Spank Rock
Everything Is Boring & Everyone Is A F—ing Liar
(Pod/Inertia)

Born Naeem Juwan, America’s MC Spank Rock has laid low in recent years, after managing a global word-of-mouth phenomenon with 2006’s debut Yoyoyoyoyo. (Although there have been the collaborations Bangers & Cash and Mobroder.) His lewd brand of “party-rap” – mixing dance music’s nervous thump with hip-hop’s strutting libido and braggadocio – has since waxed and waned in relevance, leaving him to start from scratch with this colourfully titled follow-up half a decade later.

So how does it compare? Well, there are no saucy cameos from Yoyoyoyoyo scene-stealer Amanda Blank, and first-album producer XXXChange (more recently helming The Kills, The Death Set and Kele) has handed over the reins to German whiz Boys Noize. For his part, Juwan is more chill and reflective, although still given to frantic stream-of-consciousness streaks. And even within this aura of newfound maturity, his delivery is as lean and hungry as Boys Noize’s trim, juddering electronics.

Stylistically it’s all over the place. The whispered, Smiths-referencing opener ‘Ta Da’ is like ‘Drop It Like It’s Hot’-era Neptunes given ‘Walk This Way’ rock signifiers. ‘The Dance’ and the Santigold-guesting ‘Car Song’ veer closer to fidgety New Wave, the latter offering some of the album’s best moments. After opting for Cornel West over Kanye and citing Burton-era Batman damsel Vicki Vale, Juwan alludes to his absence with the brag “Stopped for a few years just to make it fair.” Later, ‘Energy’ is like the dark side of Talking Heads, while his frayed vocals on ‘Baby’ nod to Prince and ‘Cool Shit’ turns icy detachment into post-R&B fun. It’s not all great: ‘DTF DADT’ is addled and obtuse, and ‘Race Riot’ just too goofy (“Shake it till my dick turns racist”).

Amid these detours, though, Juwan dispenses enough party anthems to keep the Spank Rock brand alive. With its blustering guests and shout-outs to Juwan’s past bases of Philly and Baltimore, ‘Nasty’ is the requisite dance-floor earthquake. ‘#1 Hit’ is just as wildly catchy, from its opening vocal loop “I can make you famous” and continuing through club bass, synth-pop flirtation and old-school hustle. ‘Turn It Off’ is more a call to arms (“Push for somethin’/Fight for somethin’/Stand for somethin’”) than usual, yet still threaded through scene commentary. ‘Birfday’ deconstructs rap themes of champagne and limos, while ‘Hot Potato’ stokes wobbly falsetto friction.

So in the end, an event album this isn’t. It’s more modest and more of a grower, balanced between readymade singles and trickier deep cuts. If the hands-off production can make it feel ghostly and almost empty in spots, that works for Juwan’s more meditative vibe this time around. Part of him may want to cut loose like in the heady nights of last decade, but the rest of him is ready to move on.

Doug Wallen