VEEZE’S “GANGER” IS AN ADVENTURE THAT WOULD SHOCK HOMER

Veeze doesn’t give himself over to any certain Hip Hop style, concept, or era at any time on Ganger, his first album in four years. Ganger’s lyrics are organized as a drug-induced coma of shittalking, flexing, thoughts on a variety of partners, and babbles of abnormally boring dialogue with Lil Uzi Vert because, of course, he would. The rapper-turned-rockstar-turned-superstar Uzi casually drops a voicemail for Veeze that has the closeness of a close friend. Veeze is one of those persons you don’t say anything to. He always approaches things with a tint of mistrust and is well aware of fake exhibitionism.

Are they the antics of an unauthorized DJ-hosted mixtape featuring Lil Uzi Vert and bearing the Uzi remix of Veeze’s “GOMD” at the very end? Perhaps Veeze is a strung-out, shittalking parody of Drake on Take Care, as suggested by the album’s sequencing and voicemail skits. Or maybe Veeze and his group of producers filled a 16GB hard drive to the brim with 21 FLAC files and then leaked them to the public as Jai Paul did with Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones).

Whatever the reason, Veeze introduces himself to Ganger with a brief statement. He enters “Not a drill” every four measures while being greeted by four pounding, double-time bass drum kicks, repeating, “This ain’t a fire drill, n***a, this the real thing.” Veeze improvises to himself, effectively serving as his own echo, clearly referencing to phrases he considers forewarning while trumpets ring out in the background and hi-hats click.

The hi-hats even carry over to acoustic guitar love ballads like that of “Weekend,” where Veeze uses the strums of an acoustic guitar and slightly-metallic hits on a xylophone to grumble two emotionally-hardened verses, monotonously describing his stoicism that’s on the verge of collapsing.

On songs like the adrenaline-infused R&B of “Kinda $,” On songs like “LICK,” Veeze reveals more chinks in his armor while still trying to use humor as a crutch. He sings, “Pint sealed like my true feelings, stay bottled up/N***a watch your feelings, I don’t want you talking tough,” in the hopes that the fusion of colors in his cup and the syrup will offer something other than gloomy catharsis. The actual presentation of the record is the only part of Ganger that seems fake. In addition to the few skits, the “G.O.M.D. (Remix)” bonus track seems forced, the transitions are inconsistent, and names like “Unreleased leak” seem deceptive given Veeze’s first substantial body of work in four years.

Although Ganger’s mixing might be viewed as a musical compilation of Detroit’s rap culture, it is well ahead of its time in terms of Hip Hop. Veeze and his group of producers, which also includes Ddot, Pooh Beats, and Bass Kid, play with the notion of a little alteration in comparison to more experimental, electronic-leaning bands that alter the mixing of voices and instruments to distort their sound and make it difficult to recognize.

Veeze’s voice is either over- or under-emphasized on Ganger owing to the mixing, which causes his mumbles to either be drowned out by the music or dominated by it. The end product is a sound collage in which Veeze seems to have recycled each song’s individual elements. Veeze’s voice is amplified on tracks like “WHOda1” and “Weekend,” which portray a loving amity whether he is whispering jabs into your ear or revealing his insecurities too near to the microphone.

Veeze will forever remain Veeze. He is a master of none and gravely irresponsible. However, that is what gives Ganger such audacity. Veeze is eager to try anything; if he wants to create a raucous drill tune that is reminiscent of a Jersey club, he will. He will if he wants to create a pop song with a humorous call-and-response. “Pop star? “, he asks in the appropriately named “G.O.M.D.” I’m Justin Timberlake, bitch. We lean toward agreeing.