“Big Fish Theory” by Vince Staples
8.7
•
8.7 •
Vince Staples’ sophomore album demonstrates a simultaneous, studied affinity for the eclecticism and consciousness of UK club music.
Vince Staples’ second album “Big Fish Theory” continues to stand as one of the rapper’s highlights since his Odd Future days, fusing several components of electronic dance music and UK club production with some of his best rapping across his now six full-length albums. Simultaneously, the lyrical contents of the album capture Staples’ conceptions of 2017 social life and politics whilst writing on his own interior world and his rise to fame.
Staples opens the record with “Crabs In A Bucket,” a Kilo Kish vocal-heavy UK garage track with a song structure unconventional both for Staples and the breadth of mainstream late-’10s rap music. The metaphor this song is built on – crabs in a bucket failing to escape, remaining trapped within among each other – leads the album’s lyrical themes, analogizing Black American social life to the human disruption of ocean life. Here, we see systemic racism (the ‘bucket’) as the opening arbiter – and though its successive verses fall rather on-the-nose metaphorically, the precision works rather well for Staples’ concept. This, alongside the backdrop of 2-step rhythms, work to craft one of Staples’ best opening tracks. “Big Fish” is a classic Staples track – harkening on “Norf Norf” of his debut record – refashioning its poppier edge of Staples’ rap into a paramount single for this album and one of the most vibrant tracks in its entirety. Simultaneously a heavy-hitter and an easy car-ride listen, Staples strikes what sounds like chart-topping gold with a clear, concise personal narrative.
“Alyssa Interlude” touches the heartstrings with an Amy Winehouse interview and Staples’ writing on a woman in his life who seems to have passed. Perhaps the most lyrically vulnerable on the record, it’s fascinating that this song is made the interlude – but then, its production probably stands out as the least polished from front to back. It serves as an interesting dip in the flow of the album, perhaps somewhat jarringly so, but its poignance cannot be understated. “Love Can Be…” follows, shifting the energy with production elements from house and deconstructed club, which make the song as spectacular as it is. The verses are strong and the chorus is hypnotic when Kish’s vocals are in the mix, but the repetitive structure of this hook occasionally goes on too long; and though it may not be the most lyrically inclined song on the record, it doesn’t necessarily need to be. “745” follows this lyrically looser portion, but the stronger lead of the wonky synth lines and the bass heaviness in the trap segments make the song much more clean-cut and airtight conceptually. Encapsulating hedonism, late nights, and contemporary casual intimacy at its finest, this track accomplishes much and does it quickly.
“Ramona Park Interlude” is a slightly awkwardly-placed drop out of “745” and segue into “Yeah Right,” but it does manage to allow a moment for breath before the album’s strongest track. The resonance of SOPHIE’s production and the tact of Kendrick Lamar’s rapping were already a perfect recipe for success, but the aggressiveness of SOPHIE’s signature metallic sound and the thickness of the track’s bassline underscore Kendrick’s flawless verse perfectly. Staples’ strongest hook on the project ties the song together in entirety, providing an earworm-y refrain to launch the album upwards on the way. “Homage” follows, incorporating syncopated glitch effects and recurring breakbeats to produce one of the most frenetic collages of sound on the record; however, the metallic breakdown of “SAMO” and Kilo Kish’s accompanying vocals tie together with Staples’ most varied flows to cement “Homage” / “SAMO” as the perfect B- and C-sides to the resounding “Yeah Right.” It is across these three tracks, in particular, that we can see Staples’ ability to craft and execute a sonic vision at its best.
As the album enters its final leg, Staples leans more into an aesthetic and anecdotal style of writing with “Party People.” This, paired with the eclectic collection of club, garage, and electronic dance music elements, displays a resonant visual of party life and a more upbeat and fun side to the album’s overall trajectory. The poppier edge to this track certainly makes it stand out more harshly against those previous, but it brightens the sound and marks this as a Staples hit. “BagBak” leans out of this pop-proxy, more-so noteworthy as the best-written track on the album. Here, we see Staples run through ideas about racial profiling, capitalist critique, American government, and according political nuances that are more effectively expressed than any other concepts on “Big Fish Theory.” Staples’ ideological precision is at its peak here, communicating a lot quickly and doing so with a highlight flow and a shuffling rhythm to keep the song fast and engaging.
Unfortunately, the album’s closer “Rain Come Down” does not live up to much of the rest of it; where Ty Dolla $ign stands out as the weakest feature here, his pop-rap hook goes on to flatten the song further. This is disappointing, especially following such a strong second half to the album; the sparse production was an interesting idea to close an album influenced by bombastic sounds and heavy basslines, but the beat often lacks in places where the song already lulls from repetition or lyrical weakness. Regardless, those bassier sections do stand out as strong additions to the production, leaving the album to close with a solid albeit underwhelming final track.
“Big Fish Theory” spans a wide variety of club sounds that one wouldn’t find in most West Coast rap, but that’s not the only thing that makes the record so excellent. Whether it be the eclecticism of its sound palette, the strong features across each track, Staples’ affinity for improved hooks, or just an atmosphere of a shuffling garage – “Big Fish Theory” is Staples’ best record.