Review Summary: A revelation...
When God sent Yeezus to die for our sins, it was already foretold that suburban boys throughout the United States would reappropriate his production and drop corny bars over rumbling 808s to mixed results. Thus, when Brockhampton hit the scene in 2017 with
Saturation, the NEETs rejoiced and hailed their new saviors as if the prophecies were fulfilled. Really though, Brockhampton were only John the Baptist of corny suburban boy rap, and only now, in the year 2024, has Christ finally come down to absolve us: His name is Joey Valence and Brae. Two zoomers, one rap collective, come to bless the nigh-pubescent Gen-A hooligans of tomorrow with righteous, riotous self-produced bangers.
And, lemme tell you,
No Hands absolutely
b a n g s. Joey and Brae’s zoomer impatience serves these songs well, with a spastic production sense that prioritizes ever-evolving beats and an old school sensability to form
No Hands’ robust backbone. Really, the production is so ridiculous, overblown and entertaining that Joey and Brae only need to avoid embarrassing themselves with any strange bars to make
No Hands a success; a potential fail condition that Joey and Brae address by making the whole album embarrassing. Besides their musical chops, Joey and Brae know their lane. Faux-tough lines delivered alongside tongue-in-cheek video game references ground what could come off as try-hard and inauthentic by leaning into unabashed corn. Similarly, a push pull between inane zoomerisms, unwavering braggadocio, and a dash of self-deprecating humor gives the album an earnest charm that Brockhampton were always too toxic to achieve. Lines such as “And I failed statistics… But I aced sex-ed!” or “John Cena the way I bing chilling” or “She wanna see my party trick, it's not a watch it’s an Omnitrix” are played straight enough to succeed but with just enough of a wink and a nod to let you know Joey and Brae are in on their own joke.
Still, that does not mean that joke can’t run old. More than Kanye or even Brockhampton,
No Hands is indebted to the Beastie Boys for its identity. This means that, despite occupying a relatively open niche, nothing Joey or Brae are doing is really all that groundbreaking, and, at times, it's even redundant. Several lines are repeated, particularly “Eat a booty with a side of fries” and “I’m a double gulp, you’re a kiddie cup”, but these are fortunately reserved to filler cuts “INTERMISSION 2” and “WHAT U NEED”, two songs which do little besides melting into their surroundings. Still, these are minor nitpicks and the majority of
No Hands’ thirty one minute runtime is fat free and fun as hell. While the group wisely refrain from appropriating black culture or aesthetics, they still pick ideas from throughout hip hop history to bolster what might be dismissed as “Beastie Boys with a modern sheen” otherwise. Back-half club banger “THE BADDEST” confidently borrows Lil Jon’s bombastic shout-flow to craft an absolute booty bouncer of a chorus, while Joey Valence’s clear affinity for A Tribe Called Quest shines throughout in his flow and sample choice. Toss in a feature from Danny Brown (this guy will show up on anything huh?) and you have the suburban rager of the year.
There’s simply no other way to sell
No Hands other than that it is a complete blast. Sure, it wears its influences on its sleeves. Fine, the two kids who self produced this thing are still kinda childish. And okay, maybe it plays a little too one-note and may age a little poorly. None of these things matter right now though because Joey and Brae are two kids on a mission to bring as much fun to hip hop as they can. Hop on or get left behind.
