Compact Disc (CD)
Jeremiah Jae’s music doesn’t hit you straight away; it floats in and slowly unfolds in a massive jumble of faded soul, obscure movie clips, and dirt-encrusted drum loops. To appreciate Jae is to appreciate despair—the cold-blooded psyche it induces, the darkness from which prosperity can emerge. Across several releases, the L.A.-based rapper/producer has spoken to those on the come up, presenting himself as a modern-day street poet wearing struggle on his sleeve. You hear it in his flow—a tattered, sedated delivery that barely rates above a groan—and throughout the lo-fi beats he assembles.
Jae’s impressive new EP—When Daffi Attacks—is even darker than usual, flipping through several themes in a dense 25 minutes. Performed through Jae’s alter ego, Daffi, the part-vocal, part-instrumental release grapples with anxiety, police brutality, and the inherent dangers of being a young black male in a major city. It’s similar to the hardship Jae dissected on 2012’s Raw Money Raps and 2016’s A Cold Night, but here, his judgement cuts with deep, pinpoint precision. “What’s ISIS when they paying cops for homicide,” Jae quips on “No Chill.” “You vagina behind a badge wit a mustache.”
Lines like these come in spurts for Jae, whose tone and cadence resemble that of Mobb Deep’s Prodigy, and lyrics that tend to withdraw into the soundtrack. As with any Jae project, Daffi is best consumed in one chunk, preferably at night or under the influence. There’s a strong cinematic aspect to the EP, and as it plays, one can almost see the songs take shape. Yet through all the seething resentment, Jae remains hopeful in the grander scheme, punching holes in the dark until he sees a glimmer of light. In his world, where sleep is nonessential and the grind is paramount, there’s nowhere to go but up.
