Each week, we add new music, older tracks, which are known as “Gold adds”, and tracks that might not fit our general format, but still deserve a place in rotation because they serve our mission of showing the depth, breadth, and influence of Black musical expression - These are known as “Variety adds.”

We’re sharing this to get you excited to listen and to open up the floor for feedback and suggestions. If you want to request a song, 

. If you make music and want it considered for rotation, 

 If you want to give feedback directly, reach out to me at jgreen@mpr.org.

Tune in to hear Sani live on The Message from 10 AM to 1 PM Monday through Thursday!

Keep all these tracks in one place with the 

 Spotify playlist. This playlist is updated weekly with all the new adds. When that playlist is cycled with new tracks, the tracks live forever on the 

 playlist. That playlist contains all of the music that we've added since the week of July 11 in chronological order of when it was added. All of the tracks available on Spotify, at least.

Robert Glasper - “Therapy pt. 2” feat. Mac Miller

6LACK - “Pretty Little Fears” Feat. J. Cole

H.E.R. - “Could've Been” feat. Bryson Tiller

“LUNE SONG (from the other side of things)”

“Thrifted Palmeiras Jersey (Bonus Track Ibrhhh Begged Me To Drop)”

Julian Green built and manages the music library for Carbon Sound and oversees content creation.  


Julian Green

All of the tracks added to rotation on Carbon Sound the week of October 17, 2022.


Natalia Toledo

New on Carbon Sound

Old on Carbon Sound

New Music on Carbon Sound - Week of October 17, 2022

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Awa Mally

Check out Awa Mally’s photos of Lancey Foux and Joony at the Amsterdam Bar & Hall.


Lancey Foux stomps the Amsterdam Bar & Hall

The Heat Check playlist is your source for new music from around the worlds of hip-hop and R&B with an emphasis on bubbling, undiscovered and under-the-radar acts. Who's got the hot hand? Who's on a run? It's a menagerie of notable songs curated by enthusiasts from around NPR Music.

This week's Heat Check selects feature artists from as far out as Rwanda, but if there is anything resembling a theme it is songs of self-reliance. An R&B newbie enlists a legend for a vintage ballad of acceptance, a spaced-out rapper decides to go it alone, artists from Compton, London and Nigeria refuse complacency and more. Check in.

Though acceptance doesn't mean we no longer feel the pain of heartbreak and loss, it does mean that we are no longer resistant to our reality. On "So Be It," the opening track of Alex Vaughn's newest EP 

, the LVRN artist finds herself in this place, processing the end of a relationship with a classic R&B ballad. Produced by the prolific Rodney "Darkchild" Jerkins — whose credits include Brandy, Toni Braxton and Beyoncé — alongside Xeryus, the track starts off vulnerable with melancholic guitar arpeggios and a laid-back drum groove before it crescendos through the choruses, complemented by thick choral-like background vocals. In the last verse, Vaughn's singing reaches a climax as she settles into the acceptance needed to confront the truth and move forward: "In my heart I still want to forgive / Came to terms that we might never get / Back to what we used to be / Everything's still new to me / Won't be no love lost / So be it." — Ashley Pointer

Since 2020, the Atlanta rapper UnoTheActivist has upped the productivity, releasing a dozen albums of spaced-out melodic trap that seems to continuously get stranger (See: "Astral Plane"). He has been on the same wavelength as his cousin, Playboi Carti, since the Christmas release of 

 in 2020, but Uno is a step beyond the league of outside imitators, warping the dimensions of his already dark and zonked music to be even more lively. The 

 standout, "By Myself," is among the most interesting things he has ever released. Its overlaid synths sound like an AR headset overloading. But there is order within the chaos. Listen closely and you can hear a meticulous array of digital tones. Somehow, in the midst of it all, his voice stays steady and centered, like a storm chaser resolute amid a maelstrom. — Sheldon Pearce

The charms of benihxnx's "lightz" are wrapped up in its sample, Timbaland's "Give It To Me," and the way the song milks its components for tempo. The best club rap often creates the same slingshot effect that comes from the chops in regular club music, only there must be enough open space for the rapper to maneuver. In this case, benihxnx seemingly plays hop scotch between the deeply distorted Nelly Furtado hook. It's less about what he's saying and more about how he's keeping time, the way his flows and the bass create friction, making the sample feel like a reverberation. — Sheldon Pearce

These soundwaves feel more like a mist, SoundCloud chant rap vaporized and diffused through your headspace. "Polaroid Picture" is Lerado Khalil's recent masterclass in mood-setting, finding the sublime in a mess of classic plugg synths and barely-audible vocals. — Mano Sundaresan

A lot of lowercase music channels the hushed insularity and shyness of bedroom recordings, but the Bay Area singer thuy's "u should feel special," the opener from her new project, 

, embodies the subtle assertiveness displayed throughout Ariana Grande's 

. thuy's voice can be similarly mumbly but there is an effervescence there, too, and her songs are usually imbued with the buoyancy associated with the local rap scenes. Here, she uses that gentle force to remind a guy how lucky he is to be with her: "You need a medal / 'Cause you went and score way out your league / It's amazing how you weren't even a thought / Now you're laying here with me." Though she doesn't possess Ari's range, she does a more than passable job replicating the self-assured sass of her more recent music. — Sheldon Pearce

There is a strain of SoundCloud rap that sounds like it's trying to deep fake the late JuiceWRLD and another strain that sounds like it's trying to turn Auto-Tune into vapor. "Love & Live On," by Sincerely Vlxne!, blends the two styles together. It has the same freestyle energy and curdling emo vocals but it is mostly performed as a murmur.  At 1:20, the entire thing seems designed for ephemerality, a puff of smoke disappearing before you. But in that moment before it vanishes it can be pleasantly disorienting. — Sheldon Pearce

Jeshi, "Protein v2" (ft. Obongjayar, Westside Boogie)

With a fresh verse and new feature from the Compton mainstay Westside Boogie, the London rapper Jeshi manages to elevate the already infectious track "Protein" with a second take. The foundation was, of course, already set with the Nigerian singer Obongjayar's effortless vocals adding an undeniable layer of cool: "Can't nobody stop me, I'm on go / Late night creepin' , I'm running on no sleep ... Baby, I'm active, can't move slow / There's no plan B, can't do both." For anyone seeking a subtle yet catchy song to put a battery in their back, this is it. The song feels like a clash of coasts in the best way, as all parties involved envision reaping the benefits of their respective come-ups. — Jerusalem Truth


The Rwandese singer-songwriter Alyn Sano has become a figurehead in the East African pop movement, receiving the nation's Female Artist of the Year award, in 2020, and reaching the semifinals of the African iteration of "The Voice." Her early singles from 2018 — "Naremewe Wowe" and "Rwiyoborere" — tried to recreate the softness of stateside R&B but were undermined by two-bit production. Even chintzy balladry could not mask the beauty of her voice, which has rich, earthy undertones, but her music on the whole lacked animation and magnetism. Last year's "Hono" was a move toward bounce that gave her sound a certain dynamism, and her new single, "Radiyo," builds on that momentum. Embodying the Afrobeats of her neighbors to the west, Sano lets her sumptuous, low-toned harmonies sweep through the clicking drums on her best song yet. — Sheldon Pearce


Sheldon Pearce

Ashley Pointer

Mano Sundaresan

Jerusalem Truth

This week's Heat Check selects feature an R&B newbie enlisting a legend, a spaced-out rapper deciding to go it alone, artists from Compton, London and Nigeria refusing complacency and more.


LVRN/Interscope

Alex Vaughn - So Be It [Official Music Video]

BY MYSELF - UNOTHEACTIVIST (OFFICIAL AUDIO)

lightz by benihxnx

POLAROID +NOFOURFIVE+ by Lerado Khalil

thuy - u should feel special (audio)

Jeshi - Protein v2 feat. Obongjayar, Westside Boogie (Visualiser)

Alyn Sano - Radiyo (Official Music Video)

Heat Check Roundup: Alex Vaughn, UnoTheActivist, Jeshi and more

Lizzo missed the Twin Cities and it’s clear the feeling was mutual. At the beginning of her first Twin Cities arena show, Lizzo gave one of many speeches about her affinity for Minneapolis-St. Paul. She recalls this as the place where she received valuable support (“Shout out to The Current”) and is eternally grateful for it.

Personally, I haven’t seen Lizzo live since New Year’s 2018 at Myth in Maplewood. The venue only held 3,000 people which is a fraction of the Xcel’s 17,000. The winter cold was especially bitter that night, but Lizzo’s performance made up for it. Seeing her rise since “Good as Hell” and “Truth Hurts” came out — they were relatively new at the time of her Myth performance — has been incredible to witness.

Starting at precisely “bad bitch o'clock” Lizzo spent two hours filling the Xcel Energy Center with serotonin-inducing songs without missing a beat. She was supported on stage by a crew of Black women which included her long-time DJ, Sophia Eris, her Lizzbians band, and her dancers, the Big Grrrls. (Asia Banks, a participant from Lizzo’s Emmy award-winning Prime program, 

, was also present on stage showing there are real benefits to competing on her reality show.) Bringing new and old together, she performed a rendition of her 2022 single “Grrrls” and 2016’s “Phone,” from her 2016 

 EP — same release that introduced “Good As Hell.”

Sporting a sparkly pink Yitty hat that we can only hope will soon become available online, Lizzo transitioned into “Boys.” Lizzo had the whole arena bouncing up and down while singing along. This was one of many clear crowd favorites. The track not only sounds like it has Minnesota’s beloved Prince’s influence, but its music video also honors the late legend by taking place in front of the iconic 

. (Prince was photographed there in 1977.)

The Lizzbians then took the reins and geared up the crowd for “Tempo” with a electrifying solo from their 19-year-old guitarist, whom DJ Sophia Eris affectionately called “the baby girl on the team.” Accompanied by background visuals reminiscent of Rihanna’s “Bitch Better Have My Money” era, Lizzo and her dancers twerked to the club track.

To cue up “Rumors,” the jumbotron began showing text messages. “Lizzo and Chris Evans are dating!?” “Lizzo is engaged!!” “What’s next, a baby?” The visual was evocative of Demi Lovato’s infamous “Sorry Not Sorry” performance at the 2017 American Music Awards. Cardi B made a surprise appearance “ringing” in via pre-recorded FaceTime call to deliver her verse in “Rumors.” The video worked so seamlessly into the concert, more artists should consider implementing this when performing songs with a featured artist.

For the next song, “Naked,” which she debuted on her Emmy-winning 

, Lizzo got more intimate with the crowd. She strutted down the walkway in a feather boa robe fit for a mansion to get closer to the concertgoers in the standing room. As she got nearer to the audience in GA she disrobed and was 

 naked. (Don’t worry, she was wearing a nude-colored bodysuit, presumably from her brand Yitty.) She bared all to give lyrics to the song new life. The dark arena lit up with phone camera flashes while the stage light beautifully displayed different shapes and colors before finally reading in clear bold letters “My Body My Choice” on Lizzo’s silhouette.

“If you’ve dated a Gemini, you’re entitled to compensation,” says Lizzo from the therapy-style chair she had brought on stage while performing “Jerome.” “Break Up Twice” in meaning is a straightforward song. Lizzo doesn’t break up twice. She does 

 [date] once and does it right. The background of this song, however, is especially intriguing. It was produced by the legendary Mark Ronson, and contains an interpolation of Lauryn Hill’s “Doo Wop (That Thing).” Before hopping off stage for an outfit switch, she and DJ Sophia Eris rapped the first part of the Hill hit, then handed it off to her incredibly on-key background singers.

Finally, Lizzo performed the track that her tour and album are named after, “Special.” In a public declaration of self-love, she had the crowd wave their hands in unison. Lizzo’s encouraging voice saying “I love you. You are beautiful. And you can do anything. In case no one told you today, you are special!” was still ringing in everyone’s ears while she performed. The last few lines being sung a cappella was a goosebumps moment.

In a transition that could’ve either been a bit or completely real, Lizzo spotted a fan on the barricade in a wedding dress. She asked the fan if she recently got married — to which they replied, “I got dumped.” Some members of the audience audibly said “aw,” taking pity on the person. Lizzo, on the other hand, gave the fan a pep talk and reassured them, “I got just the song for you” before singing “Truth Hurts.” While performing, she made sure to sing some lines directly to the heartbroken fan. After the song ended, she took a few minutes to acknowledge the crowd. She showed off her 20/20 vision by specifically pointing out what people were wearing, even if they were in nose bleeds. A concert attendee dressed in a “fuck fatphobia” crop top and sheer leggings drew special attention.

At one point Lizzo restated a point she made in her recent 

 when the writer asked about criticism that she makes music catering to white audiences. “My name is Lizzo,” she said. “I’m a Black woman, making music from my Black experience. And I make music for every-fucking-body. Period. Because I know when you see me on this stage, you see yourself as well. I’ve lived enough life at this point to know we all go through our own individual struggles and it may not look the same, but it is the struggle nonetheless. And if you’ve gone through the last two years like I’ve gone through you’re a survivor. Period.”

While crying a little bit, she had the crowd sing back the words to “I Love You Bitch” to her. “I never thought a song called ‘I Love You Bitch’ would make me so emotional.” She continued with “Good As Hell” and “Juice” before ending with “About Damn Time” for an encore. Performing those upbeat songs had the audience forgetting it was the end of the concert. Many did not start leaving their seat until a video of Lizzo on the jumbotron exclaiming her iconic line, “bye bitch!”

Bora ⠀

Lizzo spent two hours performing serotonin-inducing songs to a packed St. Paul audience without missing a beat.


Lizzo stands smiling on stage with one arm pointing up 

Tony Nelson for MPR

Seven people in pink outfits stand on stage with one arm up 

A wide view of some crowd members, the full stage set-up, and performers 

Lizzo brings joy to the Xcel Energy Center

Carbon Sound correspondent Sabrina Ford pulled out her camera at Concurrent and Reload.it's SPUN OUT event - A DJ battle that took place at Jughouse in Minneapolis on Saturday, September 24. The real winner was the audience, who got to hear great music all night long. 

But seriously, though, the real winner was Team Concurrent.

Subscribe to YouTube channel for more videos

Sabrina Ford

Watch Sabrina Ford’s video recap of Concurrent and Reload.it’s SPUN OUT DJ Battle.


SPUN OUT DJ Battle Recap - 3 vs. 3 DJ Competition in Minneapolis

This is a huge week for adds! A few tracks finally made it through the clean edit pipeline, we've added some cool live renditions of tracks thanks to Sani's suggestions, and there was also just a lot of great new music ("I took the wooooooooocccckkkkk... To Polaaaaaaanddddddddd").  Tune in to hear Sani live on The Message from 10 AM to 1 PM Monday through Thursday!

“The Light” feat. Erykah Badu & Bilal (Live)

“How's It Goin' Down” feat. Faith Evans

“Ayo Technology” feat. Justin Timberlake

All of the tracks added to rotation on Carbon Sound the week of October 10, 2022.


New Music on Carbon Sound - Week of October 10, 2022

Think back to the opening of the 2021 film version of the musical 

. The very first thing we see is acres of rubble, and a sign: "This property purchased by the New York Housing Authority for slum clearance."

That's an allusion to a real neighborhood that was destroyed to make way for Lincoln Center. In the 1950s, San Juan Hill was mostly a community of Black and Puerto Rican residents. Their story — and even the name of their neighborhood — has been mostly scrubbed from history. Now, a new piece of music being premiered by the 

Long before Lincoln Center existed, San Juan Hill was a nexus for African American and Caribbean culture. It nurtured many jazz greats, who lived and played there — including alto saxophonist Benny Carter, who grew up in the neighborhood, and pianist Herbie Nichols, who was born there to parents from St. Kitts and Trinidad. Duke Ellington and cornet player Rex Stewart even co-wrote a tune named 

, where dance halls and jazz clubs thrived.

But in the 1950s, the powerful urban planner Robert Moses led the effort to have San Juan Hill razed, with the intention of establishing a midtown campus for Fordham University and creating Lincoln Center. He displaced more than 7,000 families as well as some 800 businesses. In a 1977 interview with New York's public television station, WNET, Moses 

When the interviewer asked about San Juan Hill, Moses retorted: "Now I ask you, what was that neighborhood? It was a Puerto Rican slum. You remember it?" No, the host admitted.

"Yeah, well, I lived on one of those streets there for a number of years, and I know exactly what it was like," Moses responded. (There is no record of Moses residing in this neighborhood, according to Robert Caro's magisterial biography of Moses, 

"It was the worst slum in New York," Moses insisted in the television interview. "You want to leave it there? Why? Out of account of neighborhood business? Christ, you never could have been there. That was the worst slum in New York," he bellowed, clapping his hands for emphasis. "And we cleared it out."

 is the director of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies at Hunter College. She says Robert Moses intentionally used highly charged language about San Juan Hill.

"Robert Moses in particular," Bonilla says, "He used a lot of kind of medical language talking about the slums as these cancers that had to be eradicated and cleaned up, almost as if it was a disease that could spread." 

60 years after Lincoln Center's opening and a $550 million renovation later, the New York Philharmonic's home at Lincoln Center, David Geffen Hall, is reopening this weekend. Lincoln Center is taking this opportunity to readdress the narrative of its founding.

 — a composer, trumpet player, percussionist and Guggenheim fellow — to think deeply about that complicated past, and create a piece of music that would acknowledge that hidden history. So Etienne Charles created a new work for the Philharmonic and his band, Creole Soul called 

Charles is originally from Trinidad. He had never heard of San Juan Hill until he moved to New York to study for a master's degree at Juilliard, which is part of the Lincoln Center campus.

Charles eventually realized, however, that the razed neighborhood had significant Caribbean connections — and to jazz. Initially, Charles learned that pianist Herbie Nichols (whose roots were also in Trinidad) was from San Juan Hill. Not long after, the Jamaican pianist Monty Alexander told Charles that composer and pianist Thelonious Monk had also grown up in San Juan Hill. 

"Monty Alexander came to my house," Charles recounts, "And we were working on some music for his concert. He started playing Monk's music and he's like, 'You realize Monk's music has a Caribbean bounce, right?' And I said, 'I never thought about it.' He started playing 

 — 'Boom, boom, boom, boom, ba-doo-boo, boom, boom, boom, boom, ba doo,'" Charles says, enunciating the Monk tune's rhythm. "Monk heard Caribbean music in San Jan Hill all around him."

Charles notes that once Lincoln Center opened in 1962, even its physical campus felt literally exclusive to some. The institution's general shape, he says, is of the letter C, with a large plaza and impressive fountain facing Broadway. "And the C has its back to the neighborhood," he adds — an area that includes the Amsterdam Houses, a public housing project immediately behind Lincoln Center. "You can make huge statements with architecture," the musician observes. "It's body language with bricks."

Charles recalls an interview that he and one of his 

collaborators, photographer Hollis King, did for this project. "Hollis asked somebody who still lives in the neighborhood, 'What was your most memorable musical event in the neighborhood?'"

"And he said," Charles continues, "My most memorable musical event was when Tito Puente played.' And then he added, 'But it wasn't in the neighborhood. It was at Lincoln Center.'" Charles pauses to let that exchange sink in. "There's sometimes that moment when somebody tells you what you 

Charles' meditation on San Juan Hill will be the very first piece of music to be heard in the newly renovated David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center. It's also the first time that Lincoln Center has ever commissioned music for the New York Philharmonic. Charles worked with a number of creative multi-discipline collaborators to make San Juan Hill come alive.

Shanta Thake is the chief artistic officer at Lincoln Center. She says commissioning Charles to write such a piece was a crucial moment of reckoning for the institution.

"What an example, what a moment that would be, to open David Geffen Hall with this commission, with this story, and really confront our past head-on as we move into the future," Thake says. "Not kind of blank slate everything, but really make things more complicated for ourselves — and I think in a way actually allow us to make space for what's next."

Thake continues, "I think the cultural sector has even more of a responsibility to hold our histories and not to plaster over them. It matters whose stories we have historically told. It certainly matters that we tell our own story fully, and with all the complexity and the mistakes that we made. That's okay."

In his musical portrait of San Juan Hill, Etienne Charles wanted to move through many dimensions — chronological, stylistic, and demographic, from 

shipyard workers to recently arrived European communities, as well as historical moments and figures in the neighborhood. 

"This piece is about showing the magic of the culture that was created when these people came together here," Charles says. "Gullah dance here, 

 rhythm there, Antillean waltz here, Sicilian folk chant there, Irish drunk song there — all of these different pieces together mixed up, the blues from the South. It created a vibe that fed not just American culture, but influenced everything that would happen and come out of New York for the next 50 years."

Charles' piece references lots of music made and heard in the neighborhood — including the Charleston dance. Although it's named after the South Carolina city, it was actually born right in San Juan Hill, thanks to composer and pianist James P. Johnson, who had grown up partly in the neighborhood and later frequently played at one of its clubs.

"Then from the Charleston, we get to the serious part," Charles explains, "Which is urban removal, with the 10 years from 1949 to 1959 when it went from the 

 to the groundbreaking of Lincoln Center. And then the last part is a piece called House Rent Party, where was you know, we could all come together."

Tickets for this world premiere are priced as pay-what-you-want, starting at $5 per seat, with some free tickets available the day of the performance — another way of making Lincoln Center a truly welcoming space for all New Yorkers.

Anastasia Tsioulcas

In New York City, the area dominated by Lincoln Center was formerly home to Black and Puerto Rican communities. Etienne Charles' new musical work addresses that difficult past.


Lawrence Sumulong/Courtesy of Lincoln Center

Michael Moran/Courtesy of Lincoln Center

Revisiting San Juan Hill, the neighborhood destroyed to make way for Lincoln Center

The Heat Check playlist is your source for new music from around the worlds of hip-hop and R&B with an emphasis on bubbling, undiscovered, and under-the-radar acts. Who's got the hot hand? Who's on a run? It's a menagerie of notable songs curated by enthusiasts from around NPR Music.

This week's Heat Check selects come largely from iconoclasts who have already zeroed in on their individual aesthetics: a singsong rap soulman, an alté sensation, a noise-rap radical, a Memphis outlier, and a bidirectional pop-rap multi-hyphenate. Elsewhere we get songs with signature sounds: drill merengue, rap regalia, synth-R&B as dance music, Auto-Tuned cyber-vibrato  and more. Check in.

We're on the eve of cuffing season and yet Smino's "90 Proof" with J. Cole tries squeezing in a f**kboy fall before it's too late. The chorus is a tipsy plea to his lover performed in a half rap, half croon imbued with a vulnerability one can only express after a strong drink: "Not too great at relationships, at least I try / Patient, baby, gotta make a couple rounds / 'Fore I make it back to you to settle down." With production from Monte Booker and Groove — the latter having crafted a similar vibe on Isaiah Rashad's "Claymore," another cut in which Smi thinks he might have found the one — the beat has that playful soft knock he gravitates toward, one that's quite the temptation for a fall drive. J. Cole is a welcome mentor, playing the friend who's down to go out with you but constantly mentioning their partner at home the entire night. 

 for Smi to lock down his album the same way his interest on "90 Proof" wants him to define the relationship, and here he makes his intention very clear: he's gonna come through. — Gabby Bulgarelli

Once you've enjoyed a breakout moment in music, there's really only one thing that can move you from "one-hit wonder" to confidently being co-signed as "next up": consistency. Nigeria's Ayra Starr is very much at the tipping point. Compared to her award-winning 2021 single, "Bloody Samaritan," which builds off the hunger of haunting strings and affirmations, Starr's latest, "Rush," rides a wave of mid-tempo triumph with a message of maintaining your blessings once you've received them. — Sidney Madden

The Philly rapper Ghais Guevara's appeal is summed up in the caption on his Bandcamp page: "im the reason your 14 year old won't shut up about Malcolm X." He's a militant progressive as likely to reference scholar bell hooks as the Terminator rebel Sarah Connor. "#FREEMIR," the opener from his latest project, 

, channels noise rap in pursuit of a sound that can't be ignored. With your attention, he makes his messages plain: "You might've rallied to tell us to vote / But you never would throw you a stone / Talkin' bout peace when police got the dogs and the guns and the shields and the hose," he raps, before accepting the limits of his position, "Tongue of a poet but when has the words of a man ever threaten the throne?" — Sheldon Pearce

Here's how I imagine the making of "Poland" went:

LIL YACHTY: "I TOOK THE WOOOOOOOOCK TO POLAND!"

LIL YACHTY: "Nah trust me ... OK, now make me sound like I'm a robot singing into a fan."

RANDOM GUY IN STUDIO: "I'm leaking this."

Whether it's Michigan rap or sample drill, Yachty is constantly looking for new sounds to fold into his world. But the cyber-vibrato on "Poland" reminds me of the goofier Sailing Team days when he was emerging in the wake of Makonnen, KEY and other Atlanta rap mavericks — a singer that couldn't really sing but had enough charisma and Auto-Tune to pull it off. The song hinges on its insane hook. The verse is kind of forgettable. But that's all it has taken for fans to eat this thing up. Yachty is probably channeling Duwap Kaine, too, a 20-year-old from Savannah, GA who's quietly influenced a generation of internet rap crooners by 

Connie Diiamond, "Toot That (Nene Bomba)" [Remix] (ft. MorenoITF) 

If Ice Spice raised the flag for the Bronx with "Munch," fellow BX native Connie Diiamond is running with the torch on her latest, a remix to "Toot That." A wonderful fusion of drill and merengue, Connie slides over the beat, gassing herself and leaving men in the dust: "I'm vibey, none of you n****s excite me / I gave him the pum / Now I gotta zoom." The track samples Vitico's infectious 1999 merengue jam "Pum, Pum, Pum El Nene Bomba," an homage to Connie's heritage and upbringing. She reps her set throughout the song and video, with the help of fellow AfroLatino rapper MorenoITF. — Jerusalem Truth

Not to be confused with Megan Thee Stallion's Grammy-winning track, Gia Mayham's version of "Savage" is delivered with more of a snarl than a wink. Gia (a.k.a. Rollie Pollie Snack Mealz) puts her foot on the gas with a sped-up sample of Webbie's "Give Me That" and fires off a barrage of warning shots at the "salt and pepper hoes" that aren't even worthy of her legacy. — Sidney Madden

Memphis is a beloved (and underrated) rap city, and while Lukah may feel like an outlier to its regional sound, he has quietly been adding to its rich legacy. After giving crunk music a try, the rapper was drawn to a more matter-of-fact, bars-first approach. "Presence of Color," from his most recent album, 

, is evidence of his evolution into an observer rapper and a philosophical thinker: on its first verse, which strings together various subjects of study (criminology, physiology, cosmology), he keeps expanding the scope through which he considers his surroundings. — Sheldon Pearce

As New York-based duo ATELLER & Tan Brown work through one of their latest collabs, changing the rules of engagement rarely goes smoothly. Enveloped by synth claps and bass, Brown tries to decide if she should weather the storm of missed calls and mind games or just abandon ship: "I have a million reasons why I'd like to see what's left to find / Am I waiting for a recall 'cause I let you come back every time." Brown's ambivalence lingers with each note, and soon all reason fades away into the rhythm. — Sidney Madden

His viral song "556 (Green Tip)" might bounce around like an elvish jig, but iayze is really in his bag when he's rapping over these dense layers of strings and synths, arranged throughout his latest EP, 

, by Massachusetts artist Devstacks. Full of enchanted rapping, complex buildups and jittery arpeggios, the music, dubbed "regalia," is like a classically trained musician's take on Chief Keef — or a Glo Gang disciple's attempt at writing a concerto. The closing track "Barbados" makes the simplest desires sound magnificent. — Mano Sundaresan

It's easy to hear the influence of one Nicki Minaj running through the music of TiaCorine, a Winston-Salem rapper balancing both punchy and graceful tendencies. She is seeking a similar duality to the Barb Queen, but her rapping is more dispassionate, with flows that seem to drag along beats, and in her gestures toward pop, her Auto-Tuned singing verges on ethereal. She is most captivating when forcing her way through noisy production, as she does on the ballistic cut "Rocket," from her new project, 

. After a dazed hook, the song unloads into a barrage of rapid-fire bars. "Yeah, I got a glock but you know that I'm boxing," she raps. There's something almost lackadaisical about her delivery, even at her most aggressive, which makes it feel like she's making these songs casually for her own amusement. — Sheldon Pearce   

Sidney Madden

Gabby Bulgarelli

This week's Heat Check selects come largely from iconoclasts who have already zeroed in on their individual aesthetics: a singsong rap soulman, an alté sensation, a noise-rap radical and more


Vivien Killilea/Getty Images for Interscope

Smino - 90 Proof ft. J Cole (Official Visualizer)

Ayra Starr - Rush (Official Music Video)

#FREEMIR

Connie Diiamond - Toot That (Nene Bomba) [Remix] Feat. MorenoITF

Savage

Good for Me

TiaCorine - Rocket (Official Audio)

Heat Check Roundup: Smino, Ayra Starr, Ghais Guevara and more

Jacob Aloi

The McKnight Foundation honored Ewart’s years of community engagement and artistry with this year’s Distinguished Artist Award, which carries with it a $100,000 prize. He’s known for his support of young artists in Minneapolis.


Innovative Minnesota musician Douglas Ewart wins recognition for transforming work

Kerem Yücel | MPR News

Open Mike Eagle has always been attuned to underground hip-hop's bigger picture, in ways that show how often he's had to keep on his toes. It's not just borne out in his off-the-cuff facility with language, though his sharp-thinking, moving-target adaptability means he's every bit as perceptive a dot-connector in his side gigs as a podcast host and interviewer — check for the hip-hop history Q&A sessions on 

— as he is drawing off impulse-driven battle-rap improvisation. His creative spark, largely inspired by the lyrically minded, community-building approach of Los Angeles collective Project Blowed, shone so bright he even found himself 

 to attempt to find out just how the brain actually works during freestyle rap sessions. And even if calling his 2010 breakthrough album 

left him open to outside confusion about what that genre signifier actually meant, it also made that descriptor feel open-ended, accommodating Eagle's boundless perspective — which, while heavy on a referential depth that would rival the '90s 

writers room, also snuck through more than a trace of confessional directness. For much of his 2010s output, he'd get personal in a way that didn't overshare, but still felt pulled from a place where 

was a good way to establish a horizon-scanning point of view.

, the L.A.-via-Chicago rapper's more direct turn towards frank and upfront discussions of his own personal struggles and stresses felt like a cathartic culmination. Eagle is always working out the internal contradictions and external impositions that come with being an independent hip-hop artist, benefiting from a perceptively sardonic touch that can hide both barbed social commentary and worried self-reckonings inside an affable if often skeptical sense of humor. That's been increasingly reinforced in his best work, especially 2016's social anxiety-steeped 

and the project-housing community hauntology of 2017's Robert Taylor Homes-raised 

. Both displayed Eagle's finely attuned sense of how he saw himself, the community that raised him and the creative fields he became a part of — and, more often than not, attempted to confront the flaws and struggles in those experiences with the clarity of someone who needs to feel less alone in having them.

laid that all out on the line. The end of his marriage and a series of creative setbacks — particularly the dissolution of his Hellfyre Club group and the cancellation of his scalpel-sharp comedy series with Baron Vaughn, 

 — left him feeling adrift in an existential crisis, and reaching for 

-style power fantasies just to get his bearings back. And then the album had to go and hit right as an even bigger, more communal crisis was reaching a peak during the COVID-19 pandemic. Eagle recorded "Everything Ends Last Year" and its 

-wrackedrefrain "It's October and I'm tired" in 2019, and when the album dropped, one October later, so was everyone else. In "Peak Lockdown Raps," a deep cut near the end of his new album, 

, he admits with a claustrophobic, crummy-fidelity immediacy that he's "talkin' like the year didn't happen / I feel like I should hear it in the rappin' / Since we all had unkempt beards and weird interactions."

Now, in another October, Eagle's efforts to collect himself after enduring (likely) the strangest album-release cycle of his career has given us an album that's just as personal, but reflectively so. 

is an outward feint towards homesick '90s introspection that a shallower effort would have made seem like a retreat towards those mythical More Innocent Times people tend to turn to in times of crisis. Sometimes it seems like there's an entire nostalgia-industrial complex dedicated to making the '90s feel like a lost idyll, the last truly enjoyable time before everything went to hell, but 

 is a record that makes a case for the past as a continuously changing and evolving presence, not a trapped-in-amber escape route.

Sure, you get multiple nods to the Jordan era (Chicago Bulls centers Bill Cartwright and Luc Longley both get namedrops) and classic video games ("Multi-Game Arcade Cabinet" flips through its myriad yet cohesive guest verses like games in a Neo Geo) and defunct stereo-emporium dreamspaces (both the title of "Circuit City" and the gear-hawking intro to the misleadingly titled "CD Only Bonus Track"). And several beats provided by Diamond D, a producer-rapper and fixture of NYC's Diggin' in the Crates crew, who's the kind of high-tier 

name that certain old heads will find as amazing a get as psych-prog architect Madlib, who produced "Circuit City." Yet none of this communing with the past feels like anything less than a reevaluation.

"With the tapes that I cut up to put samples on the album, a lot of those tapes, there's one of the DJs at WHPK, and he's going on and on about Diamond D," Eagle told me from his LA home during our conversation, with all the amazement of someone who'd been dreaming of such a collaboration for decades. "His music has been a part of my life that long. It was crazy to be able to reach out and access him and him being down to work." But Diamond's beats on 

 treat the boom-bap tropes of '90s hip-hop more as a pivotal early step to future inspiration than a well to run dry. And that's in keeping with the rest of Eagle's favored beatmakers here — Detroit mutant-rap auteur Quelle Chris, indie pop/beathead crossovers Child Actor, and longtime joined-at-the-hip collaborators Kuest 1 and Illingsworth — who've assembled a slate of tracks that sound not just era-agnostic but genre-averse. 

Eagle literally wears one of those titular stereo systems as a sort of headgear on the cover of 

. As the kind of audio equipment prized a generation ago for making recording and dubbing personal mixtapes easily, it can represent both his headspace and a protective armor, rooted in a renewed and continued engagement with the old homemade cassettes of hip-hop programs he recorded off Chicago radio. But the album's less a disillusioned wallowing in a glorious sepia-toned past than a sometimes difficult conversation with the past's actual deterioration, with the more allusive and free-associative sides of Eagle's lyricism puzzling out where all these reminiscent pieces really fit. As he puts it on "79th and Stony Island": "I still got the same worldview / A brain full of old-school rules / And memories like flesh wounds." 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

 really kind of broke through your more allusive tendencies and got right up front about some of the most stressful recent developments in your personal life. This one seems a little more tied into a reminiscent mode, but in ways that sort of feel like you're kind of figuring out 

 your formative influences getting entangled with your current perspective.

Not exactly that, but that's an interesting way to put it. I have definitely been leaning into formative experiences musically, but I'm more looking to it ... almost like a comfort. And that comfort informs my creativity now. It's leaning back for a specific kind of resource that informs what I'm doing now in a way.

So if your previous album was catharsis, this is more a regrouping?

It's certainly an expression of something different, and definitely engaging with the underlying emotions of things in a different way. This way that I'm doing it, on this project, to me, feels more protected. Even while I'm expressing feelings, I've been trying to have the feeling challenge my delivery and the areas I'm writing from, but not necessarily addressing all the underlying feelings overtly. There's a vulnerability that comes to that, [and] for me, it was hard with the last record to deal with the exhaustion of that.

One bit that stood out was in "TDK Scribbled Intro" where you say "yesterday is safer, because you already know what happens. And every album is a little collection of pieces of yesterdays." And that's actually a pretty funny juxtaposition to me, because that's how a lot of sample-based production works — kind of reaching towards an almost nostalgic sense of things you might have heard earlier in your life, but then retrofitting and rebuilding them into something that speaks more contemporaneously.

Yeah, absolutely. The spirit of that is kind of the spirit of hip-hop — repurposing existing material. That's a hip hop idea. And I think in a lot of ways, that's what we all seek to do. But I'm currently repurposing actual tape audio on this album from these cassettes that I still have, and that's part of the spirit of it. 

There's kind of an interesting cross-pollination of contributions on this record. You have Diamond D from DITC doing a few beats, and you have Madlib on "Circuit City." On "Burner Account" with Armand Hammer, Quelle Chris' production almost sounds like he's channeling circa '97 Company Flow. Then there's "For DOOM," which is your tribute to one of the all-time greats of that milieu, and in hip-hop in general. It's kind of a reckoning with a time in hip-hop that seems to be deeply beloved by a big core of people, but also taken for granted in some ways.

The referential artist discusses hip-hop's repurposing spirit, reconciling zonal versions of himself, making sense of rap's "golden era" and his new album, Component System with the Auto Reverse.


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