Sideshow opens “YARDBIRD” with a discussion of heroin and jazz. “Do you think it made guys more creative?” one man asks; “The concentration of a heroin addict is very strong,” the conclusion comes down. It’s a bleak semi-rationale for the hedonistic impulses shot through TIGRAY FUNK, the Tigrayan artist’s first album in two years.
Of the myriad psychoactives glamorized in hiphop, dogfood remains fringe, even for self-professed distributors (consider Skrilla’s dogbone face tat). Sideshow’s hypothetical spoon session places his art in a lineage with greats like Charlie Parker, tracing a seam of addiction from the sealed pints of today to the poppy fields of yore. All around, billowing synths thrum and shimmer, coating every surface in cozy fuzz.
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Within the wider allegorical frame of TIGRAY FUNK, libidinal outbursts (drugs, sex, violence) frequently anchor Sideshow’s myth-making with real stakes and grimy detail. “YARDBIRD” offers a microcosm of the 10K rapper’s self-image. “All I need is a digi scale, n***a I can’t fail,” he crows. “Let em start faking, n***a we gon take it there.” From his vantage point, all the wannabe friends and would-be opps must look like ants.
