He's only in his mid-20s and is just now emerging on the national stage, thanks in part to a groundswell of Chicago-based street-oriented hip hop. But relative to other stars in what's become known as the drill scene, King Louie could be described as a vet. The recent Sony/Epic signee has recorded a series of mixtapes since his 2008 mixtape debut, Boss Shit. At the end of last year, he dropped two compilations intended to get new listeners up to speed; each was entitled Man Up Band Up, a phrase that Louie claims he invented. As it's been since the days of Rakim, flipping a rarely heard phrase into viral lingo is a key part of the job description for the regionally successful rapper, and in those terms, King L remains one of the best. His latest mixtape, Showtime, could use some tighter quality control and suffers from a few production missteps, but its diversity of musical approaches, when combined with Louie's sui generis rap style, give a sense of real possibility.
Much like mixtape-era Lil Wayne and Gucci Mane, Louie is the rare rapper whose flood-the-market distribution method encourages and rewards binge listening. And much like Gucci, Louie's lines are funnier than they might initially be given credit for, all densely packed jokes and knowing ironies hidden by a straight-faced ruthlessness that effortlessly conveys street edge without the appearance of effort. He's referred to the rapping on his debut as the "old flow." His new approach, which he's been working on over the course of the last two years, will base an entire song upon a particular cadence, with each line building into a hypnotic repeated pattern. It's a composition strategy that gives each verse its own cyclical logic. One of the reasons "Bars", from this year's The Motion Picture mixtape, has become such a fan favorite (at shows in Chicago you can watch friendly crowds recite this chorus-free song line-for-line) is that it not only epitomizes, but foregrounds Louie's unique, pattern-based rap style.
The best example on Showtime is "On Da Road", which does include a chorus, albeit one that builds upon the same rhyme structure as the verses. "On Da Road" also highlights Louie's sardonic lyrical style, as the rapper-- no stranger to gun talk or profanity-- wraps up one verse: "Irene, plus syrup/ New p's, mustard/ I'm a bad muther-cuss word." If this discussion about patterns and cadences sounds disenchanting for fans of street rap putting a premium on so-called ignorance, it misses the key tension that makes rappers like Louie so interesting: In an era where flooding the market is your main strategy, how do you keep the music novel without burning all your creative energy? Louie's verses aren't interesting because of their intricacy, but because these kinds of rhythmic and lyrical games serve a function: the possibility of endless variety, running the gamut between predictable and unpredictable, and seeing how far he can push the boundaries of what makes rap interesting without losing his audience.
Of course, these kinds of cerebral exercises are worthwhile only when the songs are there too. Unlike Motion Picture's less consistent selection (that tape was a compilation of guest verses and collaborations, primarily, along with two excellent singles), Showtime is a diverse tape with a core of very strong tracks. C-Sick, one of the most promising producers working behind Louie and the composer of his current street single "Val Venis", contributes a title track, which has a screaming stratospheric sample in an AraabMuzik style. The Million $ Mano-produced "Full of Dat Weed" samples Young Bleed's signature anthem to great effect. "Numbers" finds Fredo Santana serving as the perfect gritty hook man while the production's twisting synthesizers give the track a unusually rugged cinematic ambiance. Future has already proven that the emotional potential of autotune is far from D.O.A., but there's something about the rugged survivalist anthem "Hitta Shit", a collaboration with Shorty K, that has a particular resonance, effortlessly capturing a the feel of reckless, damaged fatalism in song.
While its high points are some of the most exciting rap currently being made, the tape overall could use some quality control; "MUBU Gang" has an odd dissonance that doesn't quite cohere, and the chainsaw production on "It's Like That" is sonically exciting the first time you hear it, and less so as the novelty wears off. Even on these tracks, Louie remains a consistent lyricist, new Chicago's deadpan class clown: "Shoot the gun sideways like Dub C on Friday/ I know I really hit him cuz his funeral on Friday." In a city with a high murder rate, this might feel like a callous trivialization, but in Louie's music, it almost seems to operate as a therapeutic form of gallows humor (or in his life, for that matter-- one of his close friends was killed earlier this year). Showtime isn't the home run some of his fans may have been waiting for, but its genuine diversity and ambition has a something-for-everyone feel that feels like a major step forward after spending most of late 2011 and early 2012 without much music in circulation.
