Roddy Ricch recently invoked controversy among some older rap listeners when he cited Future and Young Thug, rather than the revered rappers of the ‘90s, as the primary influences on his style. “I was born in ’98. I was born after Tupac and Biggie died,” he reminded Complex in a recent interview. “What do you expect me to rap like? Who do you expect me to look up to?”
Roddy isn’t the only rapper following this new template. With his domination of the Billboard charts at the head of this new decade, the Compton, California rapper has established himself as yet another superstar in a line of young artists from all over the map — NBA Youngboy in Louisiana, Polo G in Chicago, Lil Tjay in New York — offering a certain kind of sound and aesthetic that’s become wildly popular since the latter half of the 2010s. Their introspective street anthems are each coated in their own local brand of catchy, freestyled melodies; they write infectious, chart-topping songs about their own pain, success and loss.
It’s a synthesis of elements like the wild melodic experiments of Young Thug, the emotional brawn of Future, and the street-pop crossovers of Kevin Gates. But it’s also exactly what an up-and-coming rapper like Roddy is expected to do in this day and age. And right now, he’s leading the pack — album cut “The Box”, currently #1 on the Hot 100 as of writing, sees Roddy rattle off a dozen different flows, each one sticky enough to be its own hook, over an inventive “ee-er” vocal loop that’s taken on a life of its own as a TikTok meme. Even as his reaching melodies and word choices recall his inspirations (note Young Thug’s coined “wipe his nose” and “slatt” in one phrase), they feel fresh, original and effortless. Much of that fully-formed package can be credited to Roddy’s crystal-clear voice, which swaps the drugged-out drawls of his contemporaries for sharper inflections that are always satisfying to listen to, regardless of what lanes they’re exploring.
A full-length release like Please Excuse Me For Being Antisocial, however, is a bigger test of artistry. The album contains other songwriting gems: the Meek Mill-assisted “Peta”, a carefree, back-and-forth banger over an erratic flute sample, offers more of the loose, confident energy that keeps Roddy from feeling generic. But it’s hard to listen to the many songs on its tracklist that rehash the same spacey guitar instrumentals and melodramatic freestyling (“Boom Boom Room”, “Prayers to the Trap God”) and not feel like he’s treading water. Roddy’s last project, 2018’s Feed the Streets II, worked with a much lower budget, but, in retrospect, sounds much less bland than this project’s lows do; it’s a raw, hungry mixtape, so highlights like “Down Below” and “Every Season” are fueled by memorable vocal performances that often seem lacking on this latest project.
At its best, the new, versatile lane that Roddy champions can tap into both the catchy passion of the best pop music and the relatable striving of the best rap music without diluting the spirit of either style. “Ballin”, featured on Mustard’s Perfect Ten earlier in 2019, is Exhibit A for this sound. It’s one of the best singles of the year, a Grammy-nominated rags-to-riches anthem in the tradition of “Lifestyle”, one where Mustard’s signature West Coast bounce lets you feel the exuberance in every note Roddy croons. Please Excuse Me’s “High Fashion” brings Mustard back to replicate that formula for a heartfelt love song that checks all the same boxes — the rapper and producer seem to bring a lot out of each other, and a full-length collab between them might make ideal use of Roddy’s talents. Standout moments on the album, like the keening, pointed melodies of “Roll Dice”, are common enough to make the full project worth a listen.
It’s “War Baby”, though, that feels like the biggest statement for an album and rapper that occasionally fails to make an impact. It begins as a standard Roddy piano ballad, detailing how he “survived in the trenches” of his native Compton. But as he finds an ascending note on the word “mannequin”, it transforms into something much more uplifting and powerful; he seems to actually embody the traumas he’s trying to cast off, instead of just performing them. Soon, a gospel choir joins Roddy’s fervent chorus, turning his gunfire-imitating “la-da-da-da-da” into a religious chant and making his hopeless admission of “hope I don’t wake up tomorrow” feel even more poignant. Rare moments like these prove Roddy’s potential as a rapper, songwriter, and especially a voice who’s refreshing in the current rap landscape.
Be sure to check out OUR GALLERY of Roddy Ricch’s sold out show in Houston, Texas!
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Its refreshing to see a artist I like in Roddy Rich to look up to young thug and future, two artists i’ve never come to like. Maybe it’s because he has a much more humble attitude and carries himself with grace. Go Roddy.