Album Review: I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside // Earl Sweatshirt

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I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside is a fairly ominous title for a 21 year old rapper’s sophomore effort. Yet Earl Sweatshirt’s 10 song opus lives exactly up to its billing, existing as a sparse journey into the disconnected psychological innards of the young wordsmith. Sweatshirt, known formally as Thebe Neruda Kgositsile, burst onto rap music’s centre stage as part of the now infamous Californian collective Odd Future. The group’s exploits were a welcome shake up to the scene, with their raucous live sets conjuring up images of rabid underground punk shows; playing with deliberately faux satanic imagery and sheer unpredictability.

The collective acted as a springboard for its members, allowing for Earl’s contemporaries, most notably Tyler, The Creator, to go on and become successful in their own right, with Creator being able to boast features from hip hop behemoths Kanye West and Lil Wayne on his recently released fourth album Cherry Bomb.  Despite Sweatshirt also experiencing a vast amount of acclaim, his path to stardom wasn’t as linear as his Odd Future counterpart. In a fairly bizarre turn of events he was absent for a large majority of the collectives rise to notoriety in 2011, sent away to a reconciliation academy in Samoa at the request of his mother. The skulking, abrasive 2010 mixtape Earl stood as his sole release, almost frozen in time with Sweatshirt worlds away from the furore that surrounded him.

Earl returned home to an Odd Future frenzy in 2012 with him releasing his debut full length Doris a year later. The immense pressure on Sweatshirt did little to faze him with highlights such as BadBadNotGood’s involvement on ‘Hoarse’ and the breezy ‘Sunday’ featuring Frank Ocean laying waste to any preconceived notions of debut album jitters for the then nineteen year old. The musical progression was extremely evident on ‘Doris’, with its subject matter maturing substantially from the adolescent indignation found on ‘Earl’. On occasions, he may have been hindered by the sheer volume of guest spots on the album; perhaps a folly that was a result of his desire to live up to the staggering reputation that amassed in his absence, with these collaborations at times eclipsing his own lyrical splendour.

These slight grievances don’t resurface on I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside, however, as Sweatshirt captivates from start to finish. The album exists separately from its predecessor, standing alone in a state of mental fragility, wallowing triumphantly in its own vulnerability. These are themes best conveyed on the stagnant, down tempo ‘Faucet’, a track that sees Sweatshirt documenting the tumultuous time leading up to his expulsion to Samoa, giving an insight into the detached relationship he shared with his mother. An air of desperation sweeps over the following cut and lead single off the album ‘Greif’, a gloom ridden, glitched insight into the mindset of a man attempting to come to terms with the intense fame that rapidly engulfed his once placid existence, as he foregrounds issues of substance abuse: “Step into the shadows, we could talk addiction”.

The intricacies of Sweatshirt’s wordplay on I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside make for an intriguing listen. His lyricism retains directness in its approach, yet it still encapsulates the metaphorical and symbolic complexities that make him one of the most adept writers the genre has to offer. These are traits best seen on the venomous ‘Mantra’, with Sweatshirt attacking a failed relationship, venting on the emotional turmoil he had to endure as a result. The brutally honest content found on ‘DNA’ is also a highlight, with Odd Future affiliate and skater by trade Nakel Smith spitting his verses in ode to a fallen friend, his deliverance mesmerisingly strained and above all, poignantly authentic.

Sweatshirt’s mental fragility is starkly evident throughout the album’s duration, as he paints a gloomy picture of anxiety and self deprecation. He confronts these themes with aplomb, addressing them with consummate ease and leaving the listener to piece together his intended message through his delightfully ambiguous lyricism. The end result is a cohesive document that wades into the murky abyss of fame, strained relationships and acute addiction, remaining compelling and rewarding in equal measure. Sweatshirt has well and truly set his stall out at the top table of the hip hop hierarchy with this incredibly introspective release.

Words by Joe Connell

 

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