Danny Brown
uknowhatimsayin¿

"This is my version of a stand-up comedy album. Most of my closest friends are not rappers, but comedians and actors. So I wanted to create something that blended humor and music. Something that was fun but not a parody."

Danny Brown is a rapper who could have only had a career in the 2010s.

I open the review with this provocation not to undermine the dignity of a multifaceted and bizarre artist, but to acknowledge how the genre has often changed its face, eventually making room for the delirious rants of this absurd and demonic elf, with one of the most chaotic and captivating discographies ever conceived.

First of all, let's bring some order: our artist is the toxic product of the suburban and deviant atmosphere of Detroit. Nasal voice, reminiscent of B-Real, the historical frontman of Cypress Hill, fluid and sinuous flow, eccentric and crazy verve. It doesn't take much to capture the attention of the top executives, who, however, can't seem to find a suitable role for him in the mainstream market.

"You're good, you rock, but, damn, you wear those tight jeans and that's not in fashion. We dress loose. How are you supposed to represent us?" he would hear from G-Unit, the pop group emblematic of that period.

Fortunately, the secondary circuits were willing to welcome this funny gremlin with open arms, and he began to produce high-quality albums and mixtapes. A path that led him into the good graces of the monumental Warp Record, where he would publish his best works: "Atrocity Exhibition" and "uknowhatimsayin¿"; and it is precisely on the latter I would like to spend a few words.

Produced under the supervision of Q-Tip (formerly of A Tribe Called Quest), the album likely represents the most rigorous episode of Danny's career: less edgy and experimental than the aforementioned predecessor that had definitively consecrated him, "uknowhatimsayin¿" is an unjustly maligned product, mistakenly considered as a transitional project.

Let's be clear, the intent is not to explore uncharted territories as happened with the previous ones, but to publish an amusing divertissement, without however giving up a certain eclecticism.

What appears on the surface to be a simple album tied to tradition is actually a sonic excursus aimed at reworking more classic sounds, giving them a refresh and adapting them to the contemporary context in which we live. Thus, it travels through 25 years of black music, translating everything into a dark and paranoid rap key.

A dense musical carpet, rich in citations (the art of sampling here is at a superb level) and delirious digressions: from the spaghetti western atmospheres of the opening "Change Up" to the syncopated rhythms of "Best Life," passing through the slow and cumbersome funk of "3 Tearz," which boasts a powerful production by JPEG Mafia and the collaboration of Run The Jewels. The best episodes, however, are in the dreamy and tribal "Belly Of The Beast" and in the concluding "Combat," a sort of filthy and dark jazz jam.

All to support the absurd ravings of the host, who, between vulgarities worthy of the worst trash comedy and raw introspections, completely exposes his life experiences.

A synthetic work, but full of remarkable insights and incredibly focused episodes, that must not end up in oblivion for any reason.

Absolutely worth revisiting.