The phrase “boy band” usually brings to mind groups that, regardless of whatever genuine fanbase they have, are relentlessly manufactured and market-tested: the Osmonds, New Kids on the Block, BTS. Even a self-described boy band like BROCKHAMPTON has more industry oomph behind them than your average internet-born rap group. The genre-flipping Swedish collective Drain Gang has the features of a boy band—its members are fashion-forward babyfaces, its fans are a devoted and meme-generating street team, its sound is aching and pretty—but the bones are different. As its most prolific member, Bladee is the group’s de facto leader alongside vocalists Thaiboy Digital and ecco2k and producer whitearmor. The Fool is the rapper’s fourth full-length in a little over a year, and despite his busy release schedule, he remains elusive, ambiguous, even a little androgynous, drawing in fans with enough mystery while also sating their appetite for new music.
Bladee’s heavily accented earlier work is still something of an acquired taste, but over the years, he’s proved himself a formidable and surprisingly family-friendly pop stylist: “I’m a good boy on the track, no cussing,” he raps on “Hotel Breakfast.” His work has long circled trance and dance-pop, with its glossy electronic production and sparkling beats, but last year’s Good Luck, a forwardly maximalist album full of euphoric synth lines and high-energy drops, embraced EDM like never before. The Fool scales back those rave ambitions somewhat, and the result is Bladee’s most distilled creative package thus far. The title is a tarot reference, a metaphor that extends to the album’s sound. The record is like a full hand, each card representing a different side of Bladee or character he embodies: on “Let’s Ride,” he’s the reluctantly boastful MC riding a BMX bike and making Rich Homie Quan references; on “desiree,” he’s the sensitive crooner and lover; on “Trendy,” he’s the admitted Joker of the deck.
Long before the cult following of Drain Gang, Bladee emerged as an associate of Yung Lean, who transitioned from a viral meme star to a much noisier, rough-edged experimentalist. In the recent documentary Yung Lean: In My Head, Bladee is only a brief, fly-on-the-wall presence, despite the artists’ close relationship, remaining guarded while Lean opts for transparency. The irony is that Lean’s music is less accessible, while Bladee dabbles in the glittering sheen of hyperpop, to the point of even dropping a recent remix with Charli XCX. The beats on The Fool are bass-heavy and drum-driven, but each instrumental overflows with the sense of dreaminess that’s become Bladee’s specialty; the kaleidoscopic, trance-like synth lines on “Search True” or “Thee 9 Is Up” could easily be expanded into full-length dancefloor cuts.
The heady EDM flavor of his work lends it a euphoric optimism, but Bladee’s reluctance to soak in the spotlight pairs the positivity with an iciness and sense of emotional complexity. Even in his bright vocals, there’s a shyness to his presence. Individual words often don’t stand out; what registers is the quality of his voice, fragile and crystalline, capable of gliding to falsetto with ease. Bladee’s vocals are frequently layered, as overdubs turn him into a chorus of angels. But it’s not just his voice that has become clearer—pop music as a whole is now more in line with his unfamiliar timbre. The word “pop” has grown to encompass a broader range of music than ever, as international styles from reggaeton to K-pop have found mainstream success in the United States, and experimentalists like PC Music have made an impact on chart-topping sounds.
One of The Fool’s track titles points to a much more prefabricated boy band than Drain Gang: “I Want It That Way.” But there’s no Lou Pearlman behind the scenes or industry strings being pulled—Bladee’s unexpected rise as an online heartthrob and trance poet has felt organic and natural. With each release, his production leans more toward dance and synthpop. He seems more and more confident, as something approaching a star, melding the lyrical tropes and trap drums of American rap, the emotions and ethereality of European dance music, and the experimentation of pop’s new international vanguard. Almost a decade ago, when Bladee first started releasing music, it may have seemed unlikely for a Swedish rapper influenced by Eurodance and IDM alike to find a serious mainstream audience in America. Now it doesn’t seem like such a foolish dream.
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