The NYC rapper YL’s music is full of slice-of-life details that capture the feel of aimless youth.
YL’s personal, stream-of-consciousness raps are composed of the small and inconsequential moments that make life in New York City special: eating at the Dominican spot on the corner with the good breakfast, subway rides from Broadway to Bushwick, the little feeling of relief as the NYPD van doesn’t notice the smoke that you just exhaled. Born Again, the NYC rapper’s second collaborative album with the producer Zoomo, feels like you’re aimlessly drifting through the city by his side, seeing what he sees.
It’s easy to tell that YL has spent much of his life absorbing all of the hip-hop the five boroughs have to offer: colorful, post-Illmatic Queens rap like Capone-N-Noreaga, Tragedy Khadafi, and most specifically, Mobb Deep; the superficial swagger perfected by Cam’ron and Dipset in Harlem; the cinematic Wu-Tang classics.
Each song on Born Again feels like a slice of life. You won’t experience YL’s New York through the romanticization on a NYU student’s Instagram feed or the pages of a high-brow newspaper or the episodes of a television series that might as well be a fairytale. Whether he’s “Smoking eighths to The Purple Tape” on “It’s Gonna Hurt,” or reflecting on the “Nike SBs, pre-hypebeast era” on “Mike Bibby,” YL manages to capture the feel of New York, where anything might be possible but most days feel mundane and basic.
There are moments when YL’s songs are too humdrum. Occasionally it’s because his bars are unmemorable, like on “Stop Bag Splitting,” which could use a splash of hyperbole. Other times Zoomo’s production can sound overfamiliar—the beat on “All Change Isn’t Growth” brings to mind the smoky production on Pink Siifu’s ensley, but not as cozy. Fortunately, over the course of the album’s 10 tracks (not including two bonus cuts), the chemistry YL and Zoomo have built since Sunday Holiday, their 2019 album, is apparent. On “Price Tag,” Zoomo’s mellow loop is the good kind of familiar, like a home-cooked meal from your grandparents, and it lays the foundation for YL’s frivolous reflections: the time he was posted up on 125th street in Harlem, or the time his friend pulled up in the cleanest Polo outfit.
For the most part, YL is able to capture the intimacy of the New York hip-hop he grew up on. His imagery is invaluable, on “Youuu” and “Ragatoni,” a pair of cuts assisted by fellow New York rapper Starker, we’re aware of what he’s wearing, smoking, and drinking at all times. And on “Memory Bank,” it’s like you’re shadowing the emcee; there’s always a rough idea of his whereabouts on the New York City map. Listening to these tracks my mind constantly shifts between three reactions: I’ve been there; I’ve done that; I’ve felt that, too. But chances are, even if you grew up outside the city, you’ll still hear a piece of yourself, a moment you recognize. Born Again might be grounded in the five boroughs, but aimless youth is universal.
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