Florida has proven to be a hotbed of innovative rap talent over the past decade. Born in New York but bred in West Palm Beach, new 300 signee $NOT lyrically embodies the cutthroat ruthlessness of many of the Sunshine State’s rappers, but his new album Beautiful Havoc is a far cry from the overcompressed emo of XXXTentacion or the lo-fi experimentalism of Raider Klan. $NOT’s sound is more amorphous and elusive, perhaps less cutting edge but also harder to pin down.
Beautiful Havoc presents a spectrum of ever-changing moods, reflecting the binary suggested by its title. The tone is mostly relaxed and casually charismatic, anchored by $NOT’s precise and direct delivery, but there’s a creeping negativity on the margins. Lead single “Revenge” is buoyed by a sing-song chorus and melodic bounce, but as the track goes on, $NOT’s flow shifts into something more like a growl, his voice deepening menacingly as he warns us of his propensity for acting out and the “pistol on his waist.”
Like many of his regional peers, $NOT credits Memphis rap as a primary influence, along with the legion of Memphis-influenced cult icons who have emerged online in the last decade, like Xavier Wulf and BONES. But for $NOT the legacy of Memphis manifests more in attitude than actual sound, beyond the Kingpin Skinny Pimp sample that opens Beautiful Havoc on “Watch Out (Intro).” You can hear the South in the frequent moments across the album where the beat pauses and slows to a chopped-and-screwed crawl.
$NOT can be assertive, braggadocious, and brash, but he also demonstrates a soft, even romantic side. His debut full-length, this year’s - TRAGEDY +, was considerably lighter in texture and tone than the work of the rappers he lists as inspirations. It could often be almost delightful, filled with chilled-out guitar lines, cooing backup vocals, and bright synths, though his tongue occasionally slipped into the twisted flow of Three 6 Mafia and their imitators. On Beautiful Havoc, in contrast, a sense of darkness lies just beneath the surface, occasionally giving way to depressive moods. “I don’t wanna talk to nobody ’cause I don’t feel fine,” he raps on the weary “Life”; “I just wanna chill by myself ’cause I’m not OK.” Though $NOT’s sound hardly qualifies as emo rap, there’s often a tumultuous cloud hanging nearby: “Six million ways to die, choose one/And I think livin’ on this Earth is one of ’em.”
$NOT has said in interviews that he struggles to rap over pop beats, but there is an inherent poppiness to Beautiful Havoc’s production and catchy, frequently gentle melodies. $NOT’s music often sounds like a fusion of indie-pop instrumentation (“Demanding” is complete with ukulele and bells) and trap drum patterns. There’s guitar all over the album, but on tracks like “Havoc” and “Who Do I Trust,” the guitar styling is smooth, almost flamenco in feel, as opposed to the punk-inflected sound so common to contemporary rap. His lyrics may be straightforward—full of familiar rap tropes of trust issues, infidelities, and material gain—but the production often borders on the whimsical.
Though the album’s guest appearances can feel like brief cameos, $NOT is confident enough in his own voice not to rely too heavily on any other. On “Mean,” Flo Milli is like a character actor next to $NOT’s smooth leading man. When fellow Floridian Denzel Curry shows up on the flute-driven “Sangria,” it’s like a thunderclap of aggression, a marked contrast to how cool, calm, and collected $NOT comes off.
The Denzel Curry feature illustrates what $NOT shares with his region and how he stands apart. What’s come to define so much contemporary Florida rap is its extremity, emotionality, and intensity. $NOT’s music also contains these qualities, but in a more limited quality; his work is sonically polished and immediately accessible, if not always the most aesthetically distinctive. There’s enough havoc in the world already—$NOT finds time in his music for more elegant things.
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