This magazine was an early champion of Harlem rhymer Azealia Banks. But while our belief that she was the next big thing proved correct, it nonetheless came as a surprise to see just how completely she owned the moment with 2011’s gloriously Tourette-inflected single ‘212’. That song didn’t just introduce Banks to the mainstream – it was a break-out for women in rap music generally, showing they could be as aggressive and profane as any dude.
Alas, Banks thereafter became more famous for her Twitter tirades – including a dropping of the ‘f’ slur and a surreal dissing of Irish celebrity and writer Amanda Brunker – than for her music. Indeed, by the time her debut LP Broke With Expensive Taste finally saw daylight, in late 2014, the world had moved on. It was a fine record – great in places – but ‘212’ already felt like a million years ago. Broke never achieved lift-off.
Banks has since then doubled-down on the tics and tropes that have made her a figure of controversy. Earlier this year, she became one of the few African-Americans of note to endorse – if that is the right word – Donald Trump for President. “I only trust this country to be what it is: full of shit,” she tweeted. “Takes shit to know shit so we may as well, put a piece of shit in the White House... I think Donald trump is evil like America is evil and in order for America to keep up with itself it needs him.”
Yet anyone parsing Bank’s new mixtape – self-released and dropped without warning on a recent Friday – for further political insights will have to look elsewhere. There is no politicking on Slay-Z, just lots of surprisingly slick pop, brimming with hooks and showcasing Banks’ impressive, sugar-spun flow.
For some, the most off-putting thing may well be the cover image of a semi-naked Banks, apparently showing off a recent boob job. The music within is, in contrast, endlessly catchy and upbeat. It’s almost as if Banks is compensating for her straightforwardness as a songwriter by trying to make everything else about herself contentious. She springs from the gates with swaggering opener ‘Riot’, a glossy anthem-in-waiting that balances in-your-face lyrics (“I like conflict and command”) with a big syrupy chorus. It’s smart and slinky and, were Banks less intent on pressing the outrage button, would surely be all over radio.
Elsewhere she makes use of her rolodex. Rick Ross faces off against Azealia on the pulsating ‘Big Talk’, while ‘Queen of The Club’ deploys glistening EDM beats as Banks reminds us that, in addition to her world-class rapping, she also has a delicious singing voice.
To describe Slay-Z as a storming comeback might be pushing it. Banks, going by recent outbursts, has little interest in conventional stardom anyway. Given a choice between being all over Twitter or all over radio, she has generally chosen the former. It’s a shame, because when she sets controversy to one side and gets on with being a singer and a pop star, she has loads to offer. Under that confrontational exterior, a genuinely innovative artist is waiting to break free. Whether she ever will do so fully is a question only Azealia Banks can answer.