Album Review: 2005 by ian
ian built his whole image on being easy to clown. The meme costume fit a little too well, so without further ado, let us introduce you to the worst rap album you’ll ever hear for the past decade.
It’s ridiculously easy not to take ian seriously. Really, ridiculously easy. So you’ve got this totally average guy who looks like every prep-school rich kid born after 2000. He makes extremely labored half-parodies of Future and Gucci Mane, slaps memes on the covers, and milks that contrast for all it’s worth. “Huh! A well-off white guy doing trap? Wow, that’s incredible!” said absolutely no one. Those two mixtapes, Valedictorian and Goodbye Horses, were enough to get him a bit of virality and a spot in the XXL Freshman Class, but basically, ian has been a punchline from day one.
That status as a laughingstock escalated into a cinematic series of massacres from practically every critic still out there, and climaxed in an interview clip of Tyler, the Creator calling ian basically the worst thing happening to hip-hop right now. So in his short career, Iin became the perfect villain. In the dictionary, his picture shows up next to “culture vulture.” But ian is not Lil Mabu. What if I told you this new album of his actually isn’t total garbage? More than that: what if I told you this new ian album is, in all the classic ways, genuinely interesting. Would you believe me? I wouldn’t believe me. It sounds unlikely. The fact is: 2005 doesn’t completely work. But there’s something about watching this kid pull every lever he can to prove himself.
I didn’t even think “Magic Johnson” was completely crap. But it was especially the Lil Yachty feature “Hate Me” where it first became clear to me that this kid doesn’t just want to be a meme. That was a genuinely confident, atmospheric plugg track, and one thing you have to give Ian is that he has pretty solid taste in rap. And it’s very easy to believe he genuinely loves rap. Spoiler alert: NO. In a way, he represents a small shift in the hip-hop world. After all the Macklemores, G-Eazys, Machine Gun Kellys and NFs, he marks the first commercially successful white rapper who doesn’t clearly follow the Eminem template. And the Eminem template, unfortunately, usually didn’t mean The Slim Shady LP; it meant sneaking into pop radio with those shitty pop-rap ballads featuring a dramatic singer on the hook. Even with the pressure on, 2005 strays admirably little from his basic sound. Instead of taking the cheap cop-out toward pop or even country, it fights for the respect of a snide hip-hop scene.
And how does he do that? By summoning all the greats, a 2005-born suburban kid would idolize. Which, concretely, means: a whole lot of Kanye. The intro “Go Ian” comes with an opulent chipmunk sample, and he opens with: “It’s time to hang the hats up/I just came back from some shit I shouldn’t have come back from.” He’s not an elite spitter, really not, but you can feel significant progress in his mic skills. Above all, where his vocals on the first two tapes mostly tried to stay out of the way of the beats via Autotune camouflage, here he feels comfortable as the centerpiece of the song. He’s easy to follow, where it’s actually pretty fun when the fake Sexyy Red vocals flip a “Go ian” chant into a convincing trap knock. Again, why do I keep fooling myself? The track basically has a lot of what you want from an album: a convincing tension curve, a beat that gradually unfolds, and a protagonist who has something (but little) to say.
“Aw Shit” could have been a real banger if it didn’t showcase his limits on the mic more than anything else. It’s not a flop, but you can tell that where he wants to go would have needed another layer of energy and self-confidence. Interestingly, he shows exactly that on the following track, “You Told Me.” Here, the Kanye worship continues, and we shamelessly crash into a full-on Yeezus rip. Given how popular that album still is, we surprisingly get very few attempts to tap into that sound, so not even a single soul forgives him for the very obvious inspiration. But especially when the harsh, electronic sound strips back, he raps straight through at a level we wouldn’t have expected from him. And sure, maybe the low expectations are making a bit too generous here, but it moves me to see that all the clowning and hate didn’t make him bitter; they pushed him to really practice again. That kind of effort HAS to pay off at least a little, even from me.
In the middle section, the inspirations shift away from Kanye and Certified Lawyer Boy toward Future and Young Thug. At times, it sounds goofy, like on “Have My Back” when he hurls himself full force into real Jeffery-style vocal gymnastics. He obviously doesn’t quite get there, but the attempt does him credit, and it’s less crappy than you’d expect, but not something you would repeat over and over. “I Ain’t Coming Back” and “Remember Me” channel that trippy Future ballad sound. Content-wise, he uses that classic trick of singing about a relationship while obviously really talking about his relationship with the public. A bit like Justin Bieber on “Sorry.” It’s a decent stretch on paper, but once again, who takes him seriously as a rapper?
“Soul Provider” is another big swing that gets further than you’d think, but doesn’t fully come together. A slightly too clean gospel choir sings “What did I do wrong? Tell me, what did I do wrong?” and he sums up his mission statement as follows: “Truth of it is, I do it for the kids who wake up ready for the end of the day/Truth of it is, I do for the kids who can’t find nowhere else to cry when it’s late.” And again you think, oh kid, it’s sweet that you feel that way. But you can’t deny a certain dissonance with his previous material. If that was his intent all along, then up to now, he’s really been missing that mark.
Fine. I guess my dancing around saying “it’s not as bad as you think” and “at least he’s trying something” is not the most convincing argument. 2005 is a tape that wants to function as an absolute, shit-talking status report. Maybe it’s just benefiting from my low expectations. But while listening, I kept thinking that I kind of feel the vision here. My heart says this is absolutely awful from someone like him, who doesn’t look or sound believable. But at the end of the day, for all the effort, it still can’t fully hide that ian is simply a limited performer who keeps reaching beyond his range and doesn’t have the sauce to live up to his obvious idols. He built his whole image on being easy to clown. The meme costume fit a little too well, so without further ado, let us introduce you to the worst rap album you’ll ever hear for the past decade.
Basura (☆☆☆☆☆)
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