Hot Press was among the first to champion viral rapper Azealia Banks: she was on the front cover of the magazine all of three years ago. In the interim we have had our moments of doubt: her debut album always appeared to be somewhere over the horizon. Meanwhile, Banks was cultivating a parallel career as professional Twitter feuder finding time, even as her LP languished uncompleted, to wage highly entertaining virtual spats with everyone from Iggy Azalea to, improbably, Amanda Brunker.
Now, the long wait is over. True to form, apparently without consulting her record company, Azealia has opted to self-release her album months early. It opens with a clackety rhythmic statement of intent before launching into the snake charmer atmosphere of ‘Idle Delilah’. Guttural and jagged, Banks’ music is far too awkward to be deemed natural chart fodder. African and Latin influences slip in and out of focus. Haunting voices float in the background. Throughout, the intrigue level remains high. On ‘212’ she raps with brilliant dexterity, piling the words on, slipping perfectly into the crevices of the music.
Across its uncompromising 16-track, 60 minute span, Banks has crafted an utterly singular record: a clattering mash-up of feral dance music and frenetic pop, illuminated by the rapper’s sometimes bling-obsessed and frequently sexually explicit lyrics: “Now she wanna lick my plum in the evening/ And fit that ton-tongue d-deep in,” she recounts in ‘212’, before delivering the kiss-off. “I guess that cunt getting eaten.”
There are house pianos on display, twisted guitar, chunky bass, abrasive washes of rhythm and quietly epic bursts of brass. None of this is for the faint of heart. This, of course, is exactly as Banks intended: she doesn’t do compromise. Broke With Expensive Taste may not set global charts alight but it does signal the arrival of a major talent.

Key Track - '212'