| Popmatters |
On Watch the Throne, Jay-Z and Kanye West released a sprawling, flawed attempt at an epic that would—in theory—fulfill both their desires to make stadium-filling hip-hop that spoke about the black experience in America in 2011, while still managing to get in the occasional bar about how awesome/not awesome it was to be Kanye West and Jay-Z. While Watch the Throne was fun at times, be honest—there aren’t more than one or two tracks from that album you still listen to on even a weekly basis. It ended up ringing false with both artists, and proved largely forgettable. So how is it that a 27-year-old sitcom star possibly best known for videos about bros who rape other bros may have succeeded where Jay and ‘Ye failed?For those of you who’ve never been on YouTube or waste their lives watching The Big Bang Theory on Thursdays at 8 (Seriously … stop that), Donald Glover started out in comedy in a very similar manner to how he began in hip-hop: slowly working his way from non-traditional formats (posting sketches with Derrick Comedy on YouTube: releasing EPs for free through his website) to now finding himself on the edge of stardom—if not the precipice of breaking out—and at least a solid audience and credibility with the indie crowd (Community barely hits four million viewers on NBC, but garners massive critical acclaim; Camp is being released on the more traditional, but still independent label Glassnote). With Camp, his debut physical release under rap moniker Childish Gambino, Glover makes the kind of Big Hip-Hop Statement that his sitcom made with its paintball episode (and I promise this is the last Community reference). This is a talented young man with a desire to take his music in any direction it can possibly go. Lyrically, Gambino has always produced solid, quotable lines. After all, he was a writer before he got into acting (as many of his old songs will inform you, he won an Emmy for writing on 30 Rock) and still produces some of the best verses you’ll hear in hip-hop this year. However, whereas EPs like Culdesac and Be Alone occasionally got bogged down in hashtag rap and trying to convince people he’s actually a rapper, Camp, for the most part, abandons that format, and it’s telling. “Backpackers”, the album’s lone song that succumbs to that outdated style of rap, is the worst song on the album. This time around, Childish Gambino has truly fulfilled his desire to provide listeners with something real. Elements of actual story-telling and emotional outpouring fill Camp with a lifeblood that other mainstream rap records just haven’t had this year....full text |
| Pastemagazine |
| Man, why does every black actor have to rap some? / I don’t know – all I know is I’m the best one Those lines from Childish Gambino’s “Bonfire,” the first single off of his first release on Glassnote, perfectly exemplify one-half of Donald Glover’s rap persona. He’s cocky, arrogant and knows he’s about to break out of this stratosphere. The other half, however, is more humble and still angry and insecure about events that transpired in his life. Camp was recorded on his own dime and produced by his close friend and Community composer Ludwig Göransson. It’s clearly an ode to everything in his past, present and future. It’s also a slight departure from his previous releases. This album has more radio-friendly tendencies, but Gambino didn’t necessarily transform into Lupe Fiasco, Common, Kid Cudi or Drake (who he all seemingly channels on the album). In fact he still plays by his own rules and gives us a cohesive 13-song album that explores everything from how his childhood friends don’t think he’s black enough because he grew up with a father to his love for women with variation, especially if they’re very Asian. The duality of Childish Gambino’s lyrics plays off better than it ever has. One line will express an insecurity then the next he’ll tell his doubters to fuck off and make a joke about his dick again. On “Backpackers” he directly addresses those who refuse to believe a black comedian who wears short shorts can be such a talented rapper. It’s a slow rhythmic beat, but it’s hidden by an angry and furious flow and lyrics to match. It’s one of the many songs that fans that strictly know him thanks to “Freaks and Geeks” will mistakenly simply brush off as not as impressive. “Heartbeat” is another song that initially seems more radio-friendly with a clublike beat and an R&B feel. Again, the lyrics are tried and true to Gambino Girls and those in Camp Gambino; they’re crass and honest. The lyrics are apparently about a girl, but the song is so much more than that. It’s actually a self-reflection, and it’s revitalizing to see a new take on two staples of rap songs. The only three songs that even remotely sound like they can have been on anything pre-Camp are the aforementioned “Bonfire,” “You See Me” and “Sunrise.” The rest of the songs are intricately orchestrated tracks that rely on his emotions expressed through carefully crafted lyrics. It’s one of the few hip-hop albums that is worth listening full through every time to capture the story that is being told, which is capped off with an actual story on the closing “That Power.” After finishing his rap, the beat lowers and Gambino tells a nearly five-minute story that provides what is likely the event that was a catalyst for everything you just listened to, which gives the next time listening to it a whole different meaning....full text |
| Guardian |
| Fans of US TV comedy might be more familiar with Childish Gambino as actor/comedian Donald Glover, currently starring in the series Community. Glover has written scripts for 30 Rock, a job given to him by comedy darling Tina Fey. When rumours circulated last year that he was auditioning for the part of Spider-Man, a Twitter campaign to get him in the red-and-black spandex went viral. Even Spider-Man creator Stan Lee joined. Glover didn't get the gig but he is none the less one of most fancied young talents in American entertainment, with a couple of movies in the pipeline. He is also a rapper. Not a comedian making jokes about hip hop – an actual artist who rhymes and makes beats. You may have heard him on the Jamie xx remix of Adele's "Rolling in the Deep". Buy it from Buy the CD Download as MP3 Childish Gambino Camp Glassnote 2011 Unsurprisingly, the rise of Childish Gambino has provoked scorn from many quarters – those who believe actors must keep to their enclosure, those who believe Glover is not "ghetto" enough to rap, and those who believe he just isn't any good. In fact, Gambino's flows are funny, furious, obnoxious, literate and pensive by turn, and roughly 2,000 times better than Will Smith's. "I made the beat retarded so I'm calling it a slow jam," he mugs on "Bonfire", the rude and raw lead track from his second album (a handful of mixtapes and his debut, Culdesac, precede this release). Most of his real zingers are unprintable, but a number of them can be found allstucktogetherreallyfast (à la vintage Eminem) on a lethal track called "You See Me". Hip-hop has long done a fine line in indignation, serving as the voice of a suppressed underclass dealing drugs and rhyming about it, two viable career opportunities in a racist world. With the advent of Kanye West, hip-hop found itself wondering how the son of an English professor could be "real". Gambino has the same issues. His family moved out of an insalubrious area to prevent Glover falling into "the lifestyle". As a result of his suburbanness, his nerdiness, his liking for non-black music ("the only black kid at the Sufjan concert") and his success, Gambino finds himself having to defend his "blackness" at every turn. More precisely, on Camp he never stops prodding the dividing line between "hood shit" and "black shit" – his words on "Outside", the opening track. "Outside" begins provocatively enough with heavenly Beach Boys harmonies. The rhymes ponder his childhood incontinence, as well as the unbridgeable rift between Glover and his favourite cousin, "the person I took sink baths with", left behind in the projects....full text |
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On Watch the Throne, Jay-Z and Kanye West released a sprawling, flawed attempt at an epic that would—in theory—fulfill both their desires to make stadium-filling hip-hop that spoke about the black experience in America in 2011, while still managing to get in the occasional bar about how awesome/not awesome it was to be Kanye West and Jay-Z. While Watch the Throne was fun at times, be honest—there aren’t more than one or two tracks from that album you still listen to on even a weekly basis. It ended up ringing false with both artists, and proved largely forgettable. So how is it that a 27-year-old sitcom star possibly best known for videos about bros who rape other bros may have succeeded where Jay and ‘Ye failed?