Bass is bass!
Iain Mew: The growling bass is relentless and IMMENSE. I want more like it. I can barely think while that’s going on, especially with all of the enraged C64 squeals over the top of it (he says Nintendo, but whatever). I don’t want to do a disservice to Invy, though, because not just anyone could fit onto that without sounding feeble by comparison, and because “Mad kill/That’s a cheap shot/It’s happy hour” is excellent.
Brad Shoup: Like I know how my friends could be the death of me; got no idea, but Invy shrugs it off like a certainty. I love how his mind works, from a Fourth Kind reference to a Jeff Bagwell namecheck to the awesome “lawyer fees and loyalties” — a phrase that doesn’t appear anywhere on the internet. He lays lines like a master chef with a pastry bag: awesome patterns made with deliberation. The cake in this terrible metaphor is that monstrous bass squelch. Fuck trunks — this could rattle a warehouse.
Jonathan Bogart: The grinding, neverending sine fart that provides the bass to the song could drive me into my grave; if Invy Da Truth doesn’t quite live up to its relentless evil, he’s still plenty badass, or at lest plays one well.
Edward Okulicz: The bass in this does absolutely nothing other than be noise, but the effect of it is that it does everything in the track. Like an incessant jackhammering or a broken AC, only instead of getting in your ears, it could level an entire building. It’s so simple anyone could have programmed it, yet the effect is pretty stunning. Invy’s pretty impressive on top too, because while he’s overawed by the simple but relentleslsly effective sounds, he’s commanding if you manage to tune them out.
Jonathan Bradley: The bass is earth-shattering like a backhoe: mechanical, shuddering, and leaving a mess of detritus in its wake. “Loyalty” could coast on its low end alone, but Invy isn’t just along for the ride. The gnomic hook, “lawyer fees and loyalty,” pares the crime narrative to essentials, but the verses are more wide-ranging geographically and linguistically. The rapper begins with a murder in Houston — “mad kill/that’s a cheap shot — it’s happy hour” — and ends up menacing the Midwest: “Retro: Detroit metro is going down/I’m from the ‘go: slap shots at Hockeytown.” En route he flips syllables back upon one another — “Broad day, find out where your broad stay/Let it blaze, take it to the stage like Broadway” — and lets consonants clatter out of his mouth like spent shells. A lesser presence would be overwhelmed.
Alex Ostroff: Chanes’ production on this is astounding; the perpetual grind of the bass, like a motor eternally revving, and the blippy video game noises sprinkled on top, are so completely entrancing that pretty much anyone could sound hypnotically menacing overtop of it. Invy isn’t just anyone though. I have no idea who he is, but he sets out his lines calmly, like someone who knows he has nothing to prove, confident that once you get used to dat bass (on the seventh or eighth listen), you’ll keep coming back for his own personal charms.
Andy Hutchins: Massive, airplanes-on-the-runway bass + spaceship elevator synths + a purloined Ross line is good enough, but Invy’s defter than rappers usually get on tracks this enormous, and the half-life of the synths has them decaying every so often, which is a nice treat.