On Swet Shop Boys’ debut LP, Cashmere, the duo of Heems (ex-Das Racist) and Riz MC (Rogue One, a couple episodes of “Girls”) broached issues affecting the South Asian diaspora. Suffused in their rhymes were passionate threads about racism that Heems and Riz tackled with nuance, empathy, and humor. Perhaps most importantly, they also wrote bangers in the process; cuts like “T5,” “No Fly List” and “Zayn Malik” were clearly built for car stereos more than dissertation workshops.
With the Sufi La EP, Heems and Riz have now turned their attention to lighter fare. They draw more inspiration from Kid ’n Play than Public Enemy across six tracks of mostly party-rap powered by Redinho’s South Asian sample flips. Riz and Heems still have dense, double-time bars and unhurried punch lines, respectively, though Riz hangs back a bit on these songs, while Heems ventures out on his own. The most noticeable difference, though, are the lower stakes—a loose, playful energy that treads a thin line between heartfelt camaraderie and just fucking around.
Despite these ambitions, Sufi La still has plenty of high points. The EP’s lead single, “Thas My Girl,” manages to stick the landing where the duo’s previous attempts at party anthems failed. The aptly-named opening number, “Anthem,” serves as a theme song of sorts, with Heems bragging about Riz’s successes (“He went from acting unruly, now he acting in movies”) and screaming “fuck the Pet Shop Boys” with all the swagger of a cartoon villain. Riz tries to match his bravado but toward the end of his verse, can’t help but dip into self-reflection, wondering if he’s been held back by his ethnicity or benefitted from its novelty (“I think, what if I was fairer skinned, had less of the melanin?/Would I get more work or would I not be worth anything?”). It’s a signature Swet Shop Boys move: a string of boasts followed by a contemplative sigh.
“Birding,” a solo Heems endeavor, is easily the goofiest song on the EP and one of its best, even without Riz to play foil. Inspired by the Mughal emperors’ pastime of birdwatching, the song’s minimal beat, built from little more than a bird call and shuffling drums, feels like an airy response to the current flute-rap zeitgeist. Heems ends nearly all of his couplets here with a species of bird, finding both obvious puns (“I’m on the block like I’m coke or heroin/Fit very colorful, tricolored heron”) and more tongue-in-cheek constructions (“She don’t like you, she said you was a peasant/She said I’m classy like a ring-necked pheasant”).
Not every track on Sufi La clicks. “Zombie” sounds like a sequel to the tabla-heavy “Half Moghul Half Mowgli,” though its central conceit—immigrant-hating nativists cast as the walking dead—feels a bit ham-fisted. Album closer “Need Moor” also falls a bit flat as the pair provide meta-commentary on their own lifestyle, weaving a cautionary tale about what unchecked greed and libido can do to a touring musician. It’s a fine rap song, but their observations on fame feel rather pat compared to, say, Vince Staples’ recent explorations of the topic.
Sufi La can’t help but feel a bit unrefined next to the group's more polished full-length. The rapping here is noticeably less sharp, so much so that it’s easy to imagine many of these songs didn’t make the cut for Cashmere. But Sufi La serves as a reminder that Heems and Riz MC have range—that neither fit neatly into a box as joke-rapper or conscious-rapper. But just like the rest of us, Swet Shop Boys sometimes need a break from politics.
