To all my friends and family, I’m sorry.
I don’t get Migos.
I know, I know.
They’ve been buzzing for about three years. Bad and Boujee is everywhere. Donald Glover really loves them. I’m not proud of this statement, but I honestly don’t understand what separates Migos from the very crowded pack of street-certified Atlanta trap maestros armed with Metro Boomin beats and a Ganger Grillz mixtape.
With their second album Culture is finally out, this seems the perfect time for me to answer all of my Migos-related questions. What does it mean to be bad and boujee? Am I bad and/or boujee? What distinguishes Offset from Quavo? Quavo from Takeoff? Is Zaytoven secretly a part of Migos or is he just like their Grammy Award-winning cool dad?
I start tentatively, splicing songs from Culture into my weekly listening. This doesn’t cut it. I can’t properly understand Get Right Witcha if it is sandwiched between Bec Sandridge and The Jungle Giants. My Migos awakening could have no half-stepping. I had to go cover to cover with Culture.
On the first listen, a lot of the songs melt into one continuous stream. All three members of Migos use their autotone-speckled voices like instruments throughout the record and on a cursory listen, that imbues a sense of repetition.
Although it was creeping towards midnight, I talked myself into a second listen. I had to really pay attention to understand, I told myself. It’s not like a lack of sleep would kill me or anything.
This time, it only takes two songs for something to stand out. On T-Shirt, Takeoff’s staggered bursts of rhyme sound great and he sounds so sleek for someone doing something so difficult. As I traverse the album and become more familiar with it, the unique characteristics of each song begin to reveal themselves: Kelly Price is hazy sticky-floor anthem featuring Travis Scott. Slippery feels like a transmission from a much cooler universe and Call Casting is a ready-made single which makes everyone in the group sound like a rockstar.
With each successive listen, Migos sound better and better. Their music is resilient and tireless, highlighted by their high output. Since quietly debuting in 2011, the group has churned out 12 mixtapes and two studio albums.
All the practice has gone a long way to making perfect. The work ethic of Migos has helped them refine their execution to a precise art form, cranking through a range of rhyme flows with remarkable proficiency. They’re not the first artists to utilise the tricky triplet flow, but they’ve garnered such impressive handle on it that it feels entirely fresh under their control.
The flair of their livewire flow is the perfect foil to the grinding trap beats that line the album. Over static, simplistic production, Migos’ verbal acrobatics have acres to breathe and stand out. Nothing on Culture ever feels cluttered despite the rapid pace the bars come at. Neatly organising all of the sounds in a song isn’t exactly cool, but it is an important key behind the group’s incredible rate of consistency.
If their technical proficiency is what opened my eyes to Migos, their knack for efficiently brilliant choruses is what held my attention for hours on end.
That becomes clear as I venture further into Migos’ discography: early breakouts like Fight Night, Versace and Hannah Montana are built around infectious hooks, while Culture cuts Bad and Boujee, Call Casting, T-Shirt and Kelly Price would each be the catchiest song on most other rap projects.
Migos lean heavily on their hooks and that can undo a song where the chorus isn’t particularly good (see: Surfin – Kid Cudi). Even when it is well done, the laws of the world dictate that eventually one becomes sick of hearing the same words over and over.
This may be the exception to the rule. After six hours of Migos, I’m not sick of anything. That isn’t the most concrete proof of their brilliance, but it’s also not something I’ve ever felt before after such repeated exposure to the same artist.
Even if their music didn’t instantly dazzle me, it didn’t take long to be sucked into the lavish, wild world of Migos. Culture is an intoxicating listen, transcending the very narrow thematic focus of the project with the sheer force of their talent.
It’s 4am and I need to sleep, but I also can’t pull myself away.
I need to find some track, any track, featuring Migos that will break me from this spell. Something lethargic, ill-conceived and bad enough that I’ll throw in the towel and get a few precious hours of sleep.
Okay, goodnight.
- Words by Reece Hooker who can be seen tweeting here.
