Review Summary: Laced up.
Travis Miller (aka Lil Ugly Mane) has described his collaboration with Richmond, Virginia native Nickelus F as “
[not] really an album as much as it is a compilation, [with] tracks [we] started and finished and started over and redid and reworked, forgot and remembered, lost and found.” LUM operating under the Shawn Kemp moniker, the already-legendary rapper/producer delivers a jumbled sound far-removed from his more signature style, yet still undeniably his. It’s messy, raw, and bridges LUM’s airtight production to the unpredictability of dark alleyways. Nickelus F is nimble enough to manoeuvre the eclectic production with a dynamic flow and numerous hooks. Nick’s bars strike a balance between street-hardened and erudite - smart as a whip, but weighed down with grimy realism that he refuses to compromise for pure flash. Miller (a professed fan of Nick’s) complements his gritty approach with equally hard-hitting beats.
Opener “Oedipus Rex” blends neo-noir surrealism with boom bap, and Nick tags in Mane to co-host the intro. Both rappers have a different M.O. - LUM being more philosophical, Nick being more to-the-point - but they assert their dominance equally, and you can see their brotherhood take form. Follow-up “Da Reaper” sees the latter MC waging inner war, acknowledging that his aspirations could easily overcome his sanctity: “
I pray that I make a lotta money and I get to see the world before the reaper take my soul.” Other lines are more frank, like on “Gold Figaro”; when Nick professes, “
everywhere I go I got a ho on my dick / no, I don’t like it, I LOVE that shit,” he says it stone-facedly, delivering one of
Trick Dice's best hooks. Different in tone, closer “Bathory Motives” is gutting, as Nick half-raps a blunt monologue, calling out soft, hollow MCs. He puts on no airs, and when he says, “
rap ain’t for you, bitch / go get a fuckin job / use your degree / you are not a rapper, motherfucker,” it doesn’t come from a place of pure cynicism; his words are those of experience. When the track winds down, F sums up his ascent to success, yet sounds hungrier than ever.
Beneath Nickelus F’s rawness are countless nuances - punchlines and subtle hooks. Equally intricate are Kemp’s contributions, as each track is finely-crafted and diverse (though the chopped-and-screwed “Lucid” is negligible). “D.S.L.S” is infectious, with catchy xylophones, trap snares, horns, and stop-start rhythms. “Clusterfuck” has grim undertones brought to surface with enchanting piano lines, while Nickelus laments, “
I’m from the dark side of the sun / where guardian angels don’t come / and the roaches and rats don’t run” - it’s one of many lyrical standouts. Furthermore, it’s one of many moments where the duo mesh perfectly. Though
Trick Dice lacks the ambitious scope of Miller’s other recent projects, its the-hell-with-it attitude and vivid imagery make it refreshing. It’s a loose collage of a rise to fortune, reinforced by the wisdom dealt by inescapable responsibility. Miller also describes the project as reminiscent of “
the rap music that you make in your head instead of doing homework.” Though the pair have by all accounts “made it,” they’re forever on their toes, scribbling and doodling. It’s a force of habit.
