Lyle Lindgren’s company is aptly titled monomania—a word that defines an intense and obsessive fixation on a singular pursuit. Over the ten year process of making his documentary, Mouth Full Of Golds, that obsession became the vehicle behind his commitment to tell an untold story of two cult icons and the movement they birthed.

Surinamese brothers Eddie and Orlando Plein, who were raised in Brooklyn, pioneered a couture movement in dental jewelry, transforming the grill into cultural symbol it is today. Though their story was previously obscure, their influence flows through the DNA of hip-hop history—from their humble entrepreneurial beginnings at Queens’ Coliseum Mall, to being at the epicenter of renaissances in Miami and Atlanta.

When networks repeatedly passed on the project, production stalled. In place of abandoning the film, Lindgren scouted other mediums. A filmmaker by trade, Lindgren learned the craft of bookmaking, transforming years of research into a coffee-table book. After multiple successful print editions, the book generated enough buzz to bring the documentary to life.

Fittingly, the film’s rollout has mirrored the underground movement it documents. After a year of private screenings around the world, Mouth Full of Golds made its most public appearance yet, with a screening at the Tribeca Film Festival.

I caught up with Lindgren a few weeks after Tribeca to discuss the journey behind making the film, the unexpected path from documentary to book and back again, and what comes next.

Tuesday 4 PM (EST) / 9 PM (BST) July 14th, 2026 (via video call)

Nigel Pala: Mouth Full Of Golds took nearly a decade to make. As you sit with everything now, do you feel like you’ve been able to enjoy the fruits of your labor yet?

Lyle Lindgren: I think so. I made this film because I'm genuinely interested in the subject. If that wasn't the case, I wouldn't have persevered with it for a decade.

It is a bit self-indulgent to make a film about a topic you love, so you get to enjoy the fruits of your labor in the process of making of it.

These projects shouldn’t take this long. They take longer than they should, and I think that speaks to how difficult it is as a creative to tell certain stories.

We spent five years trying to make this film—from 2015 to 2020, and nobody would fuck with it. It was at Vice, I had a big agent in L.A., and I was taking all of these meetings with major networks. People would say that they didn’t get it. At that time we were three years into A$AP Rocky bringing grills back, even Kim Kardashian was starting to ride the wave. It was very surreal that people still had that opinion. The film only really happened because I turned the project into a book. Without that I don’t think it would’ve ever been made.

Nigel Pala: That book was actually my introduction to Eddie’s story. I found it at the Kith store in SoHo, opened it up, and immediately got lost in it. How did you arrive at the decision to tell the story through a book, and were there any other ideas you considered?

Lyle Lindgren: It actually started as a short film. It was supposed to be a brief piece on Eddie from the time I met him through Goldie in New York. It would’ve only been about three minutes long—part Eddie, part Goldie.

Goldie had given me all this incredible archive material of him and Lando in Miami during the early '90s. Then Eddie gave me a DVD with artists like CeeLo Green and Goodie Mob on it, so the archive just kept growing. It was always meant to be a film—it just felt elusive.

I’d never really been into coffee-table books. They weren’t really my thing. I was inspired after seeing Tom Gould’s book, Bury Me With The Lo On, about the Lo Lifes from Brooklyn. Not long after that, I went to lunch with Thirstin Howl in Miami and he tried to upsell me a copy of the book for a rack. It was crazy. That’s when I started to believe I could tell this story in that format.

Around that time COVID hit and we couldn’t film. That’s when I decided I’m going to tell the story as a book. The format serves as an itch scratcher, that way if we never got a chance to make the film, it could exist exactly as I wanted it to. Even then, I always believed it would eventually become a documentary.

I feel lucky it happened that way. Making the book was a good exercise in taking the story, deconstructing it, learning the it front to back, and then figuring out what is narratively strong enough to make the film.

Nigel Pala: There have been multiple editions of the book, what distinguishes each one?

Lyle Lindgren: I published the first book myself. It was funded with the money I made doing loads of editing work during the pandemic. The first version was everything I’d gathered up to that point, and I interviewed a lot of rappers while they were bored at home during the lockdown.

I did the second edition with the publisher IDEA—they're known for producing all the books for Dover Street Market. We wanted to introduce more of a fashion element. Alastair McKimm, who was the editor of i-D Magazine at the time, introduced me to Marc Jacobs, and we ended up doing a feature with him for the second edition.

For the third book, we're taking a slightly different approach. It's a nod to Japanese bootleg films and fan-fiction culture. I connected with this guy, Grillz Jewelz, who makes teeth for Steve Lacy, A$AP Rocky, Rihanna—everyone. He's like the don of Tokyo, really the don of grills in general. We launched the Shibuya Bootleg Edition at Dover Street Market Ginza with an in-store signing. Japanese culture takes collectibles really seriously, so the turnout was amazing.

We always planned to do three versions, but the third and final version hasn't released publicly yet. I don’t think it will until something spectacular happens in the culture. It might take ten years—we’ll wait and see.

Nigel Pala: Design plays a huge role in the process of creating a coffee-table book. Coming from a filmmaking background, how much of that process did you have to learn on the fly?

Lyle Lindgren: I went into it very naively. I thought making a coffee-table book was going to be mad easy.

I referenced a few books, like Virgil Abloh’s retrospective for the Chicago Museum of Art. There were a lot of ideas in there on how to lay out typography in ways that I’d never really seen before and quite liked.

In terms of design, I worked with a friend of a friend, Dennis McInnes who was a graphic designer, and his collaborator, Henny Valentino. We worked on the whole thing remotely throughout the pandemic.

Eventually, I reached out to the editors behind Bury Me With The Lo On, Marissa and George. They took all these essays I'd written and helped me structure them. George is a real book fanatic, so he taught me a lot about sequencing and how to build a book. I was lucky to have the right collaborators around me, and I ended up learning about publishing very quickly.

When I was looking for a printer, I found Pureprint, which was right up the road from me. They'd done all the Nadia Lee Cohen books and had worked with Samuel Ross as well. I went on a factory tour, and they paired me with a print specialist who walked me through everything. The whole team was generous with advice. It could've gone really badly, but I got a good education—and, thankfully, we ended up making a really good book.

Nigel Pala: Famous Eddie and Lando Golds’ stories have themes of constant adaptation. In many ways, making this film required the same from you. How did you navigate the setbacks that came with getting it made?

Lyle Lindgren: You go through all these different trials and tribulations, but I think that's just the reality of low-budget filmmaking. That said, we did have great investors and great partners along the way.

We spent a long time developing the film, to the point where we weren’t making enough money to keep going. We’d end up sitting for a year with a year’s worth of work. Funding a film like this is tough—you never get the full budget. Someone gives you a bit of money, so you go out and shoot two weeks' worth of material. Then you get into the edit and think, shit, we've got some really good stuff, but we're only about 45 percent done. So you go out and raise a bit more.

People kept stringing us along, things kept falling through, and we almost went bust. Years ago, I nearly went bankrupt making this film.

I remember shooting gambling commercials with Mike Tyson, and we’d keep the kit for an extra day so we could go film at Eddie’s house. If you find something that you’re genuinely passionate about, you’ll find a way—by hook or by crook.

Nigel Pala: The film documents a countercultural movement that is now a part of the mainstream. Do you think the way it was made and released ultimately reflected the culture it set out to document?

Lyle Lindgren: One hundred percent. I think that if this film was made with a studio or a network, it would’ve been watered down. There would have been an emphasis on celebrities who don’t necessarily have a vested interest in the culture. The reality is, how much does a celebrity love the grill that’s in their mouth? In most cases, a stylist organized it for a shoot or a moment.

What I like is that we were left alone to make the film exactly as we thought it should be. We leaned on our on taste. We were able to show the history of grills, and where the culture is today, while covering how the movement spread across America. Every city got its moment, whether it was New York in the '80s or Atlanta in the '90s. We were also able to document how the Black experience evolved across those eras in America.

Nigel Pala: One of my favorite things about the film is how deeply it explores hip-hop history. Southern rap, in particular, doesn't get enough attention, so seeing artists like 2 Live Crew and Goodie Mob woven into the story was cool. How much of your own knowledge and research went into making this film?

Lyle Lindgren: I’ve been a hip-hop fan for as long as I can remember. Without being pretentious, I’d say it took 20 plus years of knowledge and research.

I remember being six years old and seeing my older sibling with all the Gang Starr albums. I was obsessed with MF DOOM in the late '90s—I had all the records. I absorbed everything I could: Big L, Thirstin Howl, Non Phixion, MF DOOM, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Wu-Tang Clan, Nas—all of it. That's the era I really fell in love with.

I've been a rapper. I've battle rapped, I've put records out, and I've owned MPCs and SP-1200s. I sat and dissected Pete Rock albums and DJ Premier beats.

Again, it is a bit self-indulgent. I basically got to tap into everything I've loved for the past 20-plus years. This film is me flexing my musical muscles.

Nigel Pala: How did you approach the film’s reenactment scenes?

Lyle Lindgren: It was a two-fold approach. We had all this amazing archive material—photos, videos, and amazing on camera interviews—but there were still big gaps.

For moments like Goldie's first trip to the flea market, or Eddie standing in his kitchen trying to figure out how to do this shit, there's simply no footage. Those are major moments in the story, so we had to dramatize them. They're part of the history, so I figured why not present them in a way that feels cinematic? We identified the moments that deserved to be put on a pedestal and made those our priority.

The other side of it is that, as a director, I've always wanted to make drama. Everything I'd directed up to that point—whether it was music videos or short films—had a very cinematic feel. Since nobody was handing me the budget to make a show, I used this film as a sample to show what I could do.

For the New York sequences, I wanted to reimagine the feeling of scenes from directors like Spike Lee, Abel Ferrara, or Scorsese. For the Miami scenes, Scarface was an obvious reference. I wanted Young Goldie standing at the payphone to evoke Tony Montana. In a way, I got to make all the films I'd always wanted to make, just in these little vignettes.

Nigel Pala: Rather than following a traditional festival run, you spent the past year showing the film to private screenings around the world. Given that Mouth Full of Golds documents an underground movement, was that rollout an intentional reflection of the culture itself?

Lyle Lindgren: What we found is that a film like this gets a lot of no's from the festival circuit. A lot of people don’t understand its significance. That isn't really a world I've ever been part of as a director. I don’t go to film festivals, and don’t necessarily get invited to them.

Over time, I started to feel like this wasn't a film made for the traditional festival crowd. Instead, we did screenings during Art Basel and the various fashion weeks, and we immediately felt more energy there. The same people who go to New York Fashion Week are in Paris two weeks later, then Milan, then London. It felt like we'd found our audience, so we decided to meet them where they already were.

We followed where we thought the wave would be, and it worked out. The screenings built an organic buzz because they centered around the people that the film was made for.

Nigel Pala: Goldie's name has come up a few times already, and he seems to have been an important connector in bringing this project together. How did that relationship begin, and what role did he end up playing in the film?

Lyle Lindgren: I first worked with Goldie on an art exhibition. He needed someone to come in, film his paintings, and operate a camera for free. I offered to do it, but the deal was that, once we'd finished, I could ask him a few questions. He was up for it.

I went over to his house, filmed him, and asked all these weird questions, which I think he actually enjoyed. After that, he invited me to tag along on a couple of projects he was working on in New York. One thing led to another, and I ended up working with him on pretty much everything over the next seven years.

Around that time, I'd had a set of grills made by someone that didn't fit properly. I mentioned it to Goldie, and he said, "I'll take you to my guy." That guy was Eddie.

He introduced me to Eddie and Orlando, gave his time to the film, and backed the project from the beginning. That's why I gave him an executive producer credit—he was the person who connected all the dots.

He's a fascinating character. He's one of those people who always seems to be at the center of something important—whether it was the gold-teeth scene in Miami, being in London when jungle music was taking off, being one of the first people wearing Stüssy in Europe, or introducing the people who brought Supreme to the UK. He's a real dot connector, but a lot of people don't realize how much he's influenced.

Nigel Pala: When you met Eddie and Orlando, was there any hesitancy from them about sharing their story?

Lyle Lindgren: Not at all, they’ve been very open because for a long time their story has been quite obscure.

I think, with me turning up from the UK, shooting a bit, and disappearing, they wondered if it would get finished. The process takes so long that I told Eddie if someone like Spike Lee wanted to make the film instead, I wouldn't stand in his way.

We always had an open line of communication, and there was a mutual understanding that this wasn't going to be an easy process. Once the book came out, I think they realized the film was something tangible.

Nigel Pala: What next for Mouth Full of Golds?

Lyle Lindgren: The next step is finding the right distribution home. The frustrating part is that, when you're trying to secure a deal, you almost have to go quiet. We spent all this time building momentum with the tour, and now we have to pause.

A lot of distributors and networks make decisions based on algorithms. They're not always working from taste or a genuine understanding of the audience. People who aren’t a part of a culture—or even familiar with it—can be quite dismissive. It takes time to convince people. That's one of the reasons we did the rollout the way we did: to prove there was an audience. The first question you always get asked is, Who's going to watch this?

Now we have to wait and see where it goes. Up to this point, we've done things in a pretty radical and different way. Over the next six months, we'll take a more traditional approach. If that doesn't work, we'll go back to doing what we've been doing.

Nigel Pala: What can people look forward to from you in the future?

Lyle Lindgren: I'm working on a new book about the Miami Boys—a group of drug dealers from the '80s who expanded their operation from Miami into Atlanta and Orlando.

I'm also developing a feature drama that's inspired by that world, and that's what I'm hoping to get into production next. I'll be operating in that space for a while.

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third take—action.

On the afternoon of my 25th birthday, I received a text message full of reverence from a friend, and though texts like these are typically joy-inducing, I found myself deeply indignant.

My reaction to the text was not an earnest tale of humility—in actuality, it was the ego crushing arrival at the conclusion that I am miles short of achieving the self-actualization I’ve long demanded of myself. The burden of proof became daunting. The gap between how I’m perceived and my internal systems of validation became unbearable to fathom—true imposter syndrome.

I planned to have it all at 25.

Three years prior, fresh off the graduation stage, I declared that the next chapter of my life would be dedicated to change. Coined as a season of ‘research & development’, I set out to avert the possibility of a marriage to my inertia.

I designed a course of action with a syllabus centered on cultivating refinement. One that saw me trade habit in favor of more structure in some regards and the complete disbandment of it in others. This process called for an expansion of taste, a commitment to improved health, and to be more receptive to different modes of thinking.

There were a few successes, but failure and rejection always tend to be the bolded text. As George Orwell once said, “Autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying, since any life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats.”

At 25 many cling to a performed sense of clarity. For me it brought forth a wave of questions, but as history would tell it, that’s merely by nature.

This chapter of life refreshes the palette of inquiries.

“Is the fulfillment of my own purpose useful to my community, or is it a selfish endeavor?”

“Does my life change if I run this half marathon?”

“How do you sell something necessary to an audience that’s married to convenience?”

“Is my nature of insatiability by design or by nurture?”

“When (IF) I do get married, what does love look like in year 10?”

“Does the Cécred serum really work?”

“Am I prepared for life after the co-sign?”

The answers to each are in the nature of questioning.

In a recent chat with my aunt, she told me about how tickled she was about my propensity to speak in absolutes. She referenced a phone call with me in 2021, recalling that I had authored the next few chapters of my life with assurance. I still respect that she didn’t oppose it, but I sometimes wonder why.

The freedom to dream can quickly become the burden of belief. In many cases, people see their dreams stepped on early, but my testimony has fortunately been one full of good omens. The grand majority of the people I have come across expect greatness of me, but expectation without a tangible roadmap can become overwhelming. Through it all, I understand that faith is a weighty investment, and if I concede to the unsureness of my tougher seasons, that sentiment will multiply in those who believe in me.

I’ve come to learn that boyhood is a bigoted endeavor, and growing into manhood calls for a diagnosis of one’s internal contradictions.

Last week I questioned who authored Genesis and the merit they may have, but today I asked the same God to guide my words. I still lean into mystique with dishonesty—I don’t dislike attention, but I need control of it. I yearn, but still adhere to a brand of stoicism that keeps the door shut. I seek freedom, but fumble with it upon its arrival. I’m sure of my talent but unsure of how it applies to the systems in place. I seek wealth, but still want to live an honorable life. I understand the importance of community but loathe being too accessible, and I relish in a dishonest sense of modesty.

It’s between these contradictions that the truth of our existence lies, and even with a level of understanding there is no singular answer to life.

Whether my brain is fully developed or not, turning 25 has assured me that my childish instincts were never quite incorrect, they just lacked nuance.

This is just the beginning of a refreshed learning curve, a rebirth of sorts, and internal grace needs to be afforded to move forward.

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The economy around our attention has always been of importance to corporations, but consciousness of the overhead has risen in the common person, sparking a commitment to reclaim control. Escaping the trap that is short form content has called many to retrain the brain by committing to long form media.

Welcome to the inaugural edition of PUBLIC DOMAIN, a new monthly column that documents the content I indulge in to reorient my focus.

Here’s my quarter one diet:

books

I Regret Almost Everything by Keith McNally

An honest account of life written by one of New York City’s most notable restaurateurs.

Keith McNally is the man behind famed downtown restaurants like The Odeon, Balthazar, and Minetta Tavern.

The memoir spans between his childhood and modern day in an order that is sensible, but far from chronological. The book is centered around two nearly fatal life occurrences that he introduces you to in the first chapter before bringing you into different phases of his life to better frame the experiences.

The book reads like a long and unexpected conversation with an elder, and McNally’s innate sense of wit and lack of pretension give the memoir a sense of charm. There’s an aura of intimacy within the book, as McNally makes a habit of highlighting the least flattering things about himself in away that doesn’t lean into self loathing.

Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin

A series of essays by one of the most acclaimed penmen in the history of literature.

This collection of essays picked apart the depictions of blackness in film & fiction novels, and also dove deep into Baldwin’s understanding of the African-American experience in the ghetto’s of Harlem and abroad. Baldwin also offered give his opinion on the black press and other intristic elements of the black community.

The copy was written between 1948 and 1955, but somehow maintain a timeless sense of relevance to modern the modern experience.

film

Uncut Gems (2019) Directed by Benny Safdie and Josh Safdie

I revisited the film that many would attest to be the crown jewel of the pair of brother’s young filmography, and was no less impressed by the narrative and cinematography.

Few directors have a handle on documenting the egoism in the psyche of man like the Safdie Brothers do, and Uncut Gems was the greatest expression of this understanding. Adam Sandler’s performance was amazing and still a bit comedic, and the film did a perfect job of articulating the obsession with risk taking men often commit to above than anything.

Though Good Time (2017) remains my personal favorite Safdie Brothers film, Uncut Gems is undoubtably the best and this rewatch was a reminder.

Belly (1998) Directed by Hype Williams

The cult classic that was the lone film directed by legendary music video director Hype Williams is one that is cinematically riveting, but leaves much to be desired narratively. Regardless, it will always be one of my personal favorites.

The crime thriller, led by Nas and DMX, follows a pair of friends leading an organized crime ring but beginning to pivot in very different directions. The path to enlightenment was different for each, but inevitable above all.

Few films have achieved the pop culture influence of Belly, and I’d call it an essential watch for any and everyone.

The Smashing Machine Directed by Benny Safdie

Over the last 18 years the Safdie brothers (Josh and Benny) have established a strong unified voice in film direction, but The Smashing Machine was a first step in the pair of siblings stepping out and developing their singular voices.

The film is a memoir of MMA legend and UFC pioneer Mark Kerr. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was cast as the lead in a role that displayed his first true departure from typecasting.

Though not a home run, it definitely was an interesting watch.

The Wood Directed by Rick Famuyiwa

Coming of age stories without dire ramifications and traumatic elements come few and far in black cinema, but The Wood is a beautiful detour from the typical.

With a cast boasting Omar Epps, Taye Diggs, and Richard T. Jones as a trio of friends preparing for one of their wedding days, the story backtracks to various moments of their middle class childhood in Englewood, California.

The film is a beautiful watch and I would love to see more films like it.

magazines

POPEYE Magazine - Issues 931, 937, & 946

Though most of its copy is in Japanese, POPEYE Magazine has grown to become one of my favorite magazines because of the publication’s humanity. Each issue has a singular focus and interest, and centers it through their editorial spreads and feature. There is no desperate sense of clinging to celebrity, and the magazine platforms real interesting people worldwide.

Issue 931 focused on band music, with spreads about record stores and live performances in different cities around the globe. Issue 937 served as tour of modern day Tokyo, highlighting niche landmarks and activities. Issue 946, my personal favorite, was a personal style guide spanning through many cities and even American colleges.

Each edition is rich in reference material, but also fun to explore in leisure.

television

Industry (Season 4) Created, Written, and Executive Produced by Mickey Down & Konrad Kay

I’d argue to anyone willing to listen that HBO’s Industry is one of the best shows in modern television history. The financial thriller and drama has followed its leading characters from intern to the remaining members arrival at senior levels in season four.

The show’s writing seldom lacks nuance, and this season sent its fair share of fan favorites off into the sunset, but it was a beautiful illustration of the clarity many encounter when they achieve the power they longed for and part ways with a world of familiarity.

articles

(Links attached to titles.)

Resurrecting the Thrill of Streetwear by Jon Caramonica (New York Times)

It’s not often in modern journalism that a writer gets to build out a story over three years, but Jon Caramonica was granted that freedom and delivered.

I’ve been following the rise of the UK based streetwear figurehead that is Corteiz since 2020, and each stage of its progress has been well documented on the internet by its founder Clint Ogbenna (better known as Clint419).

This article covers the last three year of scaling, including conversation about the brand’s expansive London warehouse, its various global popups, and multiple collaborations with Nike. Centralizing business, this interview is one of the few times Ogbenna opens up about the scale of his operation, and how much profit the company has turned.

Toshikazu Kayano: The Playful Maniac at ASICS by Shane Anderson (032c)

When a shoe rises in popularity, very few consider the science behind its construction, but learning about the lineage of design at ASICS was a fulfilling experience.

Tashikazu Kayano, the namesake of the heralded Gel-Kayano line spoke about his uncanny journey to designing sneakers, and opened up about how much he values the legacy he has built with the brand.

How to Charm a Room Full of Billionaires by Arabelle Sicardi (SSENSE)

I’ve always been curious about how auctions go down, and how auctioneers advertise the scarcity of an item in a room full of wealthy people who have seen it all.

This profile is a walk through of the science that dictates the art market, and Phyllis Kao is one of the most interesting people walking.

The Making of a Modern Fashion Critic by Eliza Brooke (SSENSE)

The term ‘fashion criticism’ has grown to become a misnomer in the modern day, but there is a few real ones still kicking in the field. Rachel Tashijan has been one of the few fashion writers that I’ve seen takes risks and explore meaning beyond the show notes.

In her profile with SSENSE, Eliza Brooke explores her unique pathway to her current standing, her innate love for clothes, and her singular voice that creates a fun environment for sartorial dialogue.

conversations

Between You & Me Ep. 12: Growing Pains, in conversation with Deante Kyle & Swave by Demetrius Harmon

A lot can be learned from a good conversation.

In a chat that wasn’t guided by promotion or a press run, Deante Kyle, Swave, and Demetrius Harmon discussed life, and the rigors of navigating their media presences in a way that left nothing on the table.

Ca$ino Documentary (Parts I,II, and III) by Baby Keem

One of the better music rollouts I’ve ever seen. Baby Keem pulls from childhood footage captured by his Auntie Connie, as well as interviews from family members and friends to better frame the life experiences he explores deeply throughout his album.

VINCE STAPLES IS AN ICONIC GUEST by Ziwe

Over the years, Ziwe has crafted a comedic identity through her show, but every once in a while a character can show up and add to the show by disturbing that balance.

Vince Staples sense of humor is innate, but also filled with nuggets of information that can send one down a rabbit hole. This interview was hilarious and we even saw Ziwe break character a couple of times.

dj mixes

IFE Radio (TAKA & dj blackpower) Elevator Music

I can’t say I’m a first time visitor here. Taka and MIKE created a harmonious balance between soul and techno that has served as the score to my life of late.

GETLIVE! at 214 Mulberry Aimé Leon Dore SOUND

An hour of Soul and R&B classics spun off 45’s. If you love music, you’ll love this mix.

We’ve reached the inevitable hour — the time of the year where music critics televise their taste and frame it as biblical through publishing of ranked lists that outline the ‘best’ musical output to release in a calendar year. In most years, this publication would comply and indulge in the taste olympics, but this year we’d rather just offer the world a few of our favorite things.

Albums

Son of Spergy by Daniel Caesar

Few musical albums can take you on a singular focused journey — and far less can take you on two simultaneously.

In what I’d attest to be his magnum opus, Daniel Caesar explored his faith, while paralleling it to his relationship with his father. Framing himself as a son, both in a literal and spiritual sense, the beautiful melodies of this album explored how faith and fatherhood have shaped Caesar to be the man he is today. Son of Spergy is individual in exhibiting a shrewd sense of honesty, leaving me in awe after every listen.

Standout Songs: Sins Of The Father (feat. Bon Iver), Rain Down (feat. Sampha), Touching God (feat. Yebba & Blood Orange)

-NIGEL PALA.

New Detroit by Lelo

Detroit street rap meets Cyperpunk 2077 meets LUCKI/tread rap. A handful of muffled movie samples and producer tags peppered throughout feel like surreal dream sequences — or visions from the future. It’s the best album I listened to this year; required listening.

Standout Songs: Hundred Thousand Ones, Survivor’s Guilt, Between the 20s

-DARIO MCCARTY

Fada<3of$ by Niontay

Being able to rap for the sake of rapping was starting to become a lost art. In a genre where artists are tasked with classifying as ‘conscious’ or ‘street’, Niontay is a conflation of the modern definition of a rapper in the best way possible.

His album, (pronounced ‘for the love of money’) is an exercise of the essence of what it means to be an emcee. His punchlines are as arrogant as they are grounded, and there’s a range of flows from song to song. Niontay’s worldview speaks through his bravado in a sensible way while his southern vernacular filters out the people who understand it from the people who don’t. He platforms many lesser known artists while making space for friends and common collaborators, cumulatively forming one of the most interesting rap albums of the year.

Standout Songs: Triangle offense (feat. Mavi & Sideshow), Old Kent road freestyle, Post game pskr (feat. El Cousteau)

-NIGEL PALA

Fatboy by POLO PERKS <3 <3 <3

A sprawling, jumbled mess of pop punk-post sample drill-industrial-cloud rap that is both uniquely creative and listenable (a rare duality these days). My favorite track, “Uerto” feels like the euphoric and gentle embrace of a post-workout smoke break.

Standout Songs: Uerto, Camp Rock, Mr. Irrelevant

-DARIO MCCARTY

black british music (2025) by Jim Legxacy

I’ve been high on Jim Legacy’s unique soundscape since I was introduced to his music in 2022. This year felt like a victory lap for him after years of trials and tribulations, and his album was a testimonial account of it all.

Though many proclaim that we are in ‘reference hell’ culturally, the range of influences Jim Legxacy expresses and samples in his music are so tastefully organized that it creates a genre of its own. Every passing bar describing his life is paralleled with a pop culture metaphor, and every sample comes from a different genre. The title is a proclamation of a sound that mirrors a black British experience that far beyond the monolithic perception it bears. Through it all this project was amazing, concise, and expansive. Jim Legxacy is now a globally acclaimed act, and his sound has limitless potential.

Standout Songs: 06’ wayne rooney, dexters phone call (with dexter in the newsagent), sos

-NIGEL PALA

LIFE A TRIP by Lil Bean & Lil Yee

Often, I see writers say Bay rap has lost its sound. Untrue. It just isn’t hyphy anymore. The Bay rap I grew up with - the Lil Petes and Yattas of the world - go like this: Detroit beats are smoked out in Cali bud and doused in syrupy R&B samples (think: Brent Faiyaz outros). They’re then coupled with half sung raps that are somehow at once chill, laid back - but also sharp, aware of danger lurking. LIFE A TRIP is a perfect distillation.

Standout Songs: Life A Trip, 4 Door Space Coupe

-DARIO MCCARTY

#FEDERAL by SINN6R

Underground music scenes have become eerily boring to me of late, and many acts seem gimmicky and fleeting, but once in a while I encounter an artist that brings something unique to the table.

SINN6R raps with infectious energy and strikes the perfect balance between the UK drill music movement and the hyper-pop underground movement. There’s general appeal for the London emcee across scenes, and this album offers a through line for gangsters and emo kids. SINN6R offers caption worthy punchlines, while entrancing listeners with dark and energetic beat selection under his unique anthem building flows.

Standout Songs: Chilli (feat. Rico Ace), Runner, Personally

-NIGEL PALA

Dopamine by Lil Tecca

“Dopamine” updates Lil Tecca’s sound with new age, underground rap’s industrial production (alla Opium or Yeat — buzzsaw synths, sparks and static, like on “Sure of It”) but retains Tecca’s catchy hit-making flow of the underground SoundCloud era. Visualizers that feel like an acid trip complete the experience.

Standout Songs: OWA OWA, The Truth, Sure of It

-DARIO MCCARTY

The Summer That Saved Me by Odeal

Creating the perfect sound for a season is an art form. If an artist leans too typically into the status quo it can easily become corny, but Odeal had the recipe on lock this summer.

In seven songs that fall easily on the ear, Odeal crafted a near perfect project that encapsulates the summer lover’s experience. Lyrically it’s a testimonial account, but the acoustic and elements and the drums expand the world of the music. There’s touches of vintage Harlem, Atlanta, Miami, and an abundance of Nigeria, all communicated through the sound. It’s an easy listen, it’s timeless, and it’s smoother than anything I’ve heard in 2025.

Standout Songs: My Heart, In the Chair, Miami (with Leon Thomas)

-NIGEL PALA

The Face by ShooterGang Kony

The most overlooked California street rap album of the year. Suckas, fonk, scores, and creep-throughs included.

Standout Songs: No Legs, Won’t Stop Spinning, The Face

-DARIO MCCARTY

Songs

Rich Sinners by Skrilla & Lil Yachty

You got to hand it to Lil Yachty — he may be super annoying, but damn it, he has a knack for always giving his stamp to whatever underground rap act is bubbling and about to cross over at just the right time. And - we may hate to admit it, but the verses are always great too. Rich Sinners with Skrilla is no different.

-DARIO MCCARTY

Twisting by Venna (feat. Leon Thomas)

When I picked up a saxophone at 10 years old, this was the type of music I dreamed of making. Easily one of the smoothest songs I’ve ever heard — crafted by one of the coolest musicians breathing. If you listen to the lyrics, Leon Thomas is singing a players ballad in the most soothing manner. This is jazz for a bachelor in his early twenties. #RealMusic

-NIGEL PALA

Woodstock 2029 by Madlib and Your Old Droog (feat. Jay Electronica & Wiz Khalifa)

A dusty Madlib beat that could soundtrack a Wild West cowboy movie. An all star line up of rappers that could headline (millennial) unc-rapper Woodstock. What’s not to love? - DARIO MCCARTY

Signed a Napkin by Veeze

It’s hard to make a song more Detroit than Signed a Napkin. The tasteful sample of Loose Ends classic single Slow Down feels like an ode to the Motown DNA of the city’s past, while Veeze channels his innate sense of bravado and braggadocio over one of the best beats of the year. Shit talkin’ Cartier Buff music is alive and well.

-NIGEL PALA

90 mph by JBEE (feat. SILLAGE)

- DARIO MCCARTY

Bergamot by El Cousteau

Bergamot is one of those singles that froze time for me. The delivery is conversational, insanely relatable, and innately vulnerable. In typical Cousteau fashion he still found a way to flex a bit, but there’s so many lines in here that you could live by.

-NIGEL PALA

My Love by EST GEE (feat. Veeze & Rylo Rodriguez)

Don’t kill me, but there was somewhat of a case to be made that at the time of this song’s release, these were the three best rappers alive. Over a wispy, sunset-meloncholic vocal sample beat? Yes, please.

-DARIO MCCARTY

Lucky by MIKE

“While you have her you should cherish that' — you won’t get her back,” is one of the richest lead off bars I’ve ever heard in hip-hop. Painted over a woozy sample that sounds like a feint memory, MIKE delivers one potent punchline after another in a record like no other. He’s easily one of the best writers of our time.

-NIGEL PALA

Sweet Love REMIX by Pimp Tobi (feat. Big Sad 1900 & Kai Bandz)

This song is the anthem for when you’re fresh out of a long, multi-year relationship, and you’re in the car on your way to the club with the team, ready to act a god damn fool.

-DARIO MCCARTY

Exhaust by Earl Sweatshirt

This song is a conversation without a wasted syllable. It feels like Earl Sweatshirt sat every listener down and explained his years of hardship, before explaining that the meaning of life as a whole is what you make it. He didn’t speak around reality, but also didn’t frame it as extremely daunting. The outro feels like an audio hug, carried out in a uniquely personal way that I didn't think songwriting could achieve.

-NIGEL PALA

Music Videos

4x4 by Travis Scott (directed by Gabriel Moses)

Though I find the song to be pretty mediocre, the music video actually made the listening experience exponentially more enjoyable. Music videos are supposed to make you dream, and Gabriel Moses is a director that brought that feeling back in my eyes.

Featuring deeply researched Texan imagery, Moses’ dim lighting approach takes stage, while further accentuating the historical innuendos. A true exercise of brilliance from one of the best image makers in the game.

-NIGEL PALA

Morgan by Benji Blue Bills (directed by Jay Richardson & BNYX)

Nike-tech power rangers trying to take down an ass-shaking giantess Instagram model who is threatening to level cities with her “twerkulator” attack. I don’t think I need to elaborate any further.

-DARIO MCCARTY

06’ wayne rooney by Jim Legxacy (directed by LAUZZA)

These guys made an entire music video in the image of old FIFA games. The cutscenes of the pundits and the T90 references are timely nostalgic references. Insanely well done, and I doubt I’ll see a better music video for a very long time.

-NIGEL PALA

SAO PAULO by Slimesito feat. Brocasito (directed by HENRIQVE)

Slimesito teams up with a Brazilian rapper in the favelas and brings his camera man with him — giving new meaning to his collective’s name of “Rich Slime Global.” A very rare visual indeed.

-DARIO MCCARTY

NUEVAYoL by Bad Bunny (directed by Renell Medrano)

A cinematic retelling of what past quinceañera’s looked like, through the imagination of a Bronx native.

This video was full of mood-board worthy freeze frames, ending with one of the few tasteful uses of AI. It was impressive to see artists of this scale utilize their art as a tool for advocacy.

I’d love to see Renell Medrano dive deeper into cinema, she’s gifted.

-NIGEL PALA

Habits by Pozer (directed by LAUZZA)

Underground UK rap videographer Lauzza is my videographer of the year. This one sees him put Pozer - Stone Island overshirt and all - into a GTA-Payday 2-hybrid heist mission.

-DARIO MCCARTY

So Be It by Clips (directed by Hannan Hussain)

Visuals seldom match the music and the artists as concisely as this video does. No sensationalization, just effective lighting usage, and sharp imagery. It looks as expensive as it sounds. The most Clipse music video I’ve had the pleasure of watching.

-NIGEL PALA

California Games by Armand Hammer & The Alchemist featuring Earl Sweatshirt (directed by Shane Ingersoll)

The retro, 8-bit animation that accompanies this track would feel right at home playing on Cartoon Network Adult Swim Bumps in between commercial breaks.

-DARIO MCCARTY

SUCKA FREE by Tyler, the Creator (directed by Tyler, the Creator)

I’m a child of the 2010’s and vividly remember the times when artists were making cheap music videos on Windows Movie Maker. The Jersey Club scene was made up of music videos exactly like this, and Tyler leaning into the nostalgia spoke to me in a real way. This was a well done low budget project that restored the feeling.

-NIGEL PALA

Jump Out by Osamason (directed by his fans)

With the release of Jumpout, every elite Zoomer video editor seems to have come out of the woodwork to make their own fan music video. I’ve been enjoying the fruits, which are heavily influenced by Edward Skeletrix’s AI editing techniques. Here’s a few of my favorites:

- DARIO MCCARTY

Concerts

R2R Moe: Road 2 Riches Tour at Market Hotel in Brooklyn

It’s become somewhat in vogue to performatively hate on big rap entourages that take up half the stage at a concert. I understand where the sentiment stems from, but truthfully, when it’s clearly organic and authentic — when every member on stage is rapping every word, absolutely feeling it, and turning up like they’ve just seen their brother make a way (because, well, that’s exactly what they’re seeing), I find that the concert experience is nothing but enriched.

With his crew behind him fanning out their arms to pantomime waves — and in the process making R2R Moe looking like some kind of infinitely-armed Harlem Hindu deity — it couldn’t be clearer that his flamethrower verses of lyrically intricate sexy drill are a galvanizing force.

- DARIO MCCARTY

Jim Legxacy: black british music, North American Tour at SOB’s in Manhattan

When Jim Legxacy announced that his first American show ever would be coming to New York City in November, I made it my personal mission to be in the building. Unlike most concerts I’ve attended that feel like just another date for an artist, this felt like a moment in history.

A few hundred people crowded the small ballroom at SOB’s, an iconic coming of age venue for young artists hoping to gain traction in New York, and Jim Legxacy came out to perform in his inagural hours of being in America. Knowing the context of what it took for him to arrive at this point and seeing his honest appreciation of the moment, as well as the awe of his realization that he has fans overseas, was a unique experience. We all watched as his confidence grew by the song, and by the end of the show he was in flow state.

The performance felt communal, and every person in the room felt uniquely involved. In many ways it felt like pen pals meeting after years, and seeing the realization of a dream was worth much more than the cost of my ticket

-NIGEL PALA

One of the luxuries of growing older is watching cliche turn profound.

Live, laugh, love - three words, most often mocked in irony and plastered on suburban home decor, could serve as insurance from moral and emotional bankruptcy.

Recently this phrasing has been championed as the immediate manifesto of famed poet Thebe Kgositsile, better known as Earl Sweatshirt. Behind the slogan is a new album that I see as soundtrack to earnest living, with testimonial verses intent on disarming the constant urge we feel to perform above the human state.

To date, this year has taught us that every asset is volatile, and buying shares of empathy has proven to be an appreciating investment. On the come down from the highs of our pride, that three word phrase we tend to sneer at has become the very thing we need.

The conclusion of the summer is often a time of reflection, and I, like many, spent days dazed and dejected, but under the plaque of a decaying society were many earnest efforts worth noting.

Innovation often takes shape in iconoclastic ways, and though it may take time for the masses to understand, the quarter century marking year has been one of rich deposits entering its fourth quarter.

Table of Contents

1. For the Shareholders

2. Pirate Radio

3. South of Houston Street

4. Purely for Sport

5. The Movie Critic

6. Politics as Usual

7. As for Me/Au Revoir

For the Shareholders

Human Resources.

The Wire has been one of the more instrumental educational institutions in my life and a frequent point of reference in my attempts to explain the nuances of humanity. In episode five of season two, Stringer Bell, the notorious drug kingpin who doubles as a collegiate economics student, asks his professor, “What are the options when you have an inferior product in an aggressive marketplace?” The conclusion they arrived at was very simple, change the name.

In a 2021 seminar, the late Virgil Abloh said, “The best gift of being early in your career is that you can take everything that you’ve done, roll it all into a ball, and throw it in the trash.” So that is exactly what I did.

Church et State (et = and) as a title represents essentiality for now and the foreseeable future to me, as both elements of the title are personally symbolic. Church represents the visceral relationship I maintain with my interests, while state symbolizes the professional element of this exercise. The ability to communicate is my grand societal offering, and my global range of curiosity is the spiritual element that keeps me ticking. This platform represents the homogenization of both sentiments.

The Overhead.

It has been an interesting year in legacy media. A now defunct army of self proclaimed ‘trend predictors’ asserted that 2025 would be the year that the magazine returns, and while the logic that led them to that conclusion was viable, that isn’t exactly what has transpired. Simultaneously, AI generated articles continue to permeate the news cycle, and the line between news and entertainment has become too faint to visualize.

At the top of the year a shuffle ensued, with editors at summit of legacy print magazines finding new places to call home. The game that once went digital returned to print, with Complex and i-D relaunching physical issues.

On the ground level, I can say I haven’t seen many people that were’t already invested in collecting print run to grab new magazines. Much of the new work I’ve seen has been really good at balancing commercial effectiveness with fun, but gaining a casual audience seems to be a tall task, and the price of the product continues to rise. Re-centering community at the core of a magazines ethos has to be the primary focus of each company.

Beyond the tenured institutions, there are individuals turning community into copy. Renell Medrano’s “Ice Magazine” and Will Mahony’s “Have A Great Day Magazine” have exemplified the freedom of publication for creative expression. Both magazines have hosted various pop-up events for each issue they release, and create their respective magazines with their tribe in mind.

All things considered, I can confidently attest that the future of the media is in good hands, as long as we keep fighting against the loosening the plot.

Pirate Radio

The music I called home for the summer was wide in sonic range, but rich in spirit.

In phases I found myself obsessed with the work of the late Roy Ayers, spending long Sundays looping all of his albums. Car rides to Atlanta bass mixes were a necessity, and I spent the stormy weeks listening to Sade deep cuts. MIKE’s Tiny Desk Concert was a performance that almost moved me to tears, while “CRYSTALLMESS: Unleashed” mixes got me through my workouts, and I maintained an odd commitment to listening to Future b-sides on Sundays.

The new music arriving over the last few months has been impeccable and arrived come in rich volume. Nostalgia has been a common theme in the soundscapes we hear, but the children of the digital age have seemingly mastered the art of blending an abundance of references concisely. Concurrently, tenured acts are creating amazing and intentional work decades removed from their initial moments of stardom.

The dominoes began to fall when Clipse reunited to release “Let God Sort Em Out”, which was easily the most impressive showing of rapping ability this year to me. In the weeks that followed Jim Legxacy’s grand commercial arrival with “Black British Music” was a rotational mainstay, Tyler, the Creator returned having fun on a great dance project, Blood Orange’s “Essex Honey” was brilliant, and Earl Sweatshirt reconnected with joy on his album “Live, Laugh, Love”. Beyond the aforementioned acts, I loved Justin Bieber’s new album, Dijon’s sophomore release, and Odeal’s summer EP.

Patron of the New

Beyond familiar names, there’s been a myriad of budding artists that have peaked my interest.

Harlem native Liim Lasalle has been one of the most intriguing artists to enter the ether in a minute. The twenty-one year old operates in a pocket that is only familiar to himself, with silky love ballads flowing over muddy chords. His debut project “Liim Lasalle Loves You” was a perfect storm of breakup anthems and dance records, and his visuals communicate a strong sense of personal understanding.

One of the more impressive penmen on my radar is mark william lewis, a moody singer-songwriter out of London. His sound sits at the sonic midway point between Dean Blunt and King Krule. As the debut signee of A24’s musical imprint, Lewis has a somber but appropriately cinematic voice. His self titled album is the epitome of ‘rainy day music’.

In the modern jazz scene there are few artists more exciting than Venna at this very moment. The South London native brings his neighborhood’s flair to instrumentation in a way that ebbs and flows through genre and life alike. Years after his impressive first EP, Venology, and his prominent production output on Knucks’ critically acclaimed album “ALPHA PLACE”, his debut album “MALIK” arrived in early September. The album is as smooth as anything I’ve listened to this year and well sequenced with amazing visuals to accompany the music. Individually, I think his bravado can inspire younger people to reacquaint with the necessary genre that is jazz, and his upcoming North American tour should make waves.

Other artists I’ve been fond of are: EsDeeKid, a Liverpool native who raps over grimy production in a thick Scouse accent, Mike Shabb, a smooth Montreal based rapper who’s sound seems like the progression past pluggnb, and Nia Smith, a new soulful voice out of London.

There’s an abundance of music to love if exploration is your priority, and so many artists are just scratching the surface of their potential ability and reach.

South of Houston Street

To my delight, the excruciatingly pretentious space that is fashion content creation trended towards an existential search for purpose. The once self absorbed audience turned to fitness, faith, art, motor vehicles, and multitudes of other mediums to gain a grander understanding of life, and that process made the fashions a bit better. Long spells of this year were spent in a void of micro-trends, with a wider landscape of people looking less to signal to the tribe they aspire to, and more within.

Demna left Balenci’, Jonathan Anderson arrived at Dior, and amidst the great industrial restructure, every brand released the same sneaker.

Though less enthused about the legacy houses under the umbrella of major investment groups, I did spare some attention for each creative director’s debut.

I love the direction Glenn Martens is leading Maison Margiela in, though I do maintain reservations about appointing a celebrity brand ambassador at this specific house. The menswear displayed in the Spring/Summer 26’ collection was fun and reminiscent of the house codes Martin Margiela put in place during his tenure at the eponymous atelier.

While I do not claim to be an expert in womenswear, Mathieu Blazy did succeed in making Chanel interesting in his debut, and I haven’t been entirely impressed with either of Jonathan Anderson’s collections at Dior to date.

Gucci by Demna does offer commercial promise, and I think his debut collection and film are signifiers that he still loves to use irony at the center of his work. The vibe is similar to Tom Ford Gucci, but a little more punk and risqué.

To update the list of brands on my radar, I have grown to become a big fan of A.Presse, Luar, Anthony Calydon, and Todd Snyder.

Through it all the most impressive thing in fashion this year to me has been the Corteiz American Tour. Few have mastered the curation of a brand experience to the scale that Clint 419 has succeeded in it, and to me, this summer’s tour trumps all of his previous efforts.

Launched with a commercial starring Wallo from the “Million Dollaz Worth of Game” podcast, the tour started with a yard sale pop-up in the heart of Los Angeles, and was swiftly followed by a mock bank heist experience in Washington D.C. The last two legs of this tour were historic, with the brand taking over a subway for it’s NYC pop-up, and closed out the tour by opening Atlanta’s most iconic strip club, Magic City, prior to opening hours for sales. At each checkpoint Clint called on figureheads within each city’s landscape to be a part, and collaborated with brands gaining traction in a few of the city’s they visited. The tour was an illustration of brand community being more than a mission statement buzzword, and was testament to the staying power of Corteiz globally.

Though the common tropes about fashions in a recession are maintained, a counterculture of fashion obsessed and expressive youth persists, much to my delight.

On the lone night during New York Fashion Week that I did find myself on both Orchard and Greene Street, this army of kids were out and having a ball. As exhausting as it was to be there, I did gain a sense of satisfaction in knowing that the torch has been passed, and the soul could never leave style, even if much of it is objectively awful.

Purely for Sport

For every historic moment we witnessed in sports this year, there were three major disappointments, but there is a ton of promise for an entertaining future league to league.

The summer kicked off at the epilogue of what I believed to be one of the best NBA seasons of the last decade. Unfortunately, with the most competitive playing field in recent history, and an impeccable quality of basketball being played, viewership was at historic lows during this year’s NBA Playoffs. Advertising and positioning new stars has proven to be a tall task, and NBA fans seem to maintain a bias towards teams in major markets, which is a testament to the success of prior marketing strategies, but also a call to restructure for the league.

The FIFA Club World Cup arrived in America, serving as a dress rehearsal for 2026’s World Cup.

In my honest opinion, the group stage phase of the competition made me question America’s preparedness to host a World Cup again. Fan interest in the venues seemed very casual and disengaged, and players complained about the weather and the pitch conditions often. My opinion changed a bit later in the tournament, as the knockout stages did give some hope for an environment conducive to that scale of event.

Top flight club soccer has been peak, with English Premier League sides headlining the summer by making splash signings, but also just bringing that feeling back on the field. There’s a range of viable competitors and any team can be beat at the weekend. Young stars are ascending and the race for best player on the planet is much more democratic than it was in past years, making every game less predictable, and immensely more entertaining.

The highs and the lows of boxing have proven to be both exhilarating and exhausting.

Terrance Crawford and Canelo Alvarez’s super-fight was one of the most entertaining and historic bouts we’ve had the luxury to witness, with Crawford’s win cementing him as one of boxing’s greats.

Concurrently, the once promising lightweight division has become a ghost town. After a real battle with Lamont Roach Jr., ‘Tank’ Davis seemingly lost his love for boxing, and opted to cash out by taking the gimmick exhibition fight route against Jake Paul. Devin Haney and Ryan Garcia still haven’t recovered from the ramifications of their fight, and Shakur Stevenson in his brilliance lacks the ability to garner pay-per view level attention.

Even with the highs, for now, it seems like the sweet science is on a path to its demise, barring a major restructure.

Above all, the NFL continues to be the best sports product in American entertainment, with every week standing as a surprise, and a very fair amount of national consideration allotted to successful teams. My only reservation is that I wish media focused on the Dallas Cowboys less, but you can’t win them all.

The Movie Critic

At the top of the year I set the ambitious goal of watching one film a week. Entering the fourth quarter, I can honestly say I’ve failed miserably at meeting the benchmark, but the few films I have watched have been outstanding.

Of the 13 films I have indulged in, the best were easily Oscar winner Anora (dir. by Sean Baker, 2024), the critically acclaimed Sinners (dir. by Ryan Coogler, 2025), the quintessential bribery film High & Low (dir. by Akira Kurosawa, 1963), and the timeless Do the Right Thing (dir. by Spike Lee, 1989).

The box office has been booming this year, and many commercial films were actually impressive. F1 (dir. by Joseph Kosinski) lived up the hype, and was a great acting exhibition by Brad Pitt, and most importantly Damson Idris. It’s often daunting to escape the ghost of portraying an iconic lead character in a television series, but Idris put together a great performance that seemed like an extension of himself, as the great ones tend to do. The plot of the film was a bit whimsical and unrealistic, but was good enough to stand as great living room watch for decades to come once it hits streaming, all while maintaining theater appeal cinematically.

My personal favorite watch this year was the small project that boosted Sean Bakers career immensely. Prince of Broadway (dir. Sean Baker, 2008) is a story that could only be told in New York. The narrative follows an African immigrant who sells counterfeit merchandise on Manhattan’s notorious Broadway and Canal Street intersection, and his unsuspected son, who arrived years late and much to his father’s surprise. The camera movements in this film, and the DIY approach to piecing it together was a testament to Baker’s creativity, as the film gave the vibe of being a run & gun documentary.

Of all the films that did excite me on this year’s slate, I was most underwhelmed by Spike Lee’s contribution of Highest to Lowest. With a legacy as cemented as his, and a cast that calls on Denzel Washington as the lead, expectations will always be excruciatingly high, and while Lee normally rises above perception, this film fell far short of the bar to me. The film was a re-interpretation of Kurosawa’s iconic High & Low, based in New York, and the added elements like evaluating the music industry, understanding black capitalism, and the complications of reintegrating into society after going to prison.

The most profound of my reservations was the lack of decent performances beyond Denzel Washinton’s lead and Jeffrey Wright’s supporting role. Cinematographically, the film often strayed away from narrative focus to highlight the expensive art collection of the protagonist, featuring the work of iconic African-American artists like Basquiat and Gordon Parks among others. The score of the film was also extremely distracting in crucial moments in the plot’s development, and the profound line deliveries were entirely too predictable.

Ultimately, it is cool to see a legend have the luxury of aging in the game, but the film had a lot of potential conceptually, and just didn’t fulfill its potential.

Gabriel Moses and Djiby Kebe are two young filmmakers I’d advise film lovers to keep their eyes peeled to. Moses maintains a stronghold in his visual identity, while Kebe is a gifted storyteller with a vast imagination, and an expansive worldview. Both directors released their debut narrative films this year to solid reviews, and their future’s hold an abundance of promise.

My watchlist is growing, so expect to see more film commentary throughout the newsletter before year’s end.

Politics as Usual

On a global scale carnage has been abundant, with villages being destroyed, people being displaced and starved, all while heads turn in the opposite direction of the madness. Mass murder has been excruciatingly common, and resources have been limited while innocent people are silenced.

My heart and prayers are with the people of Palestine, The Democratic Republic of Congo, Sudan, Haiti, Tigray, and any nation in peril whose story I may not be privy to.

This Thing of Ours

Historically speaking, empires last about 250 years. This year marks the 249th year of America’s existence.

I’ve long exhausted a remote sense of outrage, and I refuse to lean into pessimism, so I’ll present what’s real.

I think it’s time to update the way patriots are defined, because those who love something should be able to criticize it for its betterment.

Systems are crumbling when you pay attention to the signs. The strength of the United States passport is weakening globally, and the U.S. dollar, which is the dominant currency in international trade, is losing significant value while continuing to trend downward.

The housing market, which was poised to reset this year regardless of administration, has seen minor improvement because of immense fiscal uncertainty. The typical pipeline from higher education to the workforce has all but eradicated, private equity firms are running free of constraint and buying the soul out of every notable piece of society, all while artificial intelligence’s influence has been perpetually hyperbolized

Through it all the priority of our leadership seems to be grifting, seeking revenge on alleged opposers, sticking out its chest towards vulnerable allies, increasing censorship on its own citizens, and erasing unflattering pieces of American history. Concurrently, the opposer to this regime is on a self loathing book tour centered around the alleged sabotage of their campaign from within.

The are few less self aggrandizing titles to aspire to than President of the United States, and the cliche idiom that is ‘pride comes before the fall’ could not be more applicable to any time than now.

In a moment that should be a time of restructure and correction, pride should not be priority.

We’re living in times that best reflect prophetic words of Toni Morrison, presented in her 1995 essay titled “Fascism and Racism”

“Conservative, moderate, liberal; right, left, hard left, far right; religious, secular, socialist — we must not be blindsided by these Pepsi-Cola, Coca-Cola labels because the genius of fascism is that any political structure can host the virus and virtually any developed country can become a suitable home. Fascism talks ideology, but it is really just marketing — marketing for power.

It is recognizable by its need to purge, by the strategies it uses to purge, and by its terror of truly democratic agendas. It is recognizable by its determination to convert all public services to private entrepreneurship; all nonprofit organizations to profit-making ones — so that the narrow but protective chasm between governance and business disappears. It changes citizens into taxpayers — so individuals become angry at even the notion of the public good. It changes neighbors into consumers — so the measure of our value as humans is not our humanity or our compassion or our generosity but what we own. It changes parenting into panicking — so that we vote against the interests of our own children; against their health care, their education, their safety from weapons. And in effecting these changes it produces the perfect capitalist, one who is willing to kill a human being for a product (a pair of sneakers, a jacket, a car) or kill generations for control of products (oil, drugs, fruit, gold).

When our fears have all been serialized, our creativity censured, our ideas ​“marketplaced,” our rights sold, our intelligence sloganized, our strength downsized, our privacy auctioned; when the theatricality, the entertainment value, the marketing of life is complete, we will find ourselves living not in a nation but in a consortium of industries, and wholly unintelligible to ourselves except for what we see as through a screen darkly.”

In society, many have internalized the dogma of tribalization. The result is a people that lean so far into appeasing the identity of the tribe they claim that they eradicate a true sense of self. Social media and other systems encourage a life where people bask in parasocial environments that only allow them to hear their own echo. Collective self reflection is a necessary step, and while universal understanding may be a utopian ideal, I do believe that if more people considered their ways, and their neighbors as humans, not statistics, we could at least make steps toward the reconstruction of failing systems.

Chin Up

Through the bleak smoke of it all, there has been a movement that signifies hope for better tomorrow, and it’s been spearheaded by Zohran Mamdani, who’s organic rise has placed him as New York City’s polling favorite for Mayor.

The sitting New York State Representative took on the approach of speaking to civilians to build the pillars of his campaign, and his honest approach has confused and agitated the bipartisan pillars who seek to maintain the establishment. The underdog is boxing way above his weight class, and winning.

While his proposed policies are a bit optimistic, he does offer something fresh to the grander political landscape. It’s rare to see a candidate who seems to genuinely care about the people they are campaigning to, without a purchased opinion, and I do hope he gets a fair chance to lead the biggest city in the world.

As For Me / Au Revoir

This summer I became a testimonial case of the “lock-in to crash-out paradigm”.

Words were hard to configure at times and ample sleep wasn’t even serviceable. The toll of ‘the great lock in’ ran its due course to completion.

I spent much of my time at home, or in the surrounding areas, and I learned to appreciate it for exactly what it is, rather than fleeing in search of the answers.

In the days I was coherent, I tried to focus on deposits. I prioritized the little things. I read more, I became more conscious of my diet, and struck a balance between exercise and rest. Investing in building a sense of community, even when inconvenient, was imperative.

What I got from it all was information, a deeper understanding of the things that keep me ticking, and the things that drain me.

Seasons like this will leave you in search of a grand epiphany, but simple words centered my entire experience. The last few bars of the aforementioned Earl Sweatshirt album encapsulated where I stand, so I’ll pass them to you verbatim.

“More power to you, but it’s no flowers in your vase

No amount of sugar gon’ help with the taste

At the end of the day

It’s really just you and whatever you think

I’m airmailing you strength.”

- Earl Sweatshirt

May God bless your hustle.

What value does representation hold?

Polo Ralph Lauren has long been hailed as the pinnacle of American design, and since its inception in 1967, the brand has succeeded in painting a luxurious image of the ‘American dream’. Over the last few years the brand has extended its hand, including tales of African-American prestige to expand its ethos.

Building on the foundation of their acclaimed 2022 collection, inspired by both Morehouse and Spelman, Polo Ralph Lauren unveiled a capsule that reveres the history of Oak Bluffs, Massachusetts. The town within Martha’s Vineyard has accrued a legacy rooted in being a relaxation haven for generations of African-American intellectuals. The neighborhood's context represents black wealth growing in a direction that permitted the ownership of secondary homes, building a successive community that has been preserved over decades.

At first sight, the collection’s lookbook was cool. The brief documentary the brand put together was an exercise of diligent storytelling, orchestrated in part by the brand’s creative director, and Morehouse graduate, James M. Jeter. The heritage of Oak Bluff’s is a legitimate black reality, and being educated about it through vestiary recontextualization was nice enough to get an Instagram like out of me, but not much more. In my youth this collection would have evoked much more of a visceral reaction, but I’ve grown to be weary and indifferent to such takes on representation, it's all a bit fleeting.

In the days following the collection’s release, social media erupted. Video essays and think pieces, loaded with an abundance of micro-aggressions were thrust onto the timeline. Ironically enough, almost every hand of the discourse led with the same manifesto, ‘black people are not a monolith’, before proceeding to emphasize their inherent inertia. 

‘Talented tenth’ protectors battled with the ‘crabs in a bucket’ mentality in a pyrrhic game of identity politics, bringing the bilateral trauma of the vast African-American experience to light. The pretentious academic crowd used these conversations as a vehicle to bring forth their experiences of being pushed to the fringes of blackness, before vainly boasting their accomplishments and wealth to imply superiority. Phrases like aspirational, and exclusivity were used to often describe their sentiments of praise about the collection. Contrarily, the self proclaimed voices of the street emphasized this separation by omitting the other audience to alienation, claiming that they have long delineated from black culture and that the collection doesn’t represent a real black experience. These conversations represented social class identity stoicism within the black community, with previously subdued xenophobia scaling into flamboyant ignorance.

The vast contexts by which African-American people have styled Polo over decades is a testament to a range of equally valid experiences. Hip-hop’s embrace of the brand through artists like Chief Keef altered its cultural meaning, while traditional Americana styling that mirrored the look books also bled into pop culture and influenced fashions worldwide (ex. Japanese Americana). Embracing the concept of sonder is an imperative piece of creating a unified black experience.

Every story has a right to be told, but none are sovereign. Ultimately, representation is just that, it can represent possibility, but seldom changes tomorrow. Don’t bleed for a co-sign.

On the heels of an era of rap where a more conversational internet landscape led to a homogenization of sound across regions (think: Roddy Ricch, A Boogie wit Da Hoodie, Lil Uzi Vert) we are now beginning to gradually part ways with the regionally ambiguous musician. While the nuances of each region's identity has changed from hip-hops infancy, as each region is arriving at a refreshed cultural identity, which in turn influences the gatekeepers of each region.

Last year’s rap war of left the genre in a state where clinging to a regional identity is imperative. We watched Kendrick emphasize the voices of a younger Los Angeles in his return, and the dominoes continued to fall when Drake reverted to the dark & moody R&B sound that has become synonymous with Toronto on a collaborative album with PARTYNEXTDOOR. Playboi Carti and Future doubled-down on exercising their Atlanta pride on MUSIC & MIXTAPE PLUTO respectively.

Younger artists in niche markets began to craft the recipes to become the faces of their own regions. We took the time to research the new wave and how they are building out the next era of hip-hop music within the constructs of their respective homes.

New York

R2R Moe

In the midst of the great NYC ‘slizzyfication’, R2R Moe stands out as one of the few artists that exercises all 16 bars over samples and kicks. The Harlem-based artist has crafted a sound that blends elements of decades of what being a New York City MC means, harboring his range through strong punchlines, effortless melodies, with the classic Harlem bravado.

Over the last few years R2R Moe has been on the receiving end of an abundance of high praise, with stars like Skepta expressing their appreciation for his work. His new project ROAD 2 RICHES, VOL. 1 continued the success of his first tape, elevating his name gradually in the conversation for the vacant role of ‘King of New York’.

NIGEL PALA

Kelz2busy

Just a few summers ago Kelz2busy’s debut single “Sinner” saw virality within a niche audience of east coast X users, catapulting him into a phase of ambiguous micro-stardom. Two summers and a few good songs later and he remains on a steady path as one of the most unique rising talents out of NYC. 

Kelz operates in a pocket that mends shades of late night drive Toronto-esque R&B, with impressive airy vocals that make you reminisce on The Weeknd’s early 2010’s sound. Flowing easily into the slizzy soundscape when he does lean into it, the New York in him is really found in his songwriting, where he often alludes to the  gritty tales of his East New York upbringing.

With the right resources Kelz could be a superstar, it's just a matter of time and output.

NIGEL PALA

2300

Slightly contrary to his common collaborator Kelz2buzy, Queens based artist 2300 makes R&B music for the party. Much like The-Dream or Lloyd, the producer and artist has carved a fun space that operates perfectly in between what the aforementioned artists have seen success at.

His 2024 mixtape “Bully” was a 30 minute trance of playerstic anthems for a night out derived from samples of 2000’s R&B classics. While lighthearted in approach, his songwriting is a bit more focused, telling stories of falling in love with 304’s and reminiscing on old fleeting flings.

2300’s production and approach offer a level of advancement that may define the next stage of NYC music.

NIGEL PALA

DMV

El Cousteau

A harmonious balance between diplomacy and tenured street understanding can be found three bars into a singular El Cousteau verse. The DC based rapper mixes well learned vernacular with DMV swagger in a manner that stretches way outside the budding regional scene. Couteau is a frequent collaborator of the new faces of conscious rap like Earl Sweatshirt & MIKE, but often brings them into his world in a way that achieves virality every single time.

With a sound both loud and tame, and a swagger that stretches a couple miles beyond the range of an artsy Howard University student, Cousteau is an alien and a native in the same breath. His most recent project Merci Non Merci offered a bit of everything, and cuts like “10 Karat” and “Alrite Alrite” off of Dirty Harry have been playlist mainstays for long.

NIGEL PALA

Nino Paid

Pain music is alive and well through Nino Paid. The Landover, Maryland native has crafted a strong fanbase with his intuitive stories told over flowy sample based crank beats. While his rapping ability and the vulnerability of his voice are the highlight of his work, he does have the ability to turn up and make a hit.

Growing steadily within the scene and being open to collaborating within his region has positioned him as the new face of the DMV musical landscape with the potential to hit a level of superstardom that has been vacant in his area since Shy Glizzy’s rise.

NIGEL PALA

HavinMotion

When I think DMV crank music, my first thought is HavinMotion. Though experimental in sample choice and the angle of his pen, the sound itself is infectious and fast paced. Whether he’s making a love song, or a bip ballad, there is not a HavinMotion record that will leave you at a stand still.

Over the past few years he has grown into a staple of the region, all while experimenting and pushing the idea of crank music in new directions.

NIGEL PALA

Florida

Niontay

Turning virality into longevity can be a tall task, but for Niontay, the reactions to his single “Real hipop” successfully turned many eyes to one of the best talents in the genre. While common collaborations with MIKE and Earl Sweatshirt have been key in raising his profile, his young solo catalog is extremely impressive.

The 10k Records signee and Central Florida native, who resides in Brooklyn, mixes the frequencies of both regions with ease. His laid-back southern flows often mask the potency of his punchlines, and while it seems like he's seldom trying, each verse communicates immense levels of sharp wit.

Over the last two summers Niontay has modestly been responsible for some of the hardest sixteens in hip-hop and his new album “Fada<3of$” saw success in raising his profile.

NIGEL PALA

454

The critically acclaimed Fast Trax 3 was my introduction to 454, and the project took an approach to music I had never had before seen in hip-hop.

The Central Florida native, who now resides in New York, has been creating some of the most fun rap music over the last few years, building a cult following. His signature sound consists of pitched up vocals at high bpm levels, creating an innate subgenre between techno and southern hip-hop that floats seamlessly into the nightlife scene.

NIGEL PALA

Chicago

VonOff1700

Chicago drill’s next generation is in good hands with Westside Chicago rapper VonOff1700.

The rapper has been everywhere – racking up features from and with G Herbo, Polo G, Ian, and even EBK Jaaybo (an appreciated link-up – the two feel like Coastal counterparts for one another). Where the first generation of drill artists like Chief Keef and Lil Reese were rappers of few words – letting a few well-placed, emphatic phrases do all the heavy lifting – VonOff1700 brings a denser, more verbose approach to drill writing. Next time you’re in the gym, or you need an extra umph to get your day going, give one of his tracks a spin – it’s a lyrical blitzkrieg that will snap you wide awake, like a plunge into Lake Michigan in the winter.

DARIO MCCARTY

Chuckyy

True to his name, OTF Lil Durk-signee Chuckyy – red hair and all – raps with a distant, cold delivery that infuses elements of horrorcore into drill. 

Although they are employed to very different effects, it’s a type of deadpan delivery that reminds me a little of fellow Chicago native LUCKI. If that comparison seems totally off-base to you, try listening to Chuckyy’s TikTok viral-hit sampling “My World” – a track that sees Chuckyy tap into a wavier bag. 

It’s dope to see the up and coming rapper and Tuneski connect on Chuckyy’s newly released album – which, if you haven’t heard the project yet, is a great way to get acquainted with the rapper.

DARIO MCCARTY

Atlanta

Zukenee

Few artists are more abundantly Atlanta than Zukenee. It takes a single listen to find the omnipresent notes of Young Nudy & Jeezy in his sound, but it sounds like a particularly refreshed take.

The music of the Atlanta native is the most modern take on the gritty southern sound, rapping over production that is a bit less heinous than his trap music predecessors. With a sound more ominous than malicious, Zukenee entered the game with few co-signs and his own crew playing by their own rules. Now he has the eyes of many of the biggest producers in his region, and he’s carving a lane that can set him aside from many of his rising contemporaries.

NIGEL PALA

NorCal

LaRussell

If anyone embodies the historical ethos of Bay Area rap today, it’s Vallejo rapper LaRussel. He hustles out a mixtape nearly every month, and has built a stage in his Vallejo backyard, throwing independent shows that’ve drawn stars as big as Snoop Dogg. He’s an avatar for the out-the-trunk, DIY hustler spirit that has anchored Bay rap since Master P founded No Limit Records in Richmond in the 90s.

Sonically, the music embodies Bay tradition, too: it’s right out of the hyphy era, with knocking bass-lines and lyrics that swang from line to line with the undulation of a scraper in a late-night sideshow. It’s made all the more enjoyable by LaRussell’s infectious positivity; it’s impossible to listen and not break out into a smeeze. On “YANKIN”, he puts it best: “out here we call that a slap, you hear me!”

DARIO MCCARTY

Pimp Tobi

For better or for worse, from Too $hort to Mike Sherm, East Bay Area rap has long been deeply influenced by Oakland pimp culture. Berkeley rapper Pimp Tobi is the latest embodiment of that tradition.

Beyond the name and pimp rap influence, there are a few extra points that make Pimp Tobi quintessential NorCal listening to me:

1. A tone of delivery that is somehow at once both laid-back and sharp; a perfect encapsulation of living in the land of blunts and bips.

2. His ad-libbed “Ah-Ahs” which illustrate the late Young Slo-Be’s influence on the region.

3. Bass lines that thump like basketballs in a car trunk; and perfectly emphasized syllables to match, which turn even the simplest of punchlines into massive, cathartic pressure releases.

Also – after listening to “Steph Curry (50 Bars)”, I’ve decided that if I ever become President my first order of business will be to sign an executive order that only Bay Area rappers are allowed to make Steph Curry references.

DARIO MCCARTY

EBK Madmaxx

With the recent rise of the EBK crew, Stockton has become Northern California’s de-facto street rap capital. The scene blends Sacramento-style gritty West-Coast gangster rap with drill (many EBK rappers have spoken about how growing up, Chicago drill influenced them).

Despite spending the last four years in juvenile hall, EBK MadMaxx has still managed the feat of building a modest rap career whilst recording and releasing music from behind bars.

MadMaxx has a knack for immersive first-person writing. On “K 2 Every Gang,” when he raps, “Fuck, man – where that come from?” you feel like you’re right there under ambush with him. Or on “Evil Twins” (which features his chemistry with fellow upstart EBK Leebo), as he raps “Is he really w/ the shit? Yeea. He got him clipped? Yeeea,” you feel like you’re behind enemy lines, eavesdropping as they assess MadMaxx’s credentials. His lyrics don’t just paint pictures; they pull you into them.

DARIO MCCARTY

SoCal

X4

Skittering drums. Hypnotic, plinking snaps. Rattling piano keys. These are the tell-tale signs of Los Angeles’ nervous rap production – a subgenre of LA rap popularized by DrakeoTheRuler in the late 2010s. 

South LA rapper and Stinc Team affiliate X4 is the city’s most recent torchbearer of nervous rap. If fellow LA rappers BlueBucksClan have made a name for themselves for – as many joke – just by talking on beats, then X4 has earned his from muttering on them. His music – full of nonchalant menace, unamused and unbothered lethality – sounds a little like if DrakeoTheRuler tried his hand at soft-spoken ASMR. Don’t let that fool you though: this is music best slapped at max volume.

DARIO MCCARTY

Wallie The Sensei

Long Beach native Wallie the Sensei has been making melodic LA rap since 2020 – but just last year he got a big boost in profile from his appearance during Kendrick Lamar’s The Pop Out show at the Kia Forum. 

While my personal favorite from his run that has put him on is the save-no-shorties anthem “Tarzan” – what really cemented his stature in the scene is his hit single “03 Flow”, a somber street soliloquy that pays homage to the LA R&B rap godfather himself 03 Greedo. Down to the piano-snap production, Wallie sounds a lot like Greedo, just with no bleary autotune filter. Given how he held down this lane for LA while Greedo was locked up, it’s dope to see him notch a feature from the recently released Watts legend in his most recent single. It’s only up from here.

DARIO MCCARTY

CUZZOSX5

CuzzosX5 are another revelation from Kendrick Lamar's The Pop Out (they were also featured in Kendrick’s music video for "Squabble Up”). The all-female rap group – which LA hasn’t seen the likes of which since Pink Dollaz during the Jerk era – consists of five members: Big I-N-D-O, JassCole, Milly Mo, TeaaWhy, and BB. Over mellow LA production, the Cuzzos take turns talking their shit like a group chat. They cover it all – from broke DM-sliders to envious haters to hubby-material hoochie daddies – with the chemistry of a group of girls who’ve known each other since grade school.

For a robust introduction, check out their debut EP from last year, Stay Safe. “Me falling off would make you buster bitches happy,” raps Milly on the album’s standout single “POP OUT” – if the Cuzzos keep at this pace, the busters will be kept waiting indefinitely.

DARIO MCCARTY

In an art economy that cyclically consumes and disposes of African artists, how much does a dollar cost? This profound sentiment is explored intuitively in Djiby Kebe’s short film, L’avance (“in advance”).

For those unfamiliar, Djiby Kebe is a rising artist based out of Paris with a noteworthy resume that spans across various disciplines. Primarily working through photography, while advancing his education in filmmaking, Kebe has been a common collaborator of titans within the art industry. The Mali native is also a co-founder of Air Afrique, a Pan-African community intent on mobilizing the diaspora through the arts. Following a successful film festival run, Kebe’s debut film became available to the public, streaming on Mubi with a co-sign from heralded director and actress Mati Diop.

During my first watch I was intrigued to find that the protagonist of this film is actually created in the likeness of the director, which is a rare approach to starting off a career, but also a very acute one.

In concise and effective effort, L’avance wasted no time to introduce the narrative, bringing viewers into an art studio where we meet the protagonist, a young painter named Aliou, who is waiting to meet with an art dealer who took interest in his work. 

A meeting that was perceived to be an opportunity for exposure to the young artist quickly turned to a wager from the buyer. He reluctantly accepts an advance from the dealer, but the painting that the buyer fell in love with was an image of Aliou’s late mother, tasking him with the burden of mulling over the weight of this impending transaction through the remainder of the film.

The scenes following refine Aliou’s world to the audience, as he attempts to bring his painting to its possible destination by the end of the day. We get introduced to various members of his community, like a local social media persona who seems to have a shallow understanding of the protagonist, and his extended family members who all live in a relatively small apartment together. 

Each layer of Aliou’s world drastically differs from the artistic spaces he is forced to navigate, and this sentiment is expressed modestly through small actions. Micro code switches create a narrative within the narrative, with him taking on an effortless change in approach in almost every space he interacts with along the way. The most profound of these adjustments to me was the moment where he removed his hoop earring before entering his home, a small gesture that is all too familiar to young men of the African Diaspora that were raised in the west.

Ultimately, the film’s climax saw an honest protagonist receive a heart wrenching reality check, realizing upon arrival at the art dealer's home that he and his work were relegated to being the trendy purchase of the week. Hours of work, the navigation of trauma, and his bottom line had all been sold for a few cheers and a glass of wine, soon to be forgotten by the dealer who had little to no care for Aliou or his testimony.

L’avance feels like an artist's statement from Djiby Kebe, who has already created a lot of well received work in this hyper transactional industry. The film represents a call to action for virtuosos globally, emphasizing the importance of weighing the value of every dollar one accepts in a trade that demands their blood, sweat, and tears.

Kendrick Lamar has made a career of breathing life into his gift of penmanship through many mediums, but even as one of the greatest writers of a generation, the seeds planted by his pen often grow far beyond the intentions of the man at the garden.

The halftime festivities at Super Bowl LIX made history, as Kendrick Lamar became the first solo hip-hop act to headline, achieving the largest television audience in the event’s history. His performance followed a visually compelling and subliminal narrative, highlighted by risky setlist choices, a star studded cast, and the climax of a historic rap beef. Effective art sparks discussion, and the show succeeded in creating days of dialogue attempting to make sense of it all.

As I understood the performance, the show's narrative was a metaphor paralleling Kendrick Lamar’s navigation of the music industry with the Black American experience, tagged ‘The Great American Game’. Samuel L. Jackson acted as the narrator, playing the role of ‘Uncle Sam’, which built on the metaphoric foundation of the show, as his character simultaneously represented the game’s referee. Uncle Sam’s voice early in the show dictated what got performed, culminating in an inevitable rebellion by Lamar, exhibited by him performing his viral diss track “Not Like Us”, which has been involved in an ongoing litigation. Ending with a ‘game over’ visual, the show represented a victory created by ignoring the rules, reflecting the angle Lamar took in his well documented beef with Drake in 2024.

While personal to Kendrick Lamar, the performance did make many socio-political innuendos, kicking off with Lamar flipping Gil Scott-Heron’s iconic satirical poem saying, “The revolution bout’ to be televised, you picked the right time but the wrong guy.” He also used the phrase ‘40 Acres and a Mule’, a reference to the notorious promise made to formerly enslaved African-Americans after the Civil War. The entirely black crew of dancers in the show were dressed in red, white, and blue, forming an American flag at one point. Beyond the patriotic angle, the costume choice could’ve been indicative of Lamar’s Los Angeles upbringing, with red and blue possibly representing the influential gang culture that is synonymous with the inner city. Each layer of the production played a role in emphasizing the clear intentions of the plot.

I followed the social media frenzy of the show's aftermath, and read many essays and opinion pieces that were published about the presentation and its importance. Many hailed the show as a radical and revolutionary expression, and while I did see it as a beautiful and intentionally crafted show, I found these takes to be indolent.

During divisive seasons, people look for figureheads to spearhead movements that further the change they want to see in the world. In turn people become more impressionable, and in search of hope, people become prone to being leveraged by their own desires. This harmlessly selfish sentiment personifies the jarring experience of fame, one best described by Vince Staples in his 2024 interview with AP.

Vince Staples on fame:

“I think it’s extremely weird. I don’t necessarily think it’s real, but I feel the need for it is very selfish — not even in a negative sense, but in a practical sense. It’s necessary because we look for ourselves within other people, and the success of others gives us a sense of accomplishment or sense of just being seen.

And I think we utilize that like, “Oh, I relate to this person. I feel like this person, I look like this person. I talk like this person. I’m from the same place as this person. So since they are special, I’m special too.” ... And it just grows as we become more and more consumed with the Internet or visual mediums or just the idea of fame as fame changes. So it’s definitely something that deserves commentary.”

Kendrick Lamar’s art has long held a mirror to himself, defining his life experiences and how they fit into the grand scheme of society. His relatable approach created one of the most devout fan bases in music, but counterproductively created a sense of entitlement within his audience. When social issues arise, his fans call on him to reappear, and when he does appear they take the things they want to hear and create new meanings with it. Though this is a byproduct of the beauty of artistic interpretation, he often goes out of his way to articulate the very human contradictions that exist in his life and work, but when he proclaims he is not a savior, the fanbase turns their ears off.

While the political innuendos made by Kendrick Lamar in the halftime show were profound and relatable, they were done in obedience of the rules of the very game the show made metaphor of. The performance was an artistic expression of social understanding through personal memoir, and I feel like fans took those seeds and planted a new garden.

By definition, a radical or revolutionary occurrence includes change. The ability to look in the mirror and describe what appears does not equate to the correction of a flaw, or the intent to do so. Scenarios that make sense of social injustice, but lack a call to action and show obedience to overseeing systems are not radical, but are acutely aware.

The beauty of art is that it's open to a world of understanding, but in a western world where blackness bears the unfortunate connotation of being inherently radical, I believe it's dangerous and lethargic to define black expressions of social understanding as revolutionary. Though unintentional, the selfish urge to identify a nominal leader in hopes of a better tomorrow can place the black community in pre-made a bed of prejudice, simultaneously making hyperbole of the day-to-day African-American experience.

At a young age my father told me that you could instantly recognize a wealthy man by the quality of his shoes. Pocket watching aside, the ethos of the statement hammered home the idea that quality is imperative in mens fashion.

Roughly a decade after my father’s initial insight, I found myself navigating a sartorial landscape with values far different than the principles I was raised on. The common understanding became that status signaling is everything. Exclusion became a necessary means of creating value, and the way to market clothes to men was simply to sell an idealized image of a man to them.

“…dreams aren’t backed by gold, and there still is a consumer that buys clothes, not ideals.”

The earliest fashion shows I watched were staged to build a world of pageantry, full of show pieces that would never see the light of day, and every celebrity a young man aspired to live like court side. While it was cool to see a sense of imagination and performance on the runway, dreams aren’t backed by gold, and there still is a consumer that buys clothes, not ideals.

While at the top of fashion’s fiscal food chain these values still remain, an emerging batch of designers have formed their own loud countercultures over the last few years, making the menswear scene exciting again by simply focusing on the clothes, and building a stubborn brand identity. Many of my favorites graduated from smaller fashion week circuits to show in Paris and Milan this season, and they all boxed successfully above their weight classes.

If you listen to the streets, they’ll tell you Ryota Iwai of Auralee is one the biggest underdogs in design. The Japanese based designer is a workhorse, creating all of his own patterns, and building pieces from scratch. With each layer of every garment being carefully considered, the brand seldom has time to craft runway shows with long show notes containing tales of how society influenced the clothes. The brand exists out of a creative flow state, and the presentation of the clothes fulfills the brand efficiently. This season in Paris the brand simply shared a continuation of its existence, full of clothes that can, and likely will be seen on real people.

Iwai’s approach saw a trickle up effect this season, with Prada’s legendary duo of Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons presenting a collection devoid of a hypothesis, made simply for and out of the flow of creation.

Elsewhere, the lights were the brightest this season for Our Legacy, after a healthy investment from fashion’s father conglomerate. Initially, the decision to succumb to the pressure to sell a portion of the brand for stability scared me for its future, but this season’s presentation was in line with history. The offerings of flowy denim, classy down coats, interesting knitwear, and underrated tailoring was consistent with the brand's identity. With a middle ground price point, while offering of essentials with an edge, the brand evokes notes of prime Helmut Lang for a new generation of garmentos.

The perfect brand for shoppers in between the identities of Auralee and Our Legacy has silently been Mfpen. The Coppenhagen based house offers a hint more sophistication than its edgier Scandinavian neighbors, while offering a price point that is far more approachable than Auralee. This season’s collection was full of timeless wool down coats, creative knits, and jersey options for more casual days, using a cast of everyday people to show the clothing’s societal value. While gradual, the brand is and will be a consistent riser, picking up a few new fans every season.

Strong identities don’t wither, and they tend to create a definition of cool. The embodiment of this understanding is present in the DNA of brands like Willy Chavarria, Lemaire, and Martine Rose. While each of these companies are vastly different, their disagreement with the constant movement of the zeitgeist can birth cult followings that last decades. Willy Chavarria shows a dedication to reframing the Mexican-American experience through clothes. In France, Lemaire continues to dictate the common definition of Parisian style globally, with a fixation on elegance. Simultaneously, Martine Rose continues to find ways to reshare the sentiment of 90’s London rave culture through fabric and image.

While each house is growing to become a household name, in no way has any of these brands used an individual as a vehicle to communicate their identity to their audience.

Beyond the aforementioned ateliers, I’m fond of the pattern making work happening at Evan Kinori, the growing array of shirting and tailoring offered at Bianca Saunders, and consistent work of Sacai every season.

“…boyhood and manhood consist of fascinations and hobbies, rooted in the ethos of stubborn consistency, and careful craft.”

Each house mentioned creates a range of clothing to live beyond the season of conception, with practicality and tangibility all in mind.

To me, boyhood and manhood consist of fascinations and hobbies, rooted in the ethos of stubborn consistency, and careful craft. From sports and cars, to wine and watches, a devotion to intention creates investment, and it's a pleasure to see a menswear landscape that reflects that.

Effective conversation is a marriage between intentional words and carefully chosen moments of silence, and to me, writing is no different. For two summers, creating new work felt almost obsolete. The media landscape began to feel like an echo chamber, made of shallow criticism and overconsumption. Prolonged phases of writer's block repositioned me as a student, searching to answer the question of what my purpose for writing is.

I started The Precedential from my college dorm room during my sophomore year of undergrad, intent on creating work that mends a void I felt existed in the industry. 

A few years after launch, I found myself mirroring the exact voices I planned to remedy. I did everything in my power to separate my name and personal identity from the brand. The website was full of articles consisting of clickbait ranked lists, reviews of the most commercially backed works and products, and even a change to short form Instagram stories to spoon feed information to my audience. 

I graduated into trying times in the media industry. In the process of looking for my first editorial job I watched many my favorite writers get laid off. Publications I once dreamed of working for were getting sold for far less than their previous evaluations. Legacy media companies began to veer away from print, and the overhead made the ground level seem less promising than ever.

From a place of being abundantly self assured, I found myself confronting a fear of the freedom I was once in search of as a writer. It was clear to me then that my publication’s identity was entirely too broad and needed refinement, and I looked everywhere but the mirror to find it.

I took a journey through the presumed safe route. I picked up an errandless bridge job while in search of opportunities to get bylines for a major publication. The schedule: morning call at 4:45 a.m., followed by an hour of exercise, an 8 hour shift, coming home to create a seed list for the publication, do job applications, send cold emails, meal prep, sleep and repeat. While order was maintained, it became increasingly mundane, and progress felt minimal. Though I was critical, the clarity of hindsight has taught me that I did gain a lot from this time period. 

The borderline robotic task based position I assumed allowed me to consume an absurd amount of media. I listened to any and everything during this time, doing week-long studies of legendary musical acts that preceded my existence, and listening to a range of conversations to expand my knowledge. Simultaneously, my collection of print magazines grew exponentially, and I made reading casually a priority again.

Beyond the extensive hours of research and development I gained, the opportunity to travel extended itself and I welcomed it with open arms.

Chicago was the first stop of my mini tour, a place that taught me the necessity of patience and intention. I gained an understanding of the cultural effects of architectural planning on a city. Being raised less than thirty miles outside of New York City, all I understood was the concept of building large and fast, with little to no regard for what you may obscure in the process. The Windy City is a beauty from all angles, and every mile is carefully considered both aesthetically and functionally. This level of care becomes more apparent in the identities of the people, and ultimately furthered my curiosity about architecture.

A week later I found myself in London, a city that consists of a range of ethnic identities. Walking the streets of Notting Hill during carnival was an honest showing of camaraderie, and I was impressed by the diverse intellect Londoners carry, in turn creating a harmonious melting pot of cultures. Street style was imperative, and personality was omnipresent in the city, but the overt reverence towards tradition was my ultimate takeaway.

In the days that followed I landed in Paris, a city that professes the existence of a genuine work-life balance, with an immense love for socialization, mostly through food and wine. I was the most amused to see how co-workers dined midday like distant family members, conversing and laughing for hours without a phone in sight, and not a person in a rush. My time in Paname was a reminder that life is to be enjoyed in abundance.

I took the high of my travels back to the rehab center of reality, and used the waning hours of my excitement to write again. Balance returned to me through penmanship, but I still didn’t quite have the answer to why I write.

A deep dive into my family history would be the ultimate teacher. I read about my late grandfather, whom I never had the pleasure of meeting. The late Francis Otieno Pala was a well traveled diplomat, who took a wealth of knowledge obtained globally back home to help form the public library system in Kenya.

Moments of intentional silence turned to clarity, and my why became abundantly clear.

I’ve spent a lifetime as a curious active observer of a range of humanities, constantly refining my knowledge to come to a place of understanding. The purpose of my work is to explore a definition of culture beyond consumption, and The Precedential, in all its phases, is the vehicle that exercises that intention.

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