Album Review: JPEGMAFIA - All My Heroes Are Cornballs
Even within the already abnormal world of experimental hip-hop, there is a visible distinction between those who push at musical boundaries and those who merely tread the already-explored ground; then there are rappers like JPEGMAFIA, who often seem to be simply throwing anything and everything at the wall and not caring what sticks. Peggy, as his fans affectionately refer to him, is an enigma even on paper; an Iraq War veteran with a master's degree in journalism, his bizarre, irreverent song titles frequently reference both modern meme culture and left wing politics, painting the 29-year-old rapper as someone inexplicably in tune with the millennial zeitgeist (previous track names include such classics as I Just Killed A Cop Now I'm Horny and I Cannot Fucking Wait Until Morissey Dies). His 2018 album Veteran represented a significant step forward in his artistry, yet for all its admirable moments was a chaotic, inconsistent experience that too quickly loses the ability to surprise and impress the listener. But despite the rapper's latest promotional campaign involving an ironic insistence that his new record would end up being 'disappointing', All My Heroes Are Cornballs is anything but: a powerful, compelling, and forward-thinking demonstration of just how insanely talented Peggy is at what he does. It's debatable how many of his inside jokes and oddball production choices will stand the test of time, but for right now this record is about as inventive and creative as one could ever ask for.
The opening track is a sprawling exhibition of everything that makes Peggy such a great artist, pushing him far beyond what anyone would normally expect of a rapper who titles his lead single Jesus Forgive Me, I Am A Thot. His rapping is simultaneously hilarious and impressive, his flow consistently skillful even while dropping bars like "Pray for my babies, they doin' time/Pray that these crackers don't Columbine". The autotune-laden crooning on the chorus is surprisingly competent as well, an indescribably catchy hook that hints at a more subdued, soulful edge the album will go on to explore in earnest. Still, even within such short track lengths Peggy finds room to switch styles constantly, and the constant interjection of hard-hitting percussion and vicious bars like "One shot turn Steve Bannon into Steve Hawking" ensures that one can never escape his superb rapping talent.
The self-aware, very meta edge to Peggy's lyrics is another distinct characteristic that recurs throughout the album and only serves to endear him further to the listener, even with simple idiosyncrasies like a comment on his recurrent coughing or slight variations in the phrasing of his signature tag 'You think you know me'. In between dropping bars about people "waitin' on the Peg like I'm droppin' Yandhi" (referencing Kanye West's latest perpetually-delayed album), he is able to construct entire songs around the expectations placed upon him by his (largely online) fanbase; the short interlude JPEGMAFIA TYPE BEAT parodies both the imitative indie production culture on Youtube and the constant comparisons made of experimental rappers like himself to the band Death Grips. Peggy has bemoaned the continued likening of his music to that of the California-based group (arguably the harbingers of the avant-garde hip-hop trend), yet here he purposely crafts a direct imitation of their style, as if to demonstrate just how distinct and singular his approach is. Similarly disingenuous, the salaciously-titled BBW actually stands for 'Black Brian Wilson', a trick that betrays a meaning deeper than just a few lyrical references to the Beach Boys frontman and his eccentricities ("Fire helmets won't protect your head"). Peggy's production style is comparably inane and unconventional, yet it would be hard to deny that the results are any less dynamic and boundary-pushing than the sonic landscapes Wilson was able to create on Pet Sounds.
If Peggy feels unsure about anything, it is in the rapidly shifting landscape surrounding celebrity and social expectations in the modern age. As he himself has explained it, the record's title alludes to the idea that the pop culture figures people prop up and idolize are as human as the rest of us, their words and actions just as fallible and susceptible to the ever-changing standards of society. But Peggy is not one to gripe about how 'cancel culture' makes it slightly more difficult for already-rich celebrities to land gigs; he's come to terms with the fact that some aspects of his public facade may end up seeming insensitive (or 'corny') in hindsight, and even pokes fun at the idea throughout the album ("Rap been so good to me, I hope it get me cancelled"). These themes come to a head on the record's most personal track: Free The Frail, an ambient meditation on the nature of art and criticism whose poignant chorus serves as a summary of Peggy's views on artistic fame: "Don't rely on the strength of my image, hey/If it's good, then it's good/Break it down, this shit is outta my hands". He may feel confident enough in his image at the moment to litter the record with acerbic attacks on any white racists who happen to be listening ("Redneck tears, woo, what a beverage/Dead cops on my songs, that's hilarious"), but one's public goodwill is as fickle a mistress as fame is.
If it hasn't been made clear already, trying to describe the sound of this album is largely an exercise in futility. While it technically qualifies as 'experimental hip-hop', Peggy's unusual blend of abrasive rapping and synthetic yet melodic singing often sounds more like cloud rap or R&B, and the spastic use of outside recordings and aberrant electronic noise reeks of genres like glitch hop and even sound collage (à la Standing on the Corner) at points. In the midst of tracks that sample artists are varied as Atari Teenage Riot (JPEGMAFIA TYPE BEAT) and Taylor Swift (Post Verified Lifestyle), Peggy can be heard dropping lyrical references to a diverse range of musical acts including Carly Rae Jepsen, Swans, Talking Heads, and the aforementioned Kanye West; he even finds room for a quasi-cover of No Scrubs by TLC in the form of BasicBitchTearGas. What ties it all together are the rapper's intricate compositions and unceasing talent to catch the listener unawares; the dense, amorphous sound palettes which might sound abrasive to the uninitiated are actually layered tapestries detailing Peggy's ingenuity.
Many of the notions and perspectives explored on the latest JPEGMAFIA album have been present throughout his discography, yet never before have they been examined in such a compelling fashion, and neither has the rapper's production ever sounded so fresh and inventive. All his heroes are cornballs, and he eventually will be one too; regardless of how Peggy's work will be perceived in the future, all he can do is put out a project he can be proud of in the moment, and trust his fans and the general public to keep him honest. Despite how flippant the record's title may seem at first glance, in context with Peggy's words it illustrates both his uncertainty regarding the future and his optimism surrounding the burgeoning, youthful generation who consume his music. It's not just that JPEGMAFIA refuses to take himself too seriously, he encourages his fans to think for themselves and hold him accountable; All My Heroes Are Cornballs is merely a portrayal of one man's thoughts and ideas at one particular point in time, if an incredibly creative and inspiring one.
9.5/10
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