Wednesday, January 13th, 2021

Jul ft. SCH – Mother Fuck

Now off to France to cover some rap…


Thomas Inskeep: This French chart-topper is delightfully acidic, its beat somewhere betwixt overly caffeinated Afrobeats and sped-up reggaeton, over which both Jul and SCH spit nastily.

Harlan Talib Ockey: There’s a Lous and the Yakuza track where guest rapper Hamza deadpans “every day j’la fuck avec mon ice” in a way that makes you want to curse the sin of globalization forever. This is the same trick with more flimsy attempts at shock value, repeated for almost four straight minutes over a beat that sounds like you scrolled down too far on a teenager’s SoundCloud page.

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: High-energy without seeming frantic, “Mother Fuck” is cooler than a song with its name has any right to be. Of the two rappers, Ju comes out in better shape– he’s got a confidence in the boom of his voice that SCH’s rasp can’t match, and he sketches his lyrical ideas more deftly. “Mother Fuck” is the kind of track where skill at rapping matters less, though; it works due to its energy more than anything else.

Iain Mew: The warped line endings are like someone sketching and suddenly hacking at the page and tearing right through it with their pencil. They provide a nice contrast for the fast and flowing line work and shading later on. 

Katherine St Asaph: The twinkly-wistful piano, against the frenetic beat, rappers’ growls, and 800,000 “mother fuck”s, does make for a nice contrast. But “a nice contrast” isn’t enough to fill out this runlength.

Juana Giaimo: The super fast beat and the piano melody could have been interesting, but neither Jul nor SCH are the kind of rappers I like. Jul is too stiff, and SCH’s raspy vocals sound almost funny, not intimidating — especially when he does backing vocals on the hook. That weird noise that sounds like a sheep or some other animal doesn’t help.

Nortey Dowuona: As Jul skids across the shimmering, steely drums and the low bass, he unspools the city across his eyes, watching kids with years of talent wither and shatter, old girlfriends, his guests, and the creeping rise of the everpresent plague. It shows in his spinning, leaping flow, as he tries to capture the whole world before it is erased forever. Meanwhile, SCH cloaks himself in the allure of danger and saddlebags, as the frozen synths wistfully drift past.

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