Meet Feng, Croydon’s marmite underground rapper who’s currently experiencing a dizzying ascent. Instead of rapping about his time in bandos or the pen (or at the very least, lying about it), 19-year-old Travas Feneley’s claim to fame is that “in primary school, I was the fastest”. Feng’s unpretentious persona is strangely subversive, and combined with his digestible pop rap, you can see how he’s become easy to root for.
But there’s something else Feng offers over other UK rappers experiencing a similar trajectory. Unlike the elusive Fakemink or ballied-up EsDeeKid, Feng is approachable. He wants to invite listeners into the party, especially on his debut album ‘Weekend Rockstar’, which narrates Feng’s hedonistic lifestyle in Los Angeles.
Songs like ‘Cali Crazy’ and ‘Superstar’ showcase Feng’s scene-setting skills; nude girls swarm his bedroom while guests cannonball from roof to pool, snorting drugs in obscene quantities. Feng is quick to acknowledge how displaced he feels in LA, drawling on the album’s opener: “I need to get away, this place just like GTA”. But Feng doesn’t expand beyond these initial observations – like his new home, the music rings hollow.
At least Feng isn’t afraid to take some genuine sonic risks. On ‘Weekend Rockstar’, he blends his cloud rap origins into his love for indie. The self-soothing ‘Firework’ takes its cues from Owl City’s nocturnal indietronica, while ‘F’d Up’ is a few shades away from Santigold’s trippy pop. In fact, Feng’s refined his vision so much that his breakout hit ‘XOXO’ and its Foster The People sample sounds outdated.
Unfortunately, Feng’s production isn’t enough to make up for his lacklustre lyricism across the record – all delivered in the same monotonous drone. A sample of sins committed include lazy similes (“She was like the Barbie to me and I was a Ken”), puny brags (“I’m cold, even when I’m in the summer”) and profundity as deep as a puddle (“Like the river Nile, it’s a long way out”).
Feng’s well-meaning mission to spread love metastasizes into several tone-deaf moments. No one expects Feng to write the next feminist manifesto, but surely he could do better than comparing a girl coping with her traumatic past to “a girl, but like a dude”? Then there’s Feng’s clumsy attempt to unite the world on closer ‘Wasted Youth’, where cities invited to party include London, New York, Tokyo, and, erm… Palestine? “We’re born to die, so why we wasting time? / We can make bad decisions and we’ll be alright,” Feng chants.
Undoubtedly, Feng’s got an artistic vision that sets him apart from the pack. The album is recorded, written, and mixed by Feng alone, released through his own label, and produced mostly by himself and close collaborator Bilal Hamdi. Feng’s got what it takes, but ‘Weekend Rockstar’ is let down by his own standards, which appear to amount to nothing more than being told “this shit slaps”.
