Listening to Earl Sweatshirt’s early work is a bit of moral quandary. It’s impossible to ignore his lyrical genius, but it’s also difficult to appreciate that genius when it is wrapped in deeply violent and misogynistic themes.
But his latest album, I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside, Sweatshirt has moved toward a much more mature, if conflicted and confused, personality. Sweatshirt produced all but one track on the album, and it shows — you can practically feel the contact high through the headphones.
Compared to his first album, Earl, this release is a more deliberate, contemplative work. The beats are slow, often sliding in and out of time. As a whole, the album sounds almost like it’s melting together. This is especially evident in “Grief,” with its lurching time and trippy music video.
At the heart of I Don’t Like Shit are themes of loss, inner turmoil and coming-of-age. Sweatshirt uses the same quick tongue and clever lyrics that we’ve come to expect from him, but he tackles more serious issues, and in a more mature manner — by my tally, there wasn’t a single rape joke or homophobic slur on the album.
Sweatshirt grapples with the concept of mortality — his and others’ — throughout the record, often with the help of drugs. In the albums’ opening track “Huey,” Sweatshirt raps, “I spent the day drinking and missing my grandmother; in “Grief” he laments, “Thinking ’bout my grandmama, find a bottle \ Imma wallow when I lie in that;” and in his fantastic verse on “DNA,” collaborator Nakel Smith discusses his brother’s death: “I ain’t seen us in years \ And this news right here almost made me have a heart attack.”
Grief is not limited to death, but also life’s daily tribulations. For instance, the breakup with his girlfriend appears throughout the album. On “Mantra” he raps, “And I hate when you home \ And when I’m gone I don’t call cause you nag.” The entire second verse is a none-too-kind reflection on the relationship.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AC6dUsXVIFw
We also hear Sweatshirt grappling with coming of age as a celebrity. He discusses his issues with dealing with a large, adoring fanbase when he’d rather be left alone.
“Now you surrounded with a gaggle of a hundred fucking thousand kids \ Who you can’t get mad at when they want a pound and a pic \ Cause they the reason that the traffic on the browser quick \ And they the reason that the paper in your trousers thick,” Sweatshirt raps on “Mantra.”
It’s clear that Sweatshirt is still struggling to discover himself. But it’s equally clear that he’s learned to be honest with himself. The music is full of self-reflection, both figuratively and literally, with the concept of mirrors shows up numerous times.
This striking honesty and self-reflection is detailed through raw discussion of drug use; rather than glorifying it or bragging about it, Sweatshirt talks about how he uses drugs — mostly alcohol, pot and Xanax — as a coping mechanism. On “Inside” he raps, “Face-drinking smoker, it help me duck when emotion jab.”
Notably absent from the album is fellow Odd Future — an LA-based hip-hop collective — member and founder Tyler, the Creator. In fact, Vince Staples is the only Odd Future member with a verse on the album, though Left Brain produced “Off Top.” This could be a sign of Sweatshirt coming into his own, or it could signal a deeper rift. The first verse of “Mantra” could be read as Sweatshirt’s frustration with Tyler. While the album is well-done, it almost doesn’t feel like an Sweatshirt album without appearances from Tyler and friends.
The main issue with I Don’t Like Shit is its length; it consists of 10 tracks that average right around three minutes each. Of course, the upside of this is that every song feels like it belongs — there aren’t any filler tracks. Each and every song seems well thought out and crucial to the album as a whole.
More than anything, I Don’t Like Shit is a deeply honest work. We still don’t know exactly who Sweatshirt is — neither does he — but each track gives us a glimpse into the life an artist, as troubled as he is talented, trying to come to terms with his identity.
