Back in the late ’00s and early 2010s, an often underappreciated wave of Atlanta rap came after the rise of trap led by T.I., Jeezy, and Gucci Mane, and before Young Thug, Migos, and Future turned into megastars. They were young, flashy, had bad haircuts, never seemed to be in a sour mood, used AutoTune in a way that made their voices resemble cyborgs, and sung-rapped over sweet-sounding pop-rap beats that might make you want to lay on your stomach and kick your feet in the air. These were rappers like Travis Porter, Roscoe Dash, and the Rich Kidz, who for a brief moment in time churned out giddy party anthems. Now, the Buffalo-born, Eastside Atlanta-raised Bear1Boss is reigniting this torch.
For some time, Bear1Boss loomed in the background of Atlanta’s underground, but in the last 10 months behind a prolific run of seven mixtapes and EPs, his bright, optimistic, and melodic take on Atlanta rap has been a breath of fresh air—especially with the boom of YoungBoy pain rap and Whole Lotta Red raging rockstar vibes. “Do not listen to me unless you want to have fun, I don’t do depressing music,” Bear said in an interview, and it’s become an unofficial mantra. That’s pretty much the mood of his latest and best project yet, America’s Sweetheart 2, which feels like he put on a blindfold and dragged and dropped songs from his hard drive into a folder and called it a mixtape.
Over the course of 21 structureless tracks that barely crack the two-minute mark, Bear1Boss, along with a squadron of producers—Popstar Benny, 14 Golds, Ziti, and many more—expand on that turn of the decade pop-rap foundation. On “New Panoramic,” despite lyrics that could have been spit out by an AI, Bear’s nasally melodies have this mesmerizing nature to them that might bring to mind Skooly, and the production blends lush keys with effects that sound like buttons being smashed in a cartoon spaceship. The same could be said for “Girl,” which pays homage to Bear’s infatuation with Atlanta’s mixtape era by weaving gunshots, sirens, and air horns in between his sugary croons and the cutesy beat. “Mojo” is probably the deepest Bear will get: “I was in that club, and I think I seen my old ho/Thousand racks in the club, yeah, I think I got to let it go,” he lilts as if he just poured his heart out, and even though he clearly hasn’t, it feels like he did.
But, of course, given that Bear’s approach to mixtapes is so uncut, there are records scattered across the project that are unlistenable. I can’t tell if “New Ferrari” is purposely trying to capture the low-quality feel of a leak or if he just didn’t care enough. “Fatality” sounds like a throwaway from Uzi’s Luv Is Rage era. And because the lyrics are so minimal when the production takes a step down like it does on “Personal,” the song immediately falls flat. These issues plagued Bear’s previous mixtapes like Super Fancy 2 and Lil Hotsauce Vert more than they do America’s Sweetheart 2. The consistency has caught up with the experimentation, and given that the songs are so short, they only need one standout moment to justify their replayability, whether it’s the glitchiness of “Me + U” that has traces of digicore or the opening seconds of “Nan B!tch,” which sounds a bit like he’s warbling over a jungle track. Or “Bottom,” which has these hypnotic high-pitched screeching raps that sound like they belong on a mixtape hosted by DJ Scream. It’s fun and flawed and doesn’t give a shit, just like all of the music that inspires him.
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