Here's a partial list of what Azealia Banks has been up to since the digital release of her debut 1991 EP less than two months ago: She said in a Tumblr post she would be quitting "the 'rap game'... or whatever the fuck that means." She split with her manager, who also represents Lady Gaga. She pushed back the release date of her mixtape, Fantasea-- previously titled Fantastic-- by a week. She performed live at what she billed as a Mermaid Ball, first in New York, and then in Los Angeles, being joined for the latter by Charli XCX, Rye Rye, and unannounced guest Robyn. A New York tabloid even published gossip about her love life.
The 21-year-old Harlem native's use of mermaid imagery for this release is a revealing choice, and not just for its connection to the self-consciously ridiculous #seapunk subculture (which, hilariously, disavows mermaids anyway). Like Ariel with her thingamabobs, Banks is caught between worlds, a figure in transition. Her 19-track, 52-minute mixtape is an often thrilling document of a phenomenally gifted performer in a state of flux: between rapper and singer, between dance and hip-hop, between consolidating the gains built on last winter's raunchily transcendent single "212" and trying out new approaches. If, as she put it, Fantasea is a "test run," then Banks passes with aquamarine colors. Speaking of blue streaks, she's on one.
The past several weeks also saw Banks rapping foul-mouthed circles around Missy Elliott on a remix of M.I.A.'s "Bad Girls". It's the nearest she's come to the conventional hip-hop path of showing up on a better-known rapper's track, although she has appeared on music by non-rappers Major Lazer, Scissor Sisters, and, inevitably, Lana Del Rey. And whether or not Banks wants to be known as an MC, many of Fantasea's best moments showcase her slang-wise verbal dexterity. "Jumanji", produced by TNGHT's Hudson Mohawke and fellow UK producer Nick Hook, is the closest thing to another "212", with rapidfire verses and an instantly quotable "real bitch, all day/ Uptown, Broadway" hook over what sounds like elephants escaping from an urban zoo. Diplo's marching "Fuck Up the Fun" lets Banks swerve between casual, non-rapped chatter and ratatat shit talk.
In fact, Banks' sharp ear for Caribbean-inflected, rave-reminiscent electronic backing tracks is another major factor in Fantasea's considerable appeal. From the opening rework of Prodigy's jungle-crazed, Max Romeo-sampling 1992 single "Out of Space", the mood evokes nothing so much as Zomby's modernization of vintage electronic dance music on 2008's Where Were U in '92?. An early peak is the chipmunk-pitched house diva cries and disembodied Michael J. Fox anti-drug PSA of the title track, where Banks shifts between virtuosic fast rap and a flirtatiously sung refrain over Machinedrum's neon-blippy "Fantastix". Just as Banks has taken a non-traditional hip-hop path, she's avoiding lazy Calvin Harris-David Guetta club-pop trendfucking, too.
Of course, vintage house also has loads of connotations when it comes to sexual politics. For all the bravery of Frank Ocean's unforgettable story of his unrequited love for a man, it's worth remembering that Banks-- like her fellow LaGuardia High School of Music and Art and Performing Arts alumna Nicki Minaj-- previously went on the record as bixexual. Fantasea is notably fluid in its highly explicit sexual voraciousness; guys get a taste of that, erm, cake on other TNGHT half Lunice's cloud-rap snake charmer "Runnin'", while on O/W/W/W/L/S' cash-register-accented production "Us", Banks chuckles: "I know niggas who probably dicked a nigga." Less successful is Banks' on-the-nose vogue-rap over Zebra Katz' minimal "Ima Read", previously cattily perfected by Njena Reddd Foxxx. "Fierce", the mixtape's most overt gay-culture ode, endearingly samples a former drag queen and suggests that financial success is better than acclaim.
All that said, Fantasea is weakest when it comes to its aquatic theme. The mermaid references on "Aquababe" feel forced, despite riding a Machinedrum remix of Portland producer EProm's "Regis Chillbin" that brings to mind an air raid at a cantina for singing humpback whales. The guest rappers, too-- Yonkers hardass Styles P on acid-squiggling earworm "Nathan", London grime vet Shystie over an otherworldly Ikonika track on "Neptune"-- lend credibility, but can't quite enter Banks' self-contained world; her lack of non-producer collaborators more generally appears to be a wise choice. The brassily sung come-ons of "Chips" are forgettable, a rarity for Banks. And her pre-"212" no-holds-barred rhymes on "L8R" lack a bit of the artist's later fire, though they do offer a provocative reminder that her talk of bisexuality isn't just for interviews.
That last song, "L8R", ends with in-studio banter about slang-term du jour "ratchet," a phrase that for many people might be destined for association with Banks-- once she decides who and what she wants to be. With her debut album, tentatively titled Broke With Expensive Taste, still slated for this fall, that moment of truth is coming soon. Maybe "Bambi", a trance-inducing track overseen by Adele producer Paul Epworth that premiered early this year at a fashion show in Paris, will finally get an official release on the LP.
In the meantime, the best and penultimate cut on Fantasea, "Esta Noche", points in a promising new direction: conversational, cheater-luring pickup lines over a warmly inviting sample from Montell Jordan's 1999 R&B hit "Get It on Tonite", interjected with screeching nu-rave paroxysms courtesy of Dutch producer Munchi. The comparisons to Minaj, whose own recent singles tend to break out in strobe-lit beach-rave sections, might persist. But that wouldn't be such a bad thing. "Head of the class/ But I got principles, too," Banks purrs.
The biggest surprise from the rapper who made "cunt" safe for the New York Times' Style section might be if she discovers a square, sensitive side. Still, I wouldn't bet on it. "I've been out for three years," she told the paper in February, reassuring those who fear her rise to fame has been too fast. "I've been around." Or whatever the fuck that means. This much has been officially confirmed by scientists since Banks' previous EP: Mermaids don't exist. The seapunks were right.
