Lots of rappers call themselves students of the game, but not all of them actually like to study. I get it—if you’re wary of overworking a verse or belaboring a reference, the mercurial energy of a marathon studio session or a hanging-mic freestyle is probably a safer bet. Not for ZayALLCAPS. The multi-dimensional California musician’s best trick is blurring the line between play and professionalism, rawness and rigor. “The medium itself is the artform,” he raps on his new LP, My Uncle Told Me Some Real Ass Sh*t on the Phone Yesterday. “It’s habits I formed.”
Zay’s fourth album in as many years marries the spirit of a hustler and the swagger of a college kid. Its tone-poem structure and train-of-thought lyrics maintain the breeze of Zay’s last few tapes, but there’s levels to this shit. Like sedimentary rock, My Uncle Told Me Some Real Ass Sh*t… charts both the layers of Zay’s eclectic taste profile—neo-soul, rare groove, reggae, Gucci-era trap, and indietronica, among plenty other vinyl-bin labels—and the process of manifesting his bespoke style. It’s a fine-tuned package with “no bad ideas in a brainstorm” bravado. Point blank: It does not sound like anything else in rap right now.
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By applying a jammy, near-Baduist flow to the sequencing, Zay can cogently dissect 10 ideas in one three-minute song without sounding crowded or, worse, pretentious. Take “Digital Jungle,” a co-write with his regular collaborator conworld, which opens like a lost Flying Lotus iPhone ringtone and closes with a break best described as “Soulsville does ’70s Brazilian jazz.” Or “infinity pools,” which retrofits a Death Grips drum break with a coloratura synth patch ripped straight from the Mii Houses. The mise-en-scene matches Zay’s conflicted internal monologue, christening himself both a “demigod” and an “idiot” in the span of a four-count before the beat collapses into a maelstrom of 808s and stacked harmonies. Never has he sounded so intent on showing his work, smudge marks and all.
The primordial ooze here remains a blend of pluggnB and West Coast rap experimentalism a la Odd Future, the same sauce that linked 2023’s Balling Out of Spite with last year’s level-up art Pop*Pop Art. But Zay’s appetite is far too hearty to settle for siloed genre worship or nostalgia bait. When the palette gets extra N.E.R.D.-y on “B3lieve Dat,” he swerves to channel Little Dragon; when the spirit of Brent Faiyaz starts to compel him on the butter-smooth “Swoop,” he shakes it off with some tidy Atlanta bass on “Signz.” The second he starts crooning like he’s smoking good rolling solo on “Changez,” he blots out the blueprint with some 808s-era Kanye vocal modulation. Think “Bestie Tokyo” is gonna play out like “Street Lights” based on the opening salvo? Wait until he hits the “That’s My Best Friend” sample.
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