Surfing between piano-driven minimalism and hazy synth experiments, the Maryland rapper’s latest mixtape seeks the next evolution of DMV rap.
For more than half a decade, the DMV’s street rap scene has been dominated by ominous piano melodies and skittish triplet flows. The most exciting rappers of this generation have embraced this framework while finding subtle ways to push the style forward. Think Q Da Fool, who with his 2017 mixtape Rich Shoota Vol. 2 showed that the rapid, punchline-stuffed delivery—pioneered by himself, Big Flock, and Shabazz PBG—could be stretched melodically. Or Lil Dude and Goonew, who rewired that same flow with a hushed edge on 2018’s Homicide Boyz. Or Xanman and YungManny, who branched out with a singles run that flaunted their twisted sense of humor.
Prince George’s County, Maryland’s Tae Dawg is less heralded, but has been playing with ways to open up the regional sound for some years now. With his newest mixtape, Sorry 4 Da Ooze, he lets his impulses cook. He’s just as likely to rap in a shout as a whisper, to cram as many words as possible into a punchline, or dig in his R&B bag. Outside influences mingle with homegrown ones. His ear for beats is all over the place, surfing between instrumentals that pull from more traditional piano-driven minimalism in the lane of local beatmaker Cheecho as well as those that owe more to the hazy synth experiments of DMV producers Sparkheem and Spizzledoe.
His process seems to be to just throw everything at the wall, which in the past has made for mixtapes that were as patchy as they were fascinating. Sorry 4 Da Ooze (the word “ooze” is his thing because he thinks the villain in the 1995 Power Rangers movie is cool) is not an exception, but this time the misfires are dampened by the interesting crevices Tae Dawg finds to work within. It’s rare for a track on the mixtape to be one-note—flow switch-ups happen so fast that you don’t even have the chance to be overwhelmed. On “Thirsty,” Tae Dawg quickly shifts between melodic murmurs and hearty wails. He’s not exactly a good singer, but in bursts he can make you think he is. There’s no leash on “Oozin Rambo,” as he skips from a lightning-quick barrage of violent punch-ins to a middle section where it sounds as if he’s a contestant on Silent Library, trying to scream without making too much noise.
What is predictable about Sorry 4 Da Ooze are the lyrics. Tae Dawg’s punchlines don’t have any punch to them—good thing he’s a captivating vocalist. Gun-toting threats and drug talk are fairly standard in street rap, but his are so blank and anonymous that you generally don’t notice them. When you do it’s probably for a bad reason, like his boring chant of “I fucked a bitch, I don’t like her” on “Go TF Off,” a couple of seconds that feel endless. The straightforward R&B ballad “Hallows & Caskets” puts too much focus on vague memories, missing any hint of DMV flavor.
Generally that’s not the case. Even when Sorry 4 Da Ooze strays from DMV production, Tae Dawg doesn’t let regionality escape him. A handful of trend-hopping ventures turn out surprisingly well: His racing flow elevates the played-out rage synths of “Blasting Off” and he sounds almost as comfortable as Shawny Binladen over the pulsating drill beat of “Ooze Drill.” Still, the mixtape is most effective when Tae Dawg fine-tunes the DMV sound in his mold, firing off feathery pews instead of aggressive gunshot ad-libs on “Get Out Ya Feelings” or breaking up the ordinary triplet flow chest-puffing of “Knuck If You Bucc” with a few lines that feel like they’re being rapped through a school PA system. Listening to Tae Dawg advance the sound of his region inch by inch is a reminder of what’s so fulfilling about following DMV rap.
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