Mach-Hommy thinks a lot about what his labor is worth. Very little of the Newark MC’s music is available online, and the physical editions are always limited. His last project, the seven-track EP Fete Des Morts AKA Dia De Los Muertos, mostly produced by Earl Sweatshirt, costs $111.11 to download on Bandcamp. If you don’t know anything else about Hommy, that’s pretty much by design: He’s done only a handful of interviews, and in those few he’s revealed almost nothing about himself. His songs don’t have videos. He has almost no social-media presence. Rap is mostly a business strategy for him, as he’s made quite clear. “I’m here for the bag, son,” he said when asked what he hoped to get out of his art in a rare interview. “I’m here for the fucking bag of money, you dumb ass.”
Hommy’s latest release, Bulletproof Luh, is one of his more affordable works. Vinyl packages are available for between £40 and £160—yes, those numbers are in pounds. The raps themselves are far from an afterthought, but it’s easy to believe they were created largely with the intention of securing the bag. “They say I’m wrong for wanting all of these things/Gimme my dough, fuck the karma, we kings,” he raps on “Fubar.” His whole method is all about creating value, as he’s put it before, controlling “the dispensation and the interaction.”
Released on Valentine’s Day, Bulletproof Luh is in large part about Hommy’s relationships with the women in his life. These aren’t love stories, though. He’s as cold and calculating with people as he is with his money. Everything’s an asset or a liability, no in between. On “Grease,” he spits game at a potential partner, then lays out the prerequisites for being with him, which mostly just means understanding she isn’t a priority. “Regina” takes the persuasion a step further, addressing his target by name and flattering her. She loves coke, but she never bought crack from Hommy, which seems to impress him. “Yvonne” delves into the backstory of a woman who’s described as a femme fatale using her influence to manipulate powerful men. “Everybody knows that girls with big smiles/That wear nice clothes run the world with style,” he raps on “Open Sesame.” Hommy seems infatuated with these women, fixated enough to be intrigued by them but not enough to love them.
As always, he’s meticulous with his raps. His verses are often transactional, sometimes even economical, both in how he writes and how he interacts with his characters. His stories are compact, packed with info, yet they remain loose and free-flowing, taking natural turns. It’s the little things that give them dimension. His descriptions are vivid, particularly when they’re delivered as quick asides. “My white ingenue/Au jus, it’s too gushy,” he raps on “Regina,” dipping in and out of French; “Shawty got legs like fine Cabernet,” he casually mentions at the start of “Open Sesame.” On “Honey Roasted,” Hommy’s jetsetter raps snap in and out of place as he interpolates John Denver’s “Leaving on a Jet Plane” and spits breathless phrases with ease. His flashbacks mimic the shades of memory: Some details are crisp and others are vague, worn down by time. “My favorite cousin gave me a pair of Adidas, Lakers color, and some rubbers/Some gun with seven shots and it was foreign/A Makaveli top to match the decorum/Very fresh with the forums,” he raps on “Apple Juice.” His vignettes have depth and shape.
The production on Bulletproof Luh is rich and expressive. The entire record feels plush, the verses stitching neatly into the fabric of his soul samples. Pitched voices wail as he strings together come-ons and sells his playboy persona, on “Apple Juice” and “Yvonne,” especially. There’s no outsourcing here: As his Bandcamp page puts it, all of the songs were “produced by Mach-Hommy for Mach-Hommy,” as if he’s Marc Jacobs, taking full credit for his work. Hommy is constantly letting listeners know he has both creative control and quality control. Everything about his music exemplifies his core belief: Build something and make your own value.
