Album Review: Conway the Machine - From King to a GOD
For a group of rappers already far more productive than almost anyone in the hip hop scene right now, the news that the Griselda collective was, if anything, going to speed up their release schedule for all of 2020 turned more than a few heads, especially once they somehow started delivering on that promise. The trio of Westside Gunn, Conway the Machine, and Benny the Butcher have been impossibly active throughout the first half of this year (with five projects released between the first two alone), and Gunn’s triumphant record Pray For Paris proved back in April that despite the group’s old-school approach to rap and immense output, innovation was still entirely possible. As for Conway, too often the most overlooked of the three Griselda members, his latest effort was poised to finally grant him the adoration and respect Gunn and Benny currently enjoy. Despite the group’s voracity when it comes to putting out music, From King to a GOD is actually Conway’s first proper album, not diminished by a truncated length or the appearance of a guest producer who steals much of the spotlight. This was to be the project that defined Conway’s appeal in relation to the other members of Griselda, and in fairness it seems like many have already taken to the Buffalo-born rapper in the short time since its release, making it difficult to call the record a failure in that regard. Ultimately, however, From King to a GOD is not an impressive refinement of technique à la Pray for Paris, nor a concentrated, uniformly stellar display of charisma like The Plugs I Met (Benny the Butcher’s acclaimed 2019 EP). Instead, Conway seeks to elevate his stature to mythical levels via glamorous production and a more personal approach to lyricism; his efforts are admirable, certainly, but fall flat too often for his experiment to be considered a tangible success.
The awkwardly political Front Lines demonstrates Conway’s limitations quite succinctly; the first verse of what is ostensibly a tribute to George Floyd is wasted on arrogant posturing laden with regrettable lines (“I put the food in the oven and I ain’t talkin’ ziti”), and even while staying on message the rapper rarely gets more complex than a simple retelling of Floyd’s murder at the hands of the police. In a year already brimming with thoughtful, incisive, and poignant protest anthems, pitifully vapid bars like “What if it was my son? I wonder how I’m gon’ react/I bet I’m finna run up in this precinct with this MAC” ring especially hollow, and do little to ratify Conway’s more profound ambitions. Tracks such as this and Seen Everything But Jesus find Conway attempting to showcase some lyrical depth and vulnerability, but he can hardly keep it up for a single verse before going right back to the tried and true Griselda themes (drug dealing, gang violence, flippant misogyny, etc.). But perhaps that isn’t a fair assessment, given that on Forever Droppin Tears Conway delivers a consistently heartfelt tribute to the late DJ Shay…for six tedious minutes, not counting the two-minute spoken word outro. The rapper’s ode to his late friend is powerful, sentimental, and even quite poetic at times, yet held back by a poorly mixed instrumental that feels constantly at war with Conway’s words and saps much of their power across the entire track.
Aside from the expected appearance of producers Daringer and Beat Butcha (longtime Griselda collaborators who between them provide over half the beats on From King to a GOD), Conway has recruited a plethora of recognizable names to give the record’s production some much-appreciated variety. The grimy piano line Alchemist provides on Dough & Damani (fresh off of his and Conway’s collaborative EP LULU from earlier this year) works distressingly well, supporting what is perhaps Conway’s most dexterous performance on the album: “They wonder where I’m gettin’ money, I ain’t sell a record/I tell ‘em I was simply playin’ chess instead of checkers”. Many will likely label Anza as Conway gone commercial given the appearance of Murda Beatz and his trap-heavy production, but the initially odd inclusion provides a welcome break in tension and finds the rapper with a flow far more natural and effortless than usual. It’s a shame Armani’s generic verse cannot add enough to truly affirm the track’s merit; actually, nearly all of the features here are sadly punching below their weight. The few notable exceptions include Wu-Tang alumnus Method Man, who provides some great quotables (“Ain’t gotta tell you I’m dope, just stick the needle in”) throughout his appearance on Lemon, and the track Juvenile Hell, with its slew of skillful guest verses atop a sinister blend of tense string notes and unorthodox percussion crafted by Havoc of Mobb Deep fame.
Honestly, the only criticism fit to be leveled at these outside producers is that the album doesn’t utilize them more, instead resorting to the aforementioned Griselda regulars who saturate this project with some of their most lackluster work yet. Excluding Daringer’s impressive contributions to Dough & Damani and the eerie, insidious production on Lemon credited to both him and Beat Butcha, it’s largely one misstep after another: the overly indulgent, long-winded opener that is From King, a hideously cheerful piano line on Seen Everything But Jesus that even guest rapper Freddie Gibbs can’t redeem, the disjointed and sterile Spurs 3 that sounds like the framework a better beat should have been built on top of. That last one is particularly heartbreaking; the record’s sole Griselda posse cut should have been a tour de force of seedy, arrogant lyricism, and while both Westside Gunn and Benny the Butcher perform adequately, the lost potential is doubly disappointing considering Conway is (for once) unequivocally out-rapping his fellow Griselda members: “Ask the homie Wayno and ‘em, they’ll confess/Lotta albums are suddenly startin’ to feel a lil’ more Griselda-esque”. Many have bemoaned the monotonous boom bap instrumentals endemic to previous Griselda projects, but the more grandiose atmosphere attempted here largely comes off as needlessly ostentatious, save for on the retro closer Nothin Less where DJ Premier’s innate genius shows just how much potential has been lost on every track to come before it.
It’s easy to come up with reasons why From King to a GOD isn’t quite as dramatic a statement as it should have been, the most realistic being that it is meant to serve (in Conway’s own words) as an appetizer before the rapper’s upcoming Shady Records debut God Don’t Make Mistakes. Not even this justification, however, can explain why From King to a GOD falls short in so many areas, from lyrics to guest verses to (especially) production. Of course, Conway’s established audience will probably be more than satisfied with what he offers here, and considering both Westside Gunn’s inconsistent discography and Conway’s own history of half-formed projects, this album still likely falls within the upper half of Griselda releases, though honestly that says more about the group than it does about this record in particular. As for Conway’s reinvention as a fully realized, equally capable member of Griselda, maybe this will indeed be the moment where his talents are firmly established once and for all…or maybe Benny the Butcher will decide to arbitrarily drop something next week that puts this to shame. Either way, the wasted potential of From King to a GOD is far from regal or divine; consider it instead a tolerable rap album from an artist who can almost certainly do better.
5.5/10
Favourite Tracks: Dough & Damani, Juvenile Hell, Anza