Even by the standards of alt-rap eccentrics, Antwon’s pretty damn protean: a former hardcore kid brought up on boom-bap and pop singers who’ll readily name his new favorite thrash bands after compiling a list of the best Cocteau Twins songs. The San Jose rapper’s unorthodox backstory easily situates him within the broader, border-crossing movement that, thanks to peers like Le1f, Big Baby Ghandi, and Cities Aviv, seeps steadily into hip- hop’s consciousness. “Post-internet” labels aside, it’s easy to see why his two most recent mix tapes, End of Earth and In Dark Denim, were received with enthusiasm: combining vaporwave synths, Death-Grips-style compression, and Biggie worship into a cohesive rap song is hard enough, and tougher still when sex jams are one of your main specialties. Somehow, Antwon pulled it off. On his new album, Heavy Hearted in Doldrums, the rapper constructs his boldest collection yet, grounded in improved production and his characteristic schoolboy wit.
If the album’s mildly redundant title and its po-faced track list don’t make it clear enough, Antwon’s grown sulkier since we last saw him. From the shadowy posturing of “Cold Tears”—this album’s closest thing to a banger—to the molasses-thick, melancholic “Don’t Care”, Heavy Hearted in Doldrums is often mired in sorrow. But the sadness is ultimately powerless before the rapper’s insatiable libido. In spite of his laments on “Loser” (“I used to have a heart/ It once was filled with love”), Antwon continues to approach sex with the bushy-tailed perspective of a teenager who’s just been handed his driver’s license. “She bust seven times, made a nigga feel great!” he crows on “Break Yo' Back”, a boast he supports throughout the album with his many, many references to oral sex. Wacky erotic banter remains his biggest strength, fueled by a warmhearted, sex-positive spirit that recalls fellow horn dog Danny Brown, or perhaps, a kinkier Biz Markie. Even when he’s being a creep (“As long as your Dad don’t care/ I’ma run my fingers through your baby hairs”) or indulging his bad habit of running a phrase like “bust in threes” into the ground, you’ve got to admire his originality, not to mention his gusto. At the very least, he’s leagues above the majority of his guests, whose contributions to this album range from tight (Lil Ugly Mane’s crossfaded musings on “Rain Song”) to irremediably tepid (Wiki’s shrill, stilted verse on "No Metro Nome”).
Heavy Hearted in Doldrums has been billed as Antwon’s first proper “album”, a distinction that translates into some much-needed upgrades in production. Most notably, there’s none of the dodgy mixing that rendered portions of In Dark Denim downright unlistenable. After the cramped sonics of the past, even the first few seconds of the Sean Kemp-produced, “Rain Song” feel overwhelming: a sudden onslaught of ambient nature sounds, cavernous chorals, and somber violins before the bongo beat comes creeping in. When Antwon finally comes in over the primal beat, his voice doesn’t have to fight for space, so even a stale hook like “She’s got me up all night doing that rain dance” gets a vital dose of immediacy.
That’s not to say the mix is immaculate. It suffers from a serious dearth of bass, and frequently overemphasizes their weaker aspects, like the cheap synths that drive “Mr. Intercontinental”. “KLF ELF”, the worst offender in this regard, includes a refreshingly ribald guest verse from Das Racist’s Heems that packs in a reference to Olivia Benson from “Law and Order: SVU”, but it’s hard to appreciate the rapper’s wit when he’s muffled by Pictureplane’s blaring calisthenics jams. Were this another run-of-the-mill mixtape, these flaws could easily be overlooked. But considering the fact that Heavy Hearted in Doldrums was funded by a clothing company that charges upwards of 50 bucks for a faux-distressed t-shirt, one would think there’d be fewer duds.
Last summer, Antwon crossed paths with Deafheaven guitarist Kerry McCoy for a washed-out remix of In Dark Denim’s title track, hinting at a possible new scheme through which his two selves, Crusthead and Biz Markie .gif incarnate, could be joined in anguish. Instead of putting these new configurations to the test, Heavy Hearted in Doldrums tinkers with the made-in-the-‘90s blueprint he’s been using from the start, with solid and safe results. That framework suits the rapper just fine, but listening to this album, you can’t help but wish for his dirty genius to fester into something fiercer.
