Welcome back. If you’re new here, the title is self-explanatory: Mano and I write and respond to RAW thoughts. Nothing cooked, everything straight from the butcher. This week, we had a Yeat sesh in Mano’s Bushwick apartment. Allison With The Assist was there too, dishing out crazy algorithmic wisdom and chuckling as we hunched over our laptops and tried to muster coherent thoughts about that swamp-monster blaring from the speaker. Also, we’ve responded to our Patreon submissions, which range from “ocky-way” controversy to a shimmering 1990s paint commercial. – Millan
If you want to submit a song, poem, Jayson Tatum for MVP argument, fit pic or Instagram apology for us to discuss in next month’s column, subscribe to our Patreon.
Within a year, Yeat has gone from a strange TikTok anomaly to an everyman rap artist. He is the universal answer to the question “What can I listen to that’s different but not too out there, that I can throw on at frat parties or internet scene circle jerks, that’ll start convos but won’t really upset anybody?” In interviews, he seems like a grade-A loser. On record, he is a dynamic, albeit derivative vocalist with a sticky lingo and a growing expanded universe of characters (Hello, KRANKY KRANKY). A less generous reading is he is all vibes no substance, the white savior of rage, the most successful hip-hop branding exercise of our time (Nextel Method™). This is all mostly true but I’d also like to think he’s a maniac, a human soundboard, and a true trendsetter. Why else would he be YoungBoy’s favorite rapper at the moment? This is The Yeat Summit, aka our track by track live reaction to AftërLyfe in the bitter cold of my backyard. – Mano
No morë talk
Mano: I want to silence the haters. Yeat can rap. I promise you. Listen to this damn song. This is progressive synth music and dude with the turban is saying nothing in the most mesmerizing ways. Rap is like 80 percent about swag and he’s got it.
Millan: Can’t type in these gloves. Too thick. Trout fishin’ gloves. Race to the finish. Dunkin Coffee.
Shmunk (feat. YoungBoy Never Broke Again)
Mano: Ok this is kinda standard Yeaterton.
Millan: What are those things that people say? Youngboy.
Millan: Yeat, algorithm king. It’s got to be rigged. This whole industry. Thinking about Jayson’s essay. Is our data for sale? Do you think it’s auctioned off between companies?
Mano: I’m not from this planet. LIES. Thing about Yeat to me is he seems like the most normal, uninteresting dude with plaques. He is an NPC with the voice of a swamp-splattered golem. He is boring as hell, unproblematic and totally chameleonic. Maybe that is secretly his appeal. How is he still doing the damn bells and why do they still sound good.
Mano: Millan has taken off his gloves, the typing has started. He is rocking back and forth shivering. I don’t know why the hell we’re outside in 30 degree weather. Anyways Yeat sounds like a little red Runescape imp. I’M ON THE EDGE. We went inside my apartment, and then we unpaused and it sounded like chaos leaking out of my brain.
Millan: Gettin cold! Need a fire pit out here. This track is very unsettling. I’d prefer some light acoustic guitar right now. “Delete my number” has a whole new meaning. Mano’s apartment comes with a basketball court – wow, not bad for Brooklyn. [Ed. note: it is a school’s basketball court that Mano happens to live near] [Ed. note on Ed. note: this was actually in reference to the SKLZ mini hoop in Mano’s backyard.] BRRRR!!! Gettin’ too cold for me right now.
Nun id change
Mano: This is damn Cube Runner music. What the fuck. Something about this man. He is doing the Weiland bit well. Best song so far. You could groove on the dancefloor to this. Who’s rapping on shit like this?
Millan: Welp, back inside. A different beat for once. Yeah ok. So much better than the last ones. It’s clubby. Not unlike this “indie sleaze” stuff. This is good. This is good. So sick.
Mano: Locomotive. Dude is chugging along.
Mano: A lullaby. I would rather hear Future on this. Or Uzi. This is incoherent blabber rap and kind of beautiful. His voice is pitched to sound like sprites conversing, the beat is a spacecraft. Millan has freaked out and left cuz he was 10 min late to a call with a writer. You know what. This song is cute as fuck.
Millan: Stressin. This album is too damn LONG!
Millan: Call with Dom.
Mano: He’s leaning into the electronic sound. Squeaking like Carti. Flowing in fast pockets about nothing.
Millan: This album is too damn LONG! The credit to those squalls does not belong to Yeat.
Mano: KRANKY KRANKY. He is a modern day Eminem.
Millan: Not that impressive to have freestyled when compared. Time passing. The lavender clock in that one cartoon where the black arrow spins. Lifestyle blogging is back!
How it go
Mano: Eh how long is he gonna ride this weird electronic shit. This is a vibe bomb. The laugh is crazy. MIllan is pacing around my bedroom anxiously.
Millan: There are 3 stories that I have to write. Yeat’s sayin Mumbo-JUMBO!
Sum 2 do
Mano: Bro the way he comes in on that first verse…I am cackling. RIBBIDDIRIBBBIDEERIBBLEEEIBLERIBLDELE. This is SoundCloud lyrical miracle rap. BRO WHAT IS THIS.
Millan: Loe Shimmy. Hour and 7 minutes !!??
Mano: BNYX is a cracked producer.
Mano: Yeat’s really in his “I can actually really rap guys” bag.
[Ed. note: At this point, Millan mostly stopped writing because he was fed up.]
Bad bënd / DëMON
Mano: Yeat is a drug user.
Mano: AWOOOOOOOOO. This is a campfire song for 12 year olds who wear Rick Owens.
Mano: Yeat is a rabid squirrel. A mischievous kid with demon eyes. He sounds like he has his hands dangling over his head and jiggin around like a girl from THE WITCH.
Millan: Gotta suffer through another one.
Mano: The bass in this one is really sweet. Yeat has mastered the Yeat Song. 99 Attack.
Mano: This is wavy.
Mano: Ngl we are losing steam. We are talking about dead blogs shitty music writers and shittier Dimes Square newsletters. What in tarnation is a “lifestyle blog.” Yeat’s voice meanders around the chat like a nasally turd.
[Ed. note: The Dimes Square / illuminati newsletters should not be written off as shitty. The clout-vortex that the work and the writers exist in is nauseating, but the literary side of this fiasco could be ushering in a new way for writers to be writers. Though it seems that the audience for these substacks relies more on the writer’s adjacency to “niche internet micro celebrities” than the actual writing, people do seem to be reading it. For better or worse. – Millan]
Millan: I DON’T WANNA DO TWO MORE.
Mano: We’ve gotta man we’ve gotta.
I just hope that I see 25.
Mano: This is like Spongebob at the Bubble Bowl.
And now… some raw thoughts, inspired by submissions from our patrons.
Billie Bugara submitted Benjamin Moore Paints’ “A Stroke of Brilliance”
Mano: Dude in the orange shirt and headphones who was GEEKIN while painting is me in 20 years.
Millan: Reagan’s dream come to life. How satisfying. Need to bring these back – just an aesthetically pleasing, pleasant commercial with big smiles, bright flowers and a simple message. Wonder if that number at the end still works; imagine calling someone to place a paint order.
Billie also sent us Average Guyz – “You Got It.” She wrote, “I found the greatest little New Jack Swing group ever during my routine NJS digging. They’re just some average guys…”
Mano: Grooooooovin. Was the endpoint of the NJS revival that Bruno/Cardi song? I feel like there was more to mine there. I always forget New Edition are from Roxbury, that makes Boston like 10 times cooler.
Millan: Rare. I love it. Using this in the future, most definitely. Need this style to make a comeback. So unapologetically desperate, proud simps. I respect that so much. Lay it all on the line for your lover.
Jameson Orvis sent us the paper, “From Microsound to Vaporwave: Internet-mediated Musics, Online Methods, and Genre” by Georgina Born and Christopher Haworth
Millan: Jameson, Jameson, Jameson. The last time we did this, I was unemployed. But as it stands now, I don’t think I can muster the energy or attention to read these 47 pages of internet-music theory. Again, I envy and respect your dedication to this. As a concession, for failing to rawly respond to your submission, I am going to platform your fascinating Substack, duck discourse. Readers: scroll through it to enter the mental depths of an internet-music metaphysician.
Mano: Jameson I promise I’m gonna read this and we will talk about it in real life ok!
Brandon Callender wrote, “‘the ocky way’ becoming a widespread trend is a bad thing, i think. it shows that a very important part of our society is eroding right before our very eyes: the trusted relationship between a chef/bartender and their regulars. if you can go into any store and ask for something crazy, what’s the point of frequenting one spot where a guy will trust your vision? or even going to a spot and having them make you something crazy? there’s no greater feeling than becoming a trusted patron who gets secret deals and first taste of a new creation.”
Mano: The ocky way is a true end times phenomenon. At first it was funny and wholesome but now nothing irks me more on TikTok. The mass elevation of such a basic function of life… good for his business, bad for society! But from my experience, I feel like it didn’t have the type of impact you’re talking about? Seems like people still order relatively normal things at the delis I frequent. If it’s really leading to a general increase in honey bun sour candy bacon egg and cheeses then we as a society are fucked.
Millan: Now that’s a raw thought. Do you think the secret deals need to be earned? This reminds me of when the Waffle House secret menu went viral, and people started ordering slices of pie. Just get an All-star, it’s not that complicated. Same thing with Starbucks. In middle school I looked up “Starbucks secret menu” and ordered the “white tuxedo” the next time I went. It’s a black and white mocha, but the barista’s had no idea what I was talking about so I had to explain to them exactly what I wanted, turning me into an annoying customer rather than someone with “secret menu” capabilities. So yeah, I see what you mean, and I’m sure it’s infuriating for the employees as well–customers you’ve never seen before expecting a golden spoon. Lord.