Ivisible shine chillin dash full#
Ivisible shine chillin dash series#

The piano chords are simple and translucent the beat ambles casually. There isn’t much to it in terms of melody or structure. “Chanel” is the first and best of them, capturing an artist in total command of his faculties as a singer, writer, and rapper.

Ivisible shine chillin dash series#

Listen: J Balvin / Willy William, “Mi Gente (Remix)” Īfter releasing Blonde in 2016, Frank Ocean spent the next year trickling out a series of singles that built upon that album’s fluid confidence.

It remains a testament to pop music’s ability to push back against growing neo-nationalist fervor-there was no border, no wall, that could keep people from coming together and loving this song. Aided on the remix by Beyoncé, who audaciously tackles Spanish and ups the diva ante, “Mi Gente” became the first all-Spanish song to reach the top of Spotify’s Global Top 50 chart. His lines like “el mundo nos quiere” (“the world wants us”) transform the song into a universal call to the dancefloor, an embrace of solidarity and unification at a time of enormous worldwide polarization. No wonder “Mi Gente” was such a global, cross-culture sensation.īalvin worked with William to reinvent the source material, adding Spanish lyrics, chants, and ferocious Latin percussion. Much of what makes Colombian singer J Balvin’s “Mi Gente” sizzle-that audacious drumbeat, that insistent five-note vocal melody-is lifted from Mauritian-French singer Willy William’s 2017 track “Voodoo Song,” which itself reinterprets a sample from the Indian composer Akassh. J Balvin / Willy William: “Mi Gente (Remix)” (2017) But his actual relationship to such sources could be hard to read: Was Maus poking fun at music’s power to manufacture an emotional response, like when we find ourselves crying in the middle of a commercial, or celebrating its potential to offer us a fleeting moment of ecstasy, a glimpse of a world that is better than our own? Arriving at the end of 2011’s We Must Be the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves with the cathartic finality of perfectly curated exit music, this song-with its glittering harpsichord arpeggios, briskly pulsing bass, and grandiose allusions to borderless love-is the closest Maus has ever come to being a true believer.

Ivisible shine chillin dash full#

'Rappers I monkey flip em with the funky rhythm I be kicking/Musician, inflicting composition/of pain I'm like Scarface sniffing cocaine/Holding a M-16, see with the pen I'm extreme, now/Bullet holes left in my peepholes/I'm suited up in street clothes/Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes/Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay/I keep some E&J, sitting bent up in the stairway/Or either on the corner betting Grants with the celo champs/Laughing at baseheads, tryin' to sell some broken amps/G-Packs get off quick, forever n***** talk s***/Reminiscing about the last time the Task Force flipped/N***** be running through the block shootin'/Time to start the revolution, catch a body, head for Houston/Once they caught us off-guard, the Mac-10 was in the grass and/I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an assassin/Pick the Mac up, told brothers, 'Back up,' the Mac spit/Lead was hitting n*****, one ran, I made him back flip/Heard a few chicks scream, my arm shook, couldn't look/Gave another squeeze, heard it click, 'yo, my s*** is stuck'/Try to cock it, it wouldn't shoot, now I'm in danger/Finally pulled it back and saw 3 bullets caught up in the chamber/So now I'm jetting to the building lobby/And it was full of children probably couldn't see as high as I be/(So what you saying?) It's like the game ain't the same/Got younger n***** pulling the triggers, bringing fame to their name/And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners/In broad daylight, stickup kids: they run up on us/4-5's and gauges, Macs, in fact/Same n***** will catch a back-to-back, snatching your cracks in black/There was a snitch on the block getting n****s knocked/So hold your stash 'til the coke price drop/I know this crackhead who said she's got to smoke nice rock/And if it's good, she'll bring you customers in measuring pots/But yo, you gotta slide on a vacation, inside information/Keeps large n***** erasin' and their wives basin'/It drops deep as it does in my breath/I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death/Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined/I think of crime when I'm in a New York state of mind.Like many of his lo-fi pop contemporaries in the early ’10s, reclusive Midwesterner John Maus pushed underground music forward by looking backward-rejecting digital studio techniques in favor of old drum machines and wonky synths, excavating the dramatic excesses of ’80s stadium pop and sentimental radio jingles as though they held clues to some hard-to-pinpoint generational subconscious.