There’s a clean boom that emanates off the natural texture of Psycho YP’s voice, a noticeable quality that helps his enunciation glisten, and also gives him a natural cadence that is easily authoritative. Although, YP, who’s 19 years old, has a voice that can suggest that he’s a little beyond his years, the cognizance fueling his writing and thematic berth truly captures youthful energy at its most belligerent – albeit with increasing brilliance on every try.
YP silently (well, depending on if you were paying attention) delivered one of last year’s best rap songs in “Who Dis?,” using the popular “new phone, who dis?” barb as the menacing hook in between two technically tight, imperial but light-hearted verses.
With Leviathan production backing his burly voice, “Who Dis?” is not only a compelling performance, it’s also an infectious banger with high replay value.
Considering that YP already had an EP under his belt, 2016’s Lost In The Sauce, prior to “Who Dis?,” there’s a clear amount of improvement that occurred between his debut EP and the latter single. While solid beat selection and the innate ability to turn simple phrases into great hooks through repetition is showcased on Lost In The Sauce, it seemed like YP was treating his verses as after thoughts.
His hooks did it; the beats did it; but even with their allotted brevity, most of his verses lacked precision and they barely left memorable dents.
In the two years since Lost In The Sauce, though, YP has been hard at work; two solid, joint EPs with friend and frequent collaborator Kuddi Is Dead and a tonne of stellar guest features – he reposts a new song that he’s on almost every other week to his SoundCloud. This increased catalog has served as is a pruning ground for YP’s precocious skillset, revealing not only a rapper with a better pen, but also a more developed artist with an expanded range to serve his improved pop sensibilities.
All these attributes are merged on YP’s newly released, debut full length project YPSZN, in what is undoubtedly a new artistic peak for YP.
Over jaw breaking, reverberating bass drops and dark keys chiming like church bells, ear stomping opener “Andale” finds YP on a braggadocios tip, emphatically doling out idle threats bereft of humility (“I see my people surrounded by fakes/that’s why I’m throwing shots on every song”). Sounding as pumped as the production, YP’s flow perfectly accentuate strong verses. Quotable lines like “my n***as jumpmans like J’s/and I be on necks like a chain” are flung around with gleeful fervor.
Also part of YP’s improved technical dexterity is an increased awareness of the importance of cadences. Across the duration of YPSZN, YP adjusts the texture of his voice, amplifying the range of its unique ring in the process. On chirpy trap banger and standout cut “Chain Way,” YP serrates his way through the first verse, floats on the second verse, while jiggling on the hook.
Given that YP clearly favors the aesthetics of boisterous, modern day trap music, down to the superficial tropes of its topical palette, the overt lack of insight is replaced by a robust, substantial larger than life personality. Since the array of subject matter is in 2-D, and forming some sort of deeper connection with an artist whose calling card is being young and reckless can be difficult (and maybe even unnecessary,) YPSZN excels on a visceral level, which is kinda point. From this POV, there’s no actual filler on the tape.
As the element of expression, YP’s voice, now with a prismatic facelift, drives YPSZN as a bonafide front-to-back listen. As shown by pre-released singles “Losing You” and “Black Card,” on which he sings quite adequately, there’s a newfound dynamism in YP’s approach. The extra melodic range melds in nicely – alternately adding to or removing from the hue of YP’s usual terrain – emphasizing YP’s growth as an all-round music maker. Songs solely relying on jolly melodies (“Sugar & Spice) coexist with woozy bangers (“Oga”) without crippling the album’s pacing due to inept execution.
Sonically, YPSZN is the audio equivalent of vacationing at a trap house, on a tropical island. Sturdy cuts are laced with ominously shining keys and eerie piano strings, while the more fluid cuts co-opt sounds from Caribbean pop and EDM, with the tape being crystallized and tied together by thunderous synths. Production is supplied by a village of young producers (11 of them), from frequent collaborators (Jaylon, Johnson IP) to other recognizable mainstays of the bustling “SoundCloud generation” (Higo, Le Mav). Far from cluttering the tape, the sheer number of producers plays into YP’s vision to reupholster his sound in more definite and expansive terms.
Despite international dominance, Trap music has struggled to find a foothold in Nigerian mainstream music – the closest it’s gotten is via the sadly, false start of Terry Apala’s Fuji-inflected styling. There are a few songs with Trojan horse markings on YPSZN that can warm up national reception to YP and by extension, Trap music. The Jaylon and Higo co-helmed “Standard” is an obvious choice for a radio push, it’s an extremely catchy song with heavy colorings of afro-pop – a groovy combo of bright keys, mid-tempo drums and horn scats.
On the club side, the frenetic and dancefloor ready “Heartless” would be a great fit for DJ sets – an irony since it’s a sad song about a sour relationship with a Delilah-esque lady (word to Adekunle Gold). “Heartless” features AYUÜ and Santi, both bringing much needed simp and palpable disappointment. By comparison, YP is less mature, offering up his feelings with a tone that flashes disgust.
YP’s current level of emotional awareness is monochromatic, a phenomenon that can be excused by the exuberance attached to his age. He’s still at the stage where he thinks untethering the emotional from (and laying emphasis on) the physical (“What’s Love?”) is cool. It would be interesting to see how personal growth manifests in his music in coming years, but to his credit, YP does make monochrome sound like buzzing shades of purple on YPSZN.