Album Review: Road Trip to Amsterdam by Smoke DZA
On another city-titled tape, the Kush God sets the weed aside to grieve his dead, and that grieving is the realest writing of his career.
Berlin, then Barcelona, then Amsterdam. Stamps collect in the passport as much as cities collect in the catalog; for fifteen years the Kush God name has guaranteed more or less the same excursion. Connoisseur talk of weed, high-end product, the mellow wanderings of a man who made a festival dedicated to the pursuit of smoke. DZA came up in the early two thousands New York underground; was signed to Cinematic Music Group early, and blew up on the blog-era kush mixtapes of the late two thousands, establishing a comfortable space for himself beside Curren$y, Pete Rock, Benny the Butcher, and Wiz Khalifa on other people’s records. Nevertheless, the trip is offered. But this time his head is somewhere else.
The smoke is cleared before anything else on “Grounded.” Instead of a fortune-telling opening, “I don’t do tarots, I got praying man habits,” and starts listing whom he can’t reach. In his dreams he sees the father he still can’t assemble. One piece of knowledge that he retained from Grandpa Dan Pompeii is that “knowledge is power.” The news of Todd’s death is met with an astonished denial (“Todd died on April Fools day, I thought it was a joke”), and Lil’ Bro continues to appear as background thoughts that bug him on the down low. The hook then reassures us for fifteen years’ worth of brand: “When you’re with me my feet on the ground/This time it’s not the smoke life.” He says it again, on the different section, “Pray all time I won’t smoke that shit, man.” He finishes the song with a prayer over spoken word to God to thank Him for keeping him off of his ancestors’ prayers. For the man who was built on a marijuana leaf, it’s not some kind of warming up for the show.
What gives “Grounded” its feel beyond a single track are the records on “Turnmeup” and “Harley Race,” where the God talk flows immediately after the ice into the booth. “Turnmeup” loads the ice and Cartier specs before diving into Five Percent Nation theology: “God body like I’m five percent/We ask forgiveness, not consent.” “Harley Race” is a kingpin record over a DJ Muggs beat, yet with a toe dipped in the holy water. DZA questions his enemies: “Is you with the God or did your faith change?” He asserts his role as godfather, asks for a kiss of the ring, and then continues his lit flex: “Twisting some lethal up to stay sane.” The prayer from “Grounded” bleeds right into the bragging here, same voice, same rhyme scheme.
Tucked away in memory, DZA’s writing can turn very specific. “Irish Goodbye,” over a Daringer-produced beat, references Audubon before the digital world: “Way before the digital sales, we hit Audubon for sour with the handheld digital scales,” then moves on to how the weed was pushed through a drought, and he got tight with the farmers and vets. Styles P comes through with the same corner-wise teachings of caution, “If you smart, you ain’t touching the white, but let the green fly.” On “Dead Homies,” an obvious prayer for the departed, T.F attacks the rap-money facade most directly: “It’s bullshit wrapped in premium packaging,” and then the audience knows why he bothered to show up: “We do this out of respect, these ain’t just features.” None of these features sounds out of place.
Not all side trips are worth the gas. “Gotham City” trades the spiritual journey for pure hard-hitting anthem (Fivio Foreign on the hook and Cory Gunz go beast mode on fat, dangerous verses) and loses its connection to “Grounded.” “Does He Do It” pads out one scenario of cheating over three verses and the same old Jerry Green chorus. “BTW” has one excellent, clear, and cutting verse that breaks the spell with a spoken outro of a life coach: “Start being accountable for what the fuck you doing.”
The realest, rawest kind of grief in this record is for someone still breathing. “4 Fiends Away,” a Nicholas Craven-produced piece, is for someone DZA came up with, whom he deals as his own nephew who’s been dealt his own hand, which is now the bottom of the bottle, because “the bottle turn a man to a child.” DZA is not willing to abandon him or lie, because “I caught your messages nigga, you’re stumblin’ hard”; he can only support his friend “from far.” It repeats the prayer from “Grounded”: “Could only pray for him, give him the same grace I asked for.” It ends where the prayer started.
Solid (★★★½☆)
Favorite Track(s): “Grounded,” “Irish Goodbye,” “4 Fiends Away”