“Sometimes it’s not about making the perfect track; it’s about making the one that makes us laugh, cry, or think,” says Baltimore rapper Brian Ennals. Since their first collaborative LP Rhino XXL in 2020, the partnership of Ennals and fellow Baltimore-based producer Infinity Knives (Tariq Ravelomanana) has proven to be fruitful, designating the duo at the forefront within their arena of experimental hip-hop. The desire to play with the idiosyncrasies of their many influences has resulted in tracks that revel in the imperfections, in order to create something that speaks truth to power. Their latest release, A City Drowned in God’s Black Tears, is another bold progression in their DIY approach, but with even more contempt, exasperation and bitterness at the state of all things.
The album begins with the menacing electronic murmurs of ‘The Iron Wall’, before the arrival of Ennals’ unrelenting and direct lyricism, taking aim at everyone from Netanyahu to Trump, and the IDF to American capitalism. Speaking of the song, Ravelomanana explained their own position, which very much feeds into the song’s tenacity: “I’m fucking tired of Israel and America’s bullshit. I grew up in ‘post-colonial’ Africa, and lived in South Africa for four years after the Apartheid. I saw the terrors of it with my own eyes and have the deepest sympathies for my Palestinian brothers and sisters. Fuck Israel forever.” The accompanying percussion is disordered and chaotic, purposely giving the track a tension that is in keeping with its no-holds-barred delivery.
‘The Iron Wall’ is also the album’s first introduction to co-producer Frankie Malvaiz (known as FRANKI3), who provided support with mixing and sound design, and whose basement studio became the birthplace of the record’s most experimental and unconventional moments. As the record continues, we hear this on tracks like ‘Live at the Chinese Buffet’, where the cosmic synth drones weave their way around Ennals’ flow. In the background, the track’s childlike, otherworldly electronics have the effect of making the whole soundscape menacing, like a cartoon theme tune gone wrong.
A City Drowned in God’s Black Tears is impossible to categorise as it oscillates between uncompromising and tranquil in its topography, which is what makes it such an interesting listen. Throughout, there are wholly unexpected vibe shifts, at times playful and elsewhere, utterly unnerving. ‘A City Drowning. God’s Black Tears’, for example, begins with a beautiful, fingerpicked acoustic guitar melody and hymn-like vocals that reverberate harmoniously; a direct contrast to Ennals’ aforementioned rapping. After the four-minute mark, the track gradually switches to single solo guitar notes, echoing out like church bells then a cacophony of distortion and drums. It’s full of drama and apocalyptic by the end, in a similar way to ‘Trevoga’ a bit later in the album, with its soaring vocals and cinematic strings, reminiscent of a cue written for a film soundtrack.
After ‘A City Drowning’, the album returns to the original alliance of futuristic electronics and steadfast rhymes in ‘BAGGY’ and ‘Soft Pack Shorty’. But even then, on ‘BAGGY’, there are cracks in the normalcy of the track’s make-up, as the vocals occasionally warp and an instrumental outro of descending arpeggios chime in, while on ‘Soft Pack Shorty’, a mechanical piano accompaniment gives the song its added edge.
Lead single ‘Sometimes, Papi Chulo (ft. Gabriela Bibiana)’ in many ways encapsulates the album’s focus on reflecting the nonsensical nature of the world we live in and how it contributes to our fragile mental state. It’s a playful song that rattles through all the awful things that life can throw at you, with an added attitude of mild resignation: “Sometimes you say fuck and don’t pay back your friends / Sometimes life don’t give a chance to make amends / Sometimes you raise your kids right / They come out fucked / Sometimes you throw the perfect punch / And that cat still duck.”
“This song is just a reflection of all the peaks and valleys that kinda encompass daily existence,” Ennals said of the track, which is a description that can be extended to the album on the whole. ‘Everyone I Love is Depressed’, for instance, is full of dark humour with a Nile Rodgers-esque funk guitar riff that sits in direct contrast with lyrics about depression, addictton and suicide. There’s a melodic reference to the signature hook from ‘Tom’s Diner’ in the vocals, as well as a smooth disco groove that trickles all the way through, both of which help to amp up the absurdity.
But then we arrive at the album’s conclusion, ‘Two Headed Buffalo’, and we’re back to the world of muted, indie-folk vocals backed by a gently strummed guitar. It could be a Bright Eyes song, if it weren’t for the random off-kilter fragments, where the synth creeps in and we’re met with discordant shifts in timbre.
A City Drowned in God’s Black Tears is an album that was born out of a period of frustration and loss, both externally in terms of the tragedy of global events, and internally in the personal lives of Ennals and Ravelomanana. For this reason, it doesn’t appear coherent or congruous; it’s messy and jarring and elusive. But in this patchwork of ideas and visions in sound, is something completely captivating. Once again, the pair have created a project that underscores their propensity for social critique, while affirming a desire to remain authentically imperfect in their approach to creativity and experimentation.
