicated Moneybagg Yo fan. My dad concludes with a sly smile, “If anyone has a problem with my HOT takes, they can come see me about it.” https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1146447617/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/transparent=true/?wmode=opaque
Big Flowers- Big Smile: After listening to Big Smile, I had two immediate thoughts: 1. I have to use Bandcamp more often. There’s so many great underground projects released onto a platform distributing artist sales better than iTunes ever could. At its worst, you find a new artist very rough around the edges trying to survive through creative expression. At its best, there’s an artist like Buffalo’s Big Flowers putting out great music.
The second thing that came to mind was how beautiful music could be in the gray. I often think about Vince Guaraldi’s classic soundtrack for A Charlie Brown Christmas. It’s cold and wintry but Guaraldi’s soft piano chords are often soft and delicate. Similarly, Big Flowers’ “often sedated (i’m sorry)” sounds like an overcast winter morning.
Flowers approaches with an inviting embrace, stating “I’m not going out sad though, fuck you thought this was?” There’s bravery and joy to be found in the dry, chilling air. On “livewire (vertebrae),” I found one of the main mission statements of the album, “The bigger the flower, the better the smile. It always has been and always will be a long ride.” I find a lot of comfort in the faded grays in the production on Big Smile. Life itself is a murky existence but Big Flowers argues that we must smile as to not be consumed. We must bloom in spite of it all.
Topaz Jones- Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma: Every artist has that album they chase after their entire careers. They either get it or they don’t. It’s an introduction to a wider audience without sounding amateurish or too niche. Either you belong or you exist in a bubble. Topaz Jones’ Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma transcends any bubble or box you could put him in and obliterates any expectations immediately.
As of this article’s date, it has a very sizable lead with the album of the year. If Kendrick Lamar had Good Kid, Maad City, Freddie Gibbs had Piñata, and Young Thug had Barter 6, Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma is in the same ballpark of breakout projects after years of being good already.
What I appreciate the most about this album is its depiction of family and growing up. Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma sounds like an album with years of self-reflection, thinking back on kids being told to stay out of grown folks’ business, play-fighting with cousins and uncles, watching the older people talk over cards. On the hook of “Herringbone” he notes, “Just a little family dysfunction, we all got it.”
You grow older and think back on the people you grew up around and the factors that made them who they are. Topaz uses the moments and encompasses them with nostalgic warmth. In the same breath, he’s also not oblivious.
On “Mirror” he reveals, “I think I’m finally finding me, my whole life has been hide and seek. I used to suffer in silence, I never showed you that side of me.” The main thesis I’ve gathered from this album after a few listens was: shit is sweet… until it’s not. Topaz Jones packed that idea into one of the grooviest, most ambitious albums of the year.
Cico P- “Tampa”: I can’t even pretend I understand what makes songs blow up on Tik Tok. At the crippling age of 21, I’ve never felt like more of an old man in figuring out why a song works within the format. Even more so, I don’t know how older songs can find a new life within Tik Tok parameters. All I know is the gut instinct when you think something is a hit. Cico P’s “Tampa” is a hit.
Despite coming out in 2019, “Tampa” can go down as perhaps the most hypnotizing song of the year. The beat is very reminiscent of all of my favorite modern Plugg beats, light in touch and dreamy in its imagery. It provides Cico P the groundwork to glide over the beat, dismissing certain women because he has standards and showing how he’s a menace to society in the process. It’s an addictive Southern rap lullaby, I’m glad it arose from Tik Tok.
Huey Briss & Nikobeats- Grace Park Legend: Regionalism has played a pivotal role in how I’ve consumed music ever since I was a kid. I’m of the firm belief that certain songs and albums sound better wherever the artist is from.
You can see the environment that molded them. As a Southerner who moved out West, I’ve been looking for those albums to help appreciate the scolding California sun. Huey Briss and Nikobeats’ Grace Park Legend has been essential in helping me capture the spirit of SoCal. Huey attentively chronicles Long Beach’s history and his own story while lovingly painting California in warm, golden hues.
He’s a realist but he also pays attention to every aspect of the community rather than magnifying only one side of the story. Nikobeats’ production often has a youthful exuberance to it that is both nostalgic but also appreciative of the present. “Last Night (Never Know)” reminds me of family kickbacks and get-togethers. Together, they blend one of my favorite portrayals of California
Thanks for tuning into another batch of Fresh Goods. This week’s Freshest of the Bunch is “Never Knew Love Like This Before” by Stephanie Mills. R&B is the greatest genre to ever exist. Follow me on Twitter @caleb_catlin23 to keep updated on everything I’m working on.