The beauty of music consumption and accessibility in 2018 is refreshing — most of the time. As a music writer and hip-hop leech who scours the internet to find the next “Mo Bamba” or the new Lil rapper, I don’t even have to break a sweat; the combination of streaming services and social media acts as a looking glass into what’s sizzling at the moment or the next thing that is about to pop. Specifically, Soundcloud has infamously adopted the title of being the indie label for your old homie back in high school, who just started rapping to vent, because, why not? The recipe is simple: find Youtube type beats, spit some outlandish bars for traction, and adopt an eerily sinister persona online to draw in the listener. At first glance, that’s what Yokohama 1987, by SoraCD, seems like, but I’m already hooked.
Stalking the rapper’s Instagram while simultaneously scribing this candid review, I found a semblance of Basquiat tags riddled with cryptic captions and grainy photo edits. Before even pressing play on the lengthy, 23-track album, I could sense the off-kilter mind of Sora; I mean, you don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. But Sora had a rocket launcher to my butter knife.
Right off the rip, the intro track, “Central {Keyblade V1},” startled me with the sharp-cutting, arpeggiated synths mixed with Sora’s motor-mouthed bars. He does his best rendition of The Hare & the Tortoise, outpacing the beat when suitable, then easing off the gas to regain air. I noticed the subtle Kingdom Hearts reference he makes with the “Keyblade” title and adopting the main character’s name: Sora. Any rapper who inserts this type of nerdy, game culture into their musical bandwidth, I’m here for. Sora — the rapper from now on, not the anime swordsman — is slowly becoming my favorite rapper of the week. My mental capacity for trap-hop intake is at an all-time high with only one song and a brief glance at socials; so far, so good.
In the album’s bio, Sora notes that he was inspired by “the visuals and sounds of Michael Jackson’s 1987 Japan Tour.” It may be blasphemous to compare the King of Pop to Sora, but my keen eyes and ears can trace the glamour and high-octane energy that is notable in both Jackson’s performance and the vibe of Yokohama 1987. Almost every song is served on a platter with knocking 808’s, mumbled repetition, and an uncanny similarity between the other up-and-coming rappers in this generation. But, with 23 tracks, Sora has little room to fail — all boom, no bust.
It’s projects like these that spark even further inspiration to culture vultures that try to see what the youth are up to, and that’s a hell of a compliment. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery, but I don’t think Sora gives any fucks. On tracks like “jump!!!” and “Eye Contact,” the Seattle rapper sounds like a reincarnated Sid Vicious, belting out the troublesome life of teenagers struggling in the Central District. In contrast, tracks like “Planet Zina (Interlude),” “Lonely,” and “Cold,” display Sora’s versatility. He slows down the BPM and takes a backseat on the train of reflectiveness. Stylistic range? Hmmm, sounds like MJ on September 26, 1987, at the Yokohama Stadium.
As candidly as I try to write, especially about new acts, I take into consideration the circumstantial factors that the artist endured to create art. On the day that Yokohama 1987 was released, Sora took to Instagram, detailing the tumultuous two-year journey of writing and refining to present his “coming of age story” through parables and metaphors. The D i R T-produced track “Rack$ 2 Jack$on” — perhaps my favorite on the album — is quality music. The ambiance of the sugar trap beat coddles Sora. It invites the rapper to spit a casual freestyle, repping his hood and enjoying the finer things in life: good friends and good weed.
SoraCD is interesting, to say the least. His candor is sincere. The prototypical hip-hop song usually has some form of storytelling or observational testimonies, and Sora does both. The sonic value isn’t quite discernible from the curated hip-hop playlists that Soundcloud publishes, but it has character. At your next party, play this riot of a record “rico nasty notice me! *Revamped*,” and you’ll be turning up in a matter of seconds.
Comments