Unknown Memory
by Yung Lean
Distributed by Sad Boys Entertainment
Yung Lean is not one of the best rappers out there, but he is certainly one of the most important of the Internet age. It is easy to separate him from the rap world, call him “post-internet” or even the most murky of genre tags, “electronic,” but don’t be misled, he is a rapper.
Yung Lean has a tendency to be detracted not by those who critique his sound, but rather by critics who are too attached to the idea of rap being a game of insiders and outsiders, one that on the inside currently is fuelled by party anthems and early-2000s gazing fart-synth rap (blame DJ Mustard).
The forever-a-teenager Swede represents rap that is accessible both as something to be consumed and created on a global level. In the same way Odd Future caused a rift in what we consider a serious rapper in 2012, he plays with irony and sincerity in a way that’s hard to ignore. Also, he sounds pretty good while doing it.
Definitely on the outside of the typical hip-hop scene, Yung Lean’s sound is constructed around new-age influenced soundscapes and the (incredibly monotone) form of delivery that he has further improved on Unknown Memory. Yung Lean is almost mumbling on each track, which adds to his tuned-out/burnt-out aesthetic.
The most pronounced improvement on Unknown Memory is the quality of the beats. Where some of Yung Lean’s previous beats sounded like ironic cutouts of garage band demos, the material on his latest album is much more detailed, and more importantly carves out a unique sound for the rapper. Producers Yung Gud, Yung Sherman, and Whitearmor take clear influence from producers such as Clams Casino and Young L, washing screwed vocals and trap drums with lavish synths and layers of reverb.
If there is a significant problem I have with Yung Lean, it’s the lyrics. The stir-fry of tumblr-ready catchphrases (all this ice leave me blinded/five-star life stay reminded) and interesting but non-sequitur references (bitch I’m cruising down the black lodge with my black watch on) runs dry if you listen for more than a few songs.
The lyrics are more depressive and inward-gazing, but in no interesting way a la Rich Homie Quan. This is disappointing, as the lyrics on previous effort Unknown Death 2002 were particularly clever and described a more intricate and playful culture that Yung Lean and co. were a part of.
In spite of the weaker lyrics, Unknown Memory holds up as a strong release due to the instrumentals and delivery, which realize the sonic palette that Yung Lean seemed to be reaching for on previous tapes. If Lean is clever, he’ll keep allowing his sound to evolve and refuse to look to his contemporaries for influence.
