LD

4y

Rocky dislodges himself from the couch and ambles through a doorway toward another couch in the studio proper. Hector Delgado, a producer and engineer Rocky’s been working with for years, cycles through a series of in-progress songs for Rocky to review. “We gotta start narrowing some of these down,” Rocky says. “Some of these are not going to make the project.” Several of the best-sounding songs combine soft, ethereal textures with hammering percussion; dreamy singing with intricate rapping; hypnotic grooves with startlingly sudden rhythmic shifts. At this point in his career, another artist—maybe one who doesn’t spend hours physically immersed in pictures of himself—might have been tempted to make something more broadly palatable. But this music balances moments of catchiness with a defiant idiosyncrasy. At one point Rocky actually dismisses a song, named after Game of Thrones’ Arya Stark, as too catchy for its own good: “That sounds like a hit,” he tells Delgado, shaking his head. “I’m scared of hits.” 🐐 1 16:22 Before long, Delgado cues up a rough track that Rocky, working with the multiplatinum Atlanta producer Metro Boomin, began last night, raspy voice be damned. For a full minute or two, it consists exclusively of a looped soul vocal and Rocky’s off-kilter rhymes—no bass, no drums. As the song proceeds, his vocals almost seem to fall out of phase with the sample, and the whole track threatens to fall apart, at which point the drums rush in to right the ship. Rocky loves it. “My flow is hard to understand, then that b**** hits!” he cries out in delight. 🐐 1 16:22 Delgado nods, encouraging him: “The average person won’t get it till the drums come in,” he says. Rocky smiles. “This s*** is hard. But I was so sleepy. I need to fix the beginning.” Delgado cautions him: “You’ve got to rest your voice, Rock.” Rocky asks him to play the track again. Something about the start isn’t sitting right with him, but he’s not quite sure why. He tells Delgado to rearrange the sample at the outset slightly, then play it again. He listens, squinting. “Ugh! I wanna get in the booth and fix it!” he repeats.

When I finally leave him to work in peace, it’s after 10 p.m. Any birds in the neighborhood won’t be singing for another eight hours or so—plenty of time to figure it out.

LD

4y

For example: “I was here in this room one time, doing LSD, and as I was coming down the sun was coming up, and the birds started singing and we recorded the f—ing birds. They weren’t tweeting, they were harmonizing and holding notes! And I was, like, communicating with them, because music is universal.”

easylaurel

4y

this reads like a copypasta lol

LD

4y

For a full minute or two, it consists exclusively of a looped soul vocal and Rocky’s off-kilter rhymes—no bass, no drums. As the song proceeds, his vocals almost seem to fall out of phase with the sample, and the whole track threatens to fall apart, at which point the drums rush in to right the ship. Rocky loves it. “My flow is hard to understand, then that b**** hits!” he cries out in delight.

Is this Gradually, the leak with Metro?

easylaurel

4y

sounds alot like it

LD

4y

Delgado nods, encouraging him: “The average person won’t get it till the drums come in,” he says. Rocky smiles. “This s*** is hard. But I was so sleepy. I need to fix the beginning.” Delgado cautions him: “You’ve got to rest your voice, Rock.”

LMFAOOOOOOOOOOO

easylaurel

4y

Yet again, it was another late, sleepless night in Atlanta

LD

4y

Rocky dislodges himself from the couch and ambles through a doorway toward another couch in the studio proper. Hector Delgado, a producer and engineer Rocky’s been working with for years, cycles through a series of in-progress songs for Rocky to review. “We gotta start narrowing some of these down,” Rocky says. “Some of these are not going to make the project.” Several of the best-sounding songs combine soft, ethereal textures with hammering percussion; dreamy singing with intricate rapping; hypnotic grooves with startlingly sudden rhythmic shifts. At this point in his career, another artist—maybe one who doesn’t spend hours physically immersed in pictures of himself—might have been tempted to make something more broadly palatable. But this music balances moments of catchiness with a defiant idiosyncrasy. At one point Rocky actually dismisses a song, named after Game of Thrones’ Arya Stark, as too catchy for its own good: “That sounds like a hit,” he tells Delgado, shaking his head. “I’m scared of hits.” 🐐 1 16:22 Before long, Delgado cues up a rough track that Rocky, working with the multiplatinum Atlanta producer Metro Boomin, began last night, raspy voice be damned. For a full minute or two, it consists exclusively of a looped soul vocal and Rocky’s off-kilter rhymes—no bass, no drums. As the song proceeds, his vocals almost seem to fall out of phase with the sample, and the whole track threatens to fall apart, at which point the drums rush in to right the ship. Rocky loves it. “My flow is hard to understand, then that b**** hits!” he cries out in delight. 🐐 1 16:22 Delgado nods, encouraging him: “The average person won’t get it till the drums come in,” he says. Rocky smiles. “This s*** is hard. But I was so sleepy. I need to fix the beginning.” Delgado cautions him: “You’ve got to rest your voice, Rock.” Rocky asks him to play the track again. Something about the start isn’t sitting right with him, but he’s not quite sure why. He tells Delgado to rearrange the sample at the outset slightly, then play it again. He listens, squinting. “Ugh! I wanna get in the booth and fix it!” he repeats.

When I finally leave him to work in peace, it’s after 10 p.m. Any birds in the neighborhood won’t be singing for another eight hours or so—plenty of time to figure it out.

ThemCLBniggasweak

4y

Is that Ochocinco?