User:ModernDayTrilobite/Individual songs on Maps

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To facilitate my planned expansion of Maps (Billy Woods and Kenny Segal album).

TO DO: add FT if we can ever get around its paywall

General ideas or other things to return to[edit]

  • "Kenwood Speakers" and "Babylon by Bus" are about "existence in corporate America and traveling through soon-to-be-gentrified areas."[1]
  • returning themes include "society’s classification of food as cultural class signifier"; "Almost every song includes a different type of dish, cross-referencing the aura of the places wherever the journey led"[2]
  • "Weed is a constant companion, filling airport toilets and Marriott hotel bathrooms, the papaya or herbal smell of its dissipating smoke a great metaphysical symbol for woods’ transitory presence in those spots."[2]
  • "the sunny, Californian jazz-beats Segal conjures"[2]
  • "white culture permeating blackness, transforming it, reflecting itself, leading to a dynamic of self-annihilation."[2]
  • "the returning image of him as an airplane passenger"[2]
  • bird imagery recurs throughout "Babylon by Bus", "The Layover", and "As the Crow Flies"[2]
  • "Compared to the claustrophobic, lumbering dread of their previous record, 2019’s stress-rap masterpiece Hiding Places, Maps is much lighter on its feet."[3]
  • "His sardonic deadpan is so effective that even simple bars like “You can’t fix stupid” and “The earth is a sphere” become gut-busters."[4]
  • "crappy and/or overpriced weed, a nuisance woods brings up with charming frequency"[4]
  • "The album starts in New York with “Kenwood Speakers,” and we end up back there with “NYC Tapwater” and the epilogue, “As the Crow Flies.”" (direct quote from Woods)[5]
  • "Some of that calm is induced by woods' reliable travel companion: marijuana. He's at the Courtyard by Marriott bathroom, blowing it through the vents, or rolling a backwood in Amsterdam killing time. Most rappers will tell you that weed is crucial to any voyage, but woods goes further, treating it as a gateway to a space somewhere beyond the unfamiliar, or a self-sustaining comfort zone in any city. He raps about it like a little embassy of his own making."[6]
  • "Food plays a key role in the ways that the rapper experiences and remembers the character of a place. It features heavily, in detail."[6]
  • "colorful air-safety instructions artwork"[7]

New reviews[edit]

  • Consequence[8]
    • "True to its title, Maps is a concept album documenting life on the road"
  • Exclaim[9]
    • "woods tells stories of the road from his unique perspective, packing his unexpected turns of phrase with delectable culinary descriptions"
    • "Segal evokes the transient experience of life on the road with collage-like beats that shift from satisfying boom bap to arty abstractions and back again"
  • NPR[6]
    • "a master class from one of the genre's best writers"
    • "billy woods [...] offers the collected wisdom of two decades worth of journeys."
    • "Maps, wrings insights out of transitory moments. Not just the idle time spent between one place and another, though that is accounted for; it is also the itinerant lessons learned touring, the wayfaring around a foreign place seeking something, the things the road reveals about home and the things you discover about yourself in unfamiliar territory. For woods, every fleeting experience, every in-between place, has something to offer."
    • "Maps is his clearest, most engaging music. The bars are more pointed. The beats are more stimulating."
    • "a dynamic, audience-forward follow-up to an ambitious concept record that maintains the established level of technical excellence."
    • "Segal, who has helped woods obfuscate in the past, helps him process here with production that snaps and hums, and is less muted and grayscale. There haven't been many easy entry points into the woods catalog, but if ever there was a place to start paying attention, it's here, catching him en route to a more hospitable place."
    • "His rhymes on Maps bear the frankness of a weary pilgrim."
    • "the text is always dense and super referential, riffing on high lit, pop culture and political science"
    • "woods deploys a worldly, wily lyricism that is both erudite and streetwise. Few rappers have more to say. His verses overflow into the margins, setting scenes in asides."
    • "this is a full-on master class, even for one of rap's greatest-ever penmen."
    • "The songs on Maps [...] feel plainspoken without sacrificing the craftiness or the mystery at the core of the woods sound. That isn't to say this is any closer to pop's center — he has no interest in that sort of thing — but this is about as transparent as a rapper who hides his face can get. There is clearly a difference between personal and sociable, and his storytelling is not simply for sharing, it's for enlightening. For all of woods' epic pedagogy, the zingers are nearly endless."
    • "In their own way, these songs have the feel of great hole-in-the-wall spots — off the beaten path but life-affirming, a refuge from gentrifiers."
    • "While many of the songs on Maps carry the dystopian buzz of Cold Vein era El-P beats, there is also more color and pulse to this record than the rapper's other recent releases. Several songs are jazzy."
  • Treble[7]
    • "an alternately affecting, funny and introspective road-movie sequence"
    • "It’s an odyssey depicted through the bleary eyes of a touring artist, Bratislava to Utrecht, dispatches from Szechuan restaurants and greasy spoons, backstage debauchery and economy class seats. Yet even when placed in the framework of an epic saga, we mostly catch woods as a grounded observer in moments that elicit bewilderment and passing amusement alike."
    • "at turns annoyed and enchanted, lost in the moment or temporarily out of body"
    • "Segal’s production on Maps is less sickly and dreary than Hiding Places, yet still tense and disorienting, the blur of the road captured in vivid, psychedelic hues"
    • "woods finds a profound, subtle poetry in the sights, sounds and feelings of being anywhere else."

Non-Maps-related but still worth saving[edit]

  • "My sound can be quite bleak, sure, but there’s always these bright interruptions; I like to operate in those juxtapositions. I guess sometimes when people meet me, they are surprised that this pretty personal rapper is actually funny. But I never made a record, even the darkest album, where it wasn’t funny in some way. I am a big fan of dark comedy. Maybe that’s due to growing up around so much British humour [on television]. I like moments of darkness hidden inside of levity. That’s an interesting space."[10]

Songs[edit]

1. Kenwood Speakers[edit]

  • "“Kenwood Speakers” chronicles Brooklyn slowly selling out. woods observes he can afford more exceptional real estate thanks to his artistic longevity with bitter utilitarianism"[2]
  • "Later, during dinner with his new Brooklyn neighbour, filled with suggestions of hip and decadent white status symbols (“Skate wing, brown butter and capers / Sprigs of thyme / Heavy pours of natural wine”), woods supposedly provokes the man into ruminating on class and racial division [...] The next morning, he’s found dead of suicide by carbon monoxide."[2]
  • "he cracks wise on “Kenwood Speakers” about boring a dinner party to death"[11]
  • "“Kenwood Speakers” opens Maps with the sounds of vibrating subwoofers and snapping drums. It’s a record that calls back to the golden age of hip-hop, where emcees contested for the iron mic."[12]
  • "For him, the song evokes a strong sense of place. “That song, for me, is when I’m walking at night through the street, going to Bed-Stuy and Crown Heights and back,” he adds."[12]
  • "the antagonistic dinner party with the neighbors in brief, boisterous opener “Kenwood Speakers”"[7]
  • "distorted snap of beats"[7]

2. Soft Landing[edit]

  • "“Soft Landing” opens with sun-drenched guitar chords and field recordings of a public space."[2]
  • "interpolates the pop standard “Feeling Good.”"[4]
  • "blending sludgy bass booms with acoustic guitar while woods chants a chorus inspired by Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good.”"[11]
  • "Segal's guitar-driven beat provides a calming atmosphere for woods' sonic streams of consciousness that analyzes the occasional mundanity of everyday life [...] while also acknowledging its true hardships"[13]
  • the music video, "which features woods and Segal traveling through a bar and city streets, was co-directed by actor and playwright Tim Blake Nelson and his son Henry Nelson."[14]
  • "“Soft Landing,” wherein anxious, invasive stream-of-consciousness thoughts give way to a rare moment of peace"[7]

3. Soundcheck[edit]

  • "Gil Scott Heron-like"; "address[es] anxiety and stage pressure"[1]
  • "“Soundcheck” describes his need to escape the tedium of its titular activity, opting instead to find the nearest Szechuan restaurant."[3]
  • "“I will not be at soundcheck,” he repeats with defiance on the puckish “Soundcheck” as he absconds to chow on some Szechuan food."[4]
  • "about woods refusing to spend his touring time loading in at venues"[15]
  • "It’s on "Soundcheck" that Woods comes closest to harmony: resisting his role as the star of the show while finding joy in new spaces."[16]
  • "He seizes opportunities for escape from set-time schedules on the cinematic, dreamlike “Soundcheck,” shrugging that he “might check in to keep ’em honest” but places a higher priority on watching the sunset from a park bench."[7]

4. Rapper Weed[edit]

  • "I was in L.A., and we did a couple songs. One of them was “Rapper Weed.”"[5]
  • ""Rapper Weed" feels like the chronicle of the dispensary ecosystem and the characters that navigate it."[6]
  • "boom-bap piano haze"[7]

5. Blue Smoke[edit]

  • "The constant back and forth between black working class rusticity and contemporary white folly collides in occasional power-struggles, such as in “Blue Smoke”, where woods imagines possible FBI agents that listen in on his divorce quarrels self-censoring their racist speech (“Been on this n-word for months, I think it’s all just rhymes”)."[2]
  • "free-jazz freakouts"[4]
  • "jazzy"[9]
  • "a more avant garde spin on jazz rap, with its frantic walking bassline underlining woods’ lamentations about cool heads not prevailing"[7]

6. Bad Dreams are Only Dreams[edit]

  • "in “Bad Dreams Are Only Dreams” (the title is one of the many easter-egg references to 90s Hip-Hop, in this case GZA’s “Cold World”), woods dozes off on an Emirates flight and finds himself the exposed-brain-dish in a Hannibal Lecter-like nightmare that doubles as a parody of critical analysis"[2]
  • "He fights jet lag on “Bad Dreams Are Only Dreams”"[3]
  • "dreary loops"[4]

7. Babylon by Bus[edit]

  • samples "#2" by Aphex Twin[2]
  • "woods imagines himself as an ominous stalker"[2]
  • "jackknife beat switches"[4]
  • in the music video, "woods and his Backwoodz Studioz colleagues take a late-night bus ride." This one too is directed by Tim Blake Nelson and Henry Nelson.[17]
  • "gorgeously sampling Aphex Twin on "Babylon by Bus""[9]
  • "Woozy ambiance permeates the first minute of “Babylon by Bus” before a cinematic break scores a standout guest rap from fellow Backwoodz emcees Shrapknel"[7]

8. Year Zero[edit]

  • "Danny Brown provides a lengthy, exuberant guest verse during the warped, noisy "Year Zero," bursting in fits of laughter by the end."[1]
  • "the Danny Brown collaboration “Year Zero” (a possible Nine Inch Nails reference?), where both rappers imagine a wasteland of black self-destruction and human devolution"[2]
  • "At times, like on “Year Zero,” these instances of reflection make him want to burn everything down and let the youth figure out a better way to exist."[3]
  • "towering drones of "Year Zero""[3]
  • "Others, like “Year Zero,” which features a stunning Danny Brown verse, are spartan voids of creaky percussion and eerie synths that play up woods’ wry prophesizing."[4]
  • "Danny Brown talks glorious shit on “Year Zero.”"[11]
  • "woods delivers one of his darkest bursts of despair [...] then Danny Brown comes screeching in [...] and reality suddenly shifts."[15]
  • "Danny Brown is manic and boastful on "Year Zero"."[16]
  • "the most compelling addition comes from Detroit rapper Danny Brown, who delivers a brain-smashing verse on “Year Zero.” “I reached out to Danny, and was like, ‘How about we do this thing?'” Woods recalls. “When he showed up, it was memorable. Danny came through with two cars, two separate cars, arriving at different times, with different people in them, because they had all come from somewhere else, already hanging out, all night. He had the rhyme on two separate phones. He continued rhyming. I mean, it just went on. It was crazy. It’s longer than even what’s on there, I think.”"[12]
  • "On the brain-melting “Year Zero” (also featuring a pretty perfect guest verse from Danny Brown), woods weighs up how his taxes potentially pay off police brutality settlements"[10]
  • "Danny Brown gives an unhinged verse for the ages on "Year Zero","[9]
  • "dystopian synths wallpaper the ominous this-world-is-ruined warning of “Year Zero” [...] with a dynamite verse from Danny Brown"[7]

9. Hangman[edit]

  • "black pessimism also seeps out of the morbid “Hangman”"[2]
  • "finding bemused comfort in conversations with idiots."[4]
  • "A song like ‘Hangman’ is essentially perfect: so taught and focused it sounds like a man hunched over, mouth open, pouring every one of his pressing thoughts onto the mic."[16]

10. Baby Steps[edit]

  • "He falls asleep in the backseat of an Uber from Kansas City to Lincoln, Nebraska on “Baby Steps”"[3]
  • "muted orchestral tension"[3]
  • "He references Future on “Baby Steps,” comparing himself to the Atlanta rapper’s I Never Liked You album art as he dozes off in an Uber."[11]
  • "On “Baby Steps,” woods raps about taking a $300 cab ride. “I had a tour where the booking agent had set up something between two places, without really considering that the options for getting there were bad,” he says. “My booking agent’s suggestion was that I would call an uber from one place to the other. And I’m very skeptical, but I’m calling a uber from Kansas City, Missouri, to Omaha, Nebraska, or something. It does seem a little insane, but he’s like, ‘Oh, I mapped it out, it’s $320.’”"[12]

11. The Layover[edit]

  • "unfurls the hissy, buttery flow of sampled bop piano."[11]
  • "In each verse on "The Layover," he threads a single rhyme scheme with each line building upon the last. [...] The wordplay there is as intense as it is amusing. There is, of course, the analogue at its center, drawing a parallel from the voyeurism surrounding police brutality to snooty bystanders during the Black Plague — the tension in such juxtapositions of modern and medieval, the entendre within (Black Death), the imagery at play and the irony of history repeating itself. In a verse that likely ends alluding to a Sanskrit fable, it is the perfect balance of knowable and arcane; just one of many that opens before the listener."[6]

12. FaceTime[edit]

  • "Samuel T. Herring sings about the strange comfort of tour loneliness for the misty chorus to "Facetime.""[1]
  • "his faltering relationship, which he addresses without varnish in “FaceTime”."[2]
  • Woods "smokes weed in a hotel room during “Facetime,” listening to festival goers chase oblivion after a Playboi Carti set."[3]
  • "wistful"[4]
  • "Samuel T. Herring of Future Islands delivers a nice chorus on “Facetime” as woods describes navigating missed calls and his own smoked-out alienation"[11]
  • "woods and Future Islands’ Samuel T. Herring trade observations on what it’s like to be away from loved ones, doing something supposedly fun. It’s a situation that woods illustrates by sketching an image of carefree young revelers buzzing off of dubstep and Playboi Carti while woods himself is in a hotel room, “smoking alone in a cardigan, thinking of home.”"[15]
  • "lead single "FaceTime", a song which finds solace in solitude."[16]
  • "Over Segal’s wistful, horn-based production, woods describes his life on the road in vivid detail."[18]
  • "Herring provides the chorus on the track, singing about the loneliness of touring"[18]
  • "Herring discussed his contribution to “FaceTime” in a press statement: “It was late summer 2022 and most days I was stuck in my hotel room wondering what was happening with my life,” the singer said. “All of that being on the road and living remotely, feeling alienated, alone, missing people back home, but also feeling at home living that way—I understood it deeply…. That song is my life and I was living in it.”"[19]
  • "a boom-bap beat from Segal that features analog drums, a prominent bass line, bursts of chiming synth keyboard, and a silky saxophone"[20]
  • "Herring’s sung chorus imitates the sax’s smoky tone, though it sticks to a relatively narrow vocal range."[20]
  • "the new project’s post-boom bap beats (particularly “Facetime”) glisten with a sad sort of elegance"[10]
  • "I was expanding upon the idea of maintaining relationships at a distance. Your daily life when you are out on the road and touring is confusing. You look at home as real life, but is it your real life if you ain’t back there? Sometimes there’s bad things at home you ain’t dealing with, all because you are touring. Sometimes being away touring is horribly isolating and lonely. You feel like you are missing out on [family] life, but other times it is a rush and a getaway from things you can’t deal with. That song definitely explores this duality."[10]
  • "The single, "FaceTime," isn't [sonically] far off from something for Griselda."[6]
  • "woods is a bystander in a luxurious afterparty bacchanal on “FaceTime,” distracted by the thought of where he isn’t, but still lucid enough to capture the excess in detail"[7]

13. Agriculture[edit]

  • "rural fantasy of weed-dealer-cum-farmer"Cite error: The <ref> tag has too many names (see the help page).
  • "On the dreamy “Agriculture,” which is splashed with warm hums and twinkly keys, a pastoral refuge fails to cure the protagonist’s anguish"[4]

14. Houdini[edit]

  • "Smoking helps woods get through it all; as he repeats on "Houdini," "I was high all day, I escaped.""[1]
  • "bluesy"[4]
  • "On "Houdini," weed is the cushion on his day off, ushering him through a sensory experience that conjures perceptive imagery [...] and folkloric visions[.] It invites strangeness and respite, fosters curiosity and appetite."[6]

15. Waiting Around[edit]

  • Woods "wanders around Amsterdam with headphones on “Waiting Around.”"[3]
  • "we get the pleasure of hearing Woods trade bars with the equally verbose Aesop Rock"[16]

16. NYC Tapwater[edit]

  • "woods observes celebrities moving in next door (suggesting the place of his deceased neighbour found ample interest) and luxury goods being traded, which the rapper takes with resigned sarcasm"[2]
  • "The death of New York as cultural habitat directly contrasts the sprawling, almost alchemical processes of the diary-like observations on the rest of the record."[2]
  • "domestic bliss of the beautiful “NYC tapwater”"[2]
  • "The New York he re-inhabits on “NYC Tapwater” is always different, the march of time slowly chipping away at his idea of home."[3]
  • "“NYC Tapwater” tenderly catalogs the unique pleasures of life in New York City then ends by clarifying it’s a cruel place. It’s not a twist; it’s a warning from someone who has settled into the mirage."[4]
  • "And when woods is back home in New York, the city’s not the same. His old weed spot is now an expensive designer boutique, and he’s got to start plotting his exit"[15]
  • "“NYC Tapwater” is a snapshot of touring artists’ constant adjusting of their mental and geographical velocities, a yarn about reacclimating to New York’s ceaseless rhythm where woods wrings warm, wry observations on the changing city from a quiet day off"[5]
  • "actually home in “NYC Tapwater,” he’s happy to find tranquility and a purring cat in his lap, but paradoxically admits, “I miss this place ’til I’m back.”"[7]

17. As the Crow Flies[edit]

  • "As woods returns home and settles in, he finds himself observing his son playground fighting on “As the Crow Flies” [...] Here, in those final lines, he has all the themes of Maps fall in on each other: the romantic tension dissipates, as his own fear on death, embodied by the suicide that opens the album, finally becomes palpable"[2]
  • "billy woods paints a picture of himself at a park with his son, experiencing the worst kind of epiphany: “I watch him grow, wondering how long I got to live.”"[15]
  • "the more serene vibe of “As The Crow Flies” inspires the poignant reflections of a dad noticing the physical infallibility of his infant son while pushing him on the kiddy swing."[10]
  • "The album winds down to a short, harrowing, beautiful final verse from woods to close "As the Crow Flies." After a more meditative opening verse from his Armand Hammer partner Elucid, woods takes a minute to home in on a single instant on the playground with his son. As he's pushing the child on the swing, he has a string of epiphanies[.] At eight lines, delivered in 20 seconds, the verse itself seems to mirror the 'blink and you'll miss it' nature of parenting, but everything about it is so in its right place that there's no doubt this is more about embracing joy, not resignation — about the power in even the most ephemeral moments. It is his simplest verse but also his gentlest and most moving. In it, the roads not taken pale in comparison to finding a home."[6]

Notes[edit]