![Rae-Sremmurd_Sremm-Life_Front-Cover_PH_ex[1]_1](http://thedmonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Rae-Sremmurd_Sremm-Life_Front-Cover_PH_ex1_1.jpg)
Rae Sremmurd has no appeal. The group’s name itself is a tongue twister, derived from backwards spellings of “ear” and “drummers,” a nod to the Ear Drummers recording imprint in which the duo calls home. Fans, coincidentally, find difficulty pronouncing the consonant sound comprised from the “S-R” in their stage name.
Like previous rap acts, such as Travis Porter or Tanya Morgan, many rap listeners even have trouble discerning if “Rae” is in fact one person. Brothers, Khalif “Swae Lee” Brown and Aaquil “Slim Jimmy” Brown, seem to be interested in stacking odds against themselves.
Within the yearlong campaign leading up to their debut album “SremmLife,” they overcame those odds. Bolstered by the help of producer and labelhead, Mike WiLL Made-It and two similarly titled singles “No Flex Zone” and “No Type,” the boys won over American hip-hop hearts. The two Tupelo, Mississippi, emcees play to their key strength: energy.
The group, formerly known as Dem Outta St8 Boyz, showcased their amped-up antics when they returned to their home state of Mississippi for a show last October at The Lyric Oxford. Having then only released a handful of songs under their new moniker, the brothers vaulted across the stage interpolating chants of “Hotty Toddy!” into new material, yet to be released to the public.
They specialize in an endearing mix of boyhood mischief; not unlike the kind that characterized episodes of “Leave it to Beaver!” Except, the Brown brothers’ idea of good clean fun comes in the form of songs like “Safe Sex, Pay Checks.” The album closer is a commercial for controlled mayhem, wrapped in light-hearted synths that sound lifted from a Flo-Rida or Black Eyed Peas performance. It’s a straight-faced version of The Lonely Island’s comedy-rap single “We’re On a Boat.” Opening with the spoken ad-lib, “We just wanna party,” the song, although placed at the end of the album, feels more fitting as a preamble in a crunk constitution.
Although composed by two sons of Mississippi, the “SremmLife” falls a bit further away from the tree that other Magnolia State acts like David Banner and Big K.R.I.T. hang on. Instead, the album plays like an homage, blending the current trap melodies of Atlanta artists like Future with the strip club-ready drums of the early 2000s Georgia scene, led by Lil’ Jon & the Eastside Boyz affiliates such as Lil’ Scrappy and Ying Yang Twinz.
Swae Lee asserts himself on each track as a star, delivering rap verses that feature rapid-fire flows along with choruses that allow him to sing sincerely about topics that would cause most to blush. It isn’t every day that someone commits a singing voice to words like “Some body come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper,” or the Twitter meme-inspired “This could be us, but you playing.”
Unfortunately, the boys leave very little to be desired in the realm of lyrical complexity. Most of their songwriting boils down to a brag-fest.
When they aren’t listing the diverse amount of expensive tags, they are prone to pop off high-end Celine, Givenchy and Fendi clothing items. They often are punctuating quips about foreign cars with onomatopoeia outburst “skrrt” to signify leaving their competition in a haze of exhaust fumes and smoke. When more experienced rhymesayers like Big Sean and, even the borderline incoherent, Young Thug arrive to deliver guest verses, they remove the memory of whatever the last-appearing Brown brother had to say.
However, Rae Sremmurd, aren’t inept at attempting dexterity.
In the midst of their party-based rhymes, they approach human emotion. They contextualize their braggadocio by detailing their brush with poverty in “Yno.” Immediately following their first single, anthem dedicated to refraining from flexing and flaunting, they fire back at scorned lovers with “My X,” wishing their success serves as a hurtful reminder of what-could-have-been.
Beyond the vocal acrobats of Lee and Jimmy, the unsung star of the show is the production, anchored by Mike WiLL. The maestro lends his talents to seven of the album’s 11 tracks. The producer, who is known as much for holding down Atlanta street artists, Gucci Mane and Future, as he is for orchestrating Miley Cyrus hits “We Can’t Stop” and his own “23.” He toys around with fresh sounds on “SremmLife,” utilizing Elton John-style piano rock on “This Could Be Us” and off-kilter organs on “No Type.”
Over beats this invigorating, lyrics wouldn’t even matter. Rae Sremmurd simply sweetens the pot by devising catchy records that are sure to supplement their increasing star power.
“SremmLife” has no context. Much like the marquee performers on its album have no appeal. “SremmLife” is the context. “SremmLife” is the party. Anyone attempting to play it in any other setting will simply start a party. Rae Sremmurd simply leaves you no other choice.
