Review Summary: Well thank God for the shooter, and thank God for the leader, and think hard for a message.
Contradictions are everywhere in music. It’s one of the greatest techniques for fully
understanding the message of an artist. On Drake’s LP
Take Care we saw a person who claimed to have every want in the world, but still ended up with nothing. It’s the idea that maybe the biggest thing holding him back was himself; that the wants simply didn’t coincide with the main need. And even though he had full understanding of what the problem was, he still couldn’t stop from indulging. Isaiah Rashad’s
Cilvia Demo bathes in the concept of contradictions to put the listener in a first person view of the artist’s conflictions. Behind the excellent drugged production style that fancies itself with dream-like synths and airy hypnotizing piano loops is the voice of Isaiah Rashad. A voice that would just as likely to be heard talking about living for the money and weed as it would talking introspectively about the habitual lifestyle that drugs and violence cause. The album fluctuates so frequently between what Rashad wants to do, and what he needs to do seemingly with every song. And with every new line saying, “Baby, can you sucky on my dick? I know it's big enough” we hear something like, “I just hope she praying when she down on her knees/ You see I often treat these hoes like their fathers would be/ Good Lord, my flaws.” Perhaps it’s the idea that Isaiah Rashad is increasingly self-aware of his flaws that makes
Cilvia Demo something more than just another venture into the hard-knock life of a kid without a father. It doesn't showcase aggression and blame; its points the finger squarely at itself. Rashad doesn't try to put his ego on a higher pedestal; rather he puts himself eye-to-eye with a mirror and crafts an EP so relatable that its idea is something sorely missing in much of hip-hop. It feels human.
I smoke too much, the problems of a 20 something
I drink too often, there's liquor pouring from the faucet
You would assume by following the tunes
And I’m doomed to die young, addicted to dry plum
These bitches ain't *** and pussy is my greatest vice
I love smoking weed, I hate advice
I know some niggas that talk good
The wise men from a long line of bitch made and bridesmen
You never had nothing but ***ing dreams
You just caught up in the hype
The fashion so it seems
