Since the days when Doughboyz Cashout were the hottest names in Detroit rap, the city’s cold and direct drug-dealing chronicles have owed a lot to Atlanta trap forefather Jeezy. These days his influence is everywhere: The way Peezy rattles through tales so economically. How BandGang Lonnie Bands and Masoe convey menace and moral stakes at the same time. How Los and Nutty’s lyrics are descriptive enough to script a seedy crime drama on Tubi. Similarly, Talibando—one of the young guns of a loose collective of Detroit rappers that also includes Babyface Ray and Veeze—has a patient and pragmatic edge to his rhymes that screams Jeezy. His newest mixtape, War Lord, may not be as emotionally complex, but gels because of his sharp ear for beats and cold-eyed intensity.
The catalyst of War Lord is the production: skittish and ominous instrumentals that pull as much from late-’90s New Orleans and mid-aughts trap as Michigan heritage. On opener “Birds Talking,” Flee and Finn’s laser-beam beat sounds like one of the Cash Money homages you could find on Real Boston Richey’s Public Housing, but at nearly half the speed. “Still scorching, 400 Degreez, just like Juvie,” Talibando raps, acknowledging the reference point. Later, producer 2 Side’s bassline on “Chitlins” is chilly enough to suggest there’s a slasher around the corner, and Talibando’s unusually uptempo delivery carries shades of Detroit rapper Damedot’s mafioso sensibilities. The few brighter beats don’t kill the spirit, but they feel out of place, like when Talibando is nearly drowned out by the jolly soul sample on “The Way It Goes.” The Babyface Ray-assisted “Swim Team” is an exception thanks to two verses packed with fun details: Ray cites The Irishman (“My boy paint houses just like Jimmy”) and Talibando competes to be the fastest bill-thrower at the strip club.
I do wish Talibando had more standout individual lines. It’s not always evident, because War Lord runs on vibe rather than writerly ability, but some tracks call for the chops. “Deja Vu” features the kind of brooding, piano-led beat that Icewear Vezzo always makes work because he’s the colorful lyricist that Talibando isn’t. Sandwiched between Veeze’s wisecracking wisdom and Lucki’s attention to detail on “Millions,” Talibando fades into the background. His lyrics hold together better when there’s a narrative. Even when the plots are half-baked, he moves them along fast enough to stay exciting: “I think the feds doin’ a stakeout, it’s time to move everything/We need to switch up the safehouse,” he raps on “Steakout.”
But what War Lord is missing in intricacy, the tape makes up in atmosphere. While they’re in your earbuds, Talibando’s hard-nosed kingpin raps will make you want to thump your chest. If your idea of feeling good is riding around in a Jeep with roof off like Nino Brown in New Jack City, or cackling on the sidelines of a high school basketball game like Birdie in Above the Rim, then this is feel-good music. Talibando is not Jeezy but he’s internalized an essential part of his approach: Rap as a mood piece.
