Tuesday, June 5th, 2012

Azealia Banks – 1991

I think we like her…


[Video][Website]
[7.44]

Iain Mew: Compared to the sharp directness of “212” there are a lot more different things going on here in the deep and shifting backing track and in Azealia’s rapping, just as confident and impressive but taking a softer approach. There’s a danger that its elements might be too many things at once and not work together, but the combination works as well as the pains au chocolate she starts off on.
[7]

Jamieson Cox: The first few seconds are reminiscent of Burial, whose percussion programming from half a decade ago still sounds like a transmission from the future. But as soon as those vocals enter the frame, there’s no denying that this is wholly an Azealia Banks creation. It’s one hell of an achievement, establishing your own idiosyncratic style with less than a handful of tracks in under a year, but Azealia has accomplished just that. Glossy, salty, sleek and oh-so-cool, “1991” reassures us that she’s still throwing heat.
[8]

Ramzi Awn: Pops like black crayon scratch art and delivers a seamless blend of different ideas with the integrity that 212 didn’t have, and a lot more focus.  Strong, warm and vibrant from start to finish, “1991” crosses its t’s with sweeping touches of texture.  Putting it simply, it’s alive. 
[7]

Jonathan Bradley: Azealia Banks is still little more than a cipher — her elastic mouth doesn’t give her any more personality than your average mixtape rapper with too many words and too little facility with detail — but at least the nightclub chic of the production here sprawls to more adventurous places than “212.” On the other hand, she doesn’t say “cunt” in this one, so it’s basically a wash.
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: Azealia Banks had basically lost me. I’d gotten sick of the unquestioning critical consensus, the frenzy of praise over her saying “cunt” a few times, the endless monotony of album pushbacks, too well-timed promo singles, too-sparse interview schedules, rote feuds. I’d stopped listening to her actual music, too, but then again, I’d stopped listening to a lot of things. Anyway, I started this blurb intending to tank this score and didn’t change my mind for the gratuitous French or gratuitous swearing — then, just after a “Like a Virgin” reference I groaned at, I noticed this sample, a vocal loop that slithers forward in the mix then springs upon you before you can even process it. That recedes for two equally great beats to take its place, and though they’re trendy — ’90s house and R&B throwbacks practically come with five free reblogs — that doesn’t make them less great. Banks knows this; her verses, though as crafted as “212”‘s, are far less showy, as not to distract. So there’s your lesson: sometimes, sometimes, what seems like lack of effort is simply effortless skill.
[8]

Anthony Easton: Banks’ vocal track over the onomatopoeic secondary track and the percussion is almost too much to listen to — too much information, too much of a vocal signal — and so when it starts to work like braided ribbon, the thing works better, the text is stronger. Near the middle of the song, when the whole thing is pulled apart, it’s a dissection as opposed to a fraying. Sophisticated and gorgeous.
[8]

Brad Shoup: Little bit grimmer. The structure’s similar to “212,” but now she’s burrowed into the beat. She clutches those vowels tighter, and if there’s nothing like the release of the final verse of “212,” the sung bit here is better. Keeping with the title, she’s drawing from Crystal Waters: finally, a 90s revival I can get behind.
[8]

Alfred Soto: More like “2001,” out of the Missy Elliott bag of tricks (rat-tat-tats, French) but she’s shrewder with vowels. Even better, the spare production opens as the track progresses, picking up momentum and an extra synth for underpinning. Still a one-song phenom though. 
[6]

Jonathan Bogart: There’s no shame in being a one-hit wonder; but apparently Our Azealia is not satisfied with being the Queen of Hipster Blog-Rap, and has ditched the bored monotone of “212” for something that sounds a little more like she’s listened to what other rappers do. Still joyfully logophiliac, shoving as many syllables into as few sounds as she can think of, but more low-key, more statement of self than statement of purpose. Something you can actually build a career on.
[8]

5 Responses to “Azealia Banks – 1991”

  1. Can’t wait for the instrumental.

  2. I like how Alfred’s blurb reads like it’s rebutting mine. Seriously.

  3. Was there really a chorus of praise for her saying “cunt” a few times? I, on the other hand, HAVE been criticized for liking Banks for saying “cunt” a few times (Banks saying “cunt” a few times is the twelfth or thirteenth good thing).

  4. There’s not a chorus of criticism, that’s for sure. (But it’s definitely something I’ve noticed in aggregate; it’s not directed at any one person.)

  5. @jbradley Instrumental is a shortened version of DDD by Machinedrum.
    1991 is exciting because, like 212, it shows Azealia Banks’ ability to be exciting aurally even when her rap lyrics are too fast to be completely comprehensible.