Residing in Harlem but transplanted from Oakland, rapper Gita (pronounced Gee-tuh) is somewhat of an enigma. She migrated to New York 4 years ago and chose to remain despite an adverse welcome. She declines to detail this experience, coyly saying, “That’s a cover story,” but this coyness is momentary.

“I grew up on a street in Oakland where three of my childhood friends died from crack because their parents left it on the table,” she soberly reveals. Gleefully donning oversized overalls and sporting hot pink hair during our interview, Gita looks like a big kid. In fact, her current style is a continuation of habits cultivated during her childhood. “I always had the different crazy hairstyles and clothes. I used to wear princess outfits to school,” she boasts. Nevertheless, despite her childlike appearance, Gita is not stuck in some naively nostalgic understanding of the past. She personally knows that her cherished 90s were both times of joy and times of pain.

Her upcoming EP is titled Escaping the Dream World, but it’s not about ushering in a wave of stark realism, definitively choosing the pain of the past over its joys. Quite contrarily, Escaping the Dream World is about making the joys, the dreams, more real.

Gita’s current dream – being a rapper – is already quite real. Despite having so few songs out that she has a video for every song that she’s released (4, counting “Lights Out,” her first big video, filmed on the same day she quit her job to become a full-time rapper), Gita has quite a buzz, one so loud that it once got her booked in China! How is that possible?

Gita herself has an answer: “There’s not a lot of females. I think there’s a huge hunger right now for females to be on the stage and on the scene. I get people from all around the world who hit me up and love me and want to come to my shows when they happen and want to buy merch and want to buy music.” Gita humbly frames her buzz as a product of supply and demand, but there’s more to the story.

As implied by her ability to comfortably rock overalls and pink hair, Gita is characterized by a level of confidence that fosters rather than hinders her artistry. This confidence allows her to “play with her image” without causing anxiety. Her playfulness is on full display in her videos, which typically feature her in a range of costumes, each more spectacular than the last. For instance, in the video for her song “Hood Rich,” she effortlessly oscillates between harajuku wear and street clothes.

In a world and a genre plagued by rampant misogyny, such confidence doesn’t come easy. Gita’s willingness to comfortably tinker with her image has multiple origins, notably her grandmother, who she calls “the radical Black girl.” Gita’s grandmother grew up “in both segregation and a time where women had to wear skirts, you couldn’t cut your hair shirt, you couldn’t smoke cigarettes, you couldn’t sit at the bar, you couldn’t talk up if your husband was beating on you or cheating on you.” Pressingly, her grandmother had a husband that she would iron and wash clothes for, “knowing that he was going to see another woman.” “I don’t like that. I don’t like that,” Gita emphasizes, visibly disgusted.

What Gita does like is “girl power.” “When women really come together and cut the cattiness and the bullshit, I think we can really be on some next level shit and we can make tsunamis, not waves,” she says with hope.

While that tsunami of solidarity slowly(?) approaches shore, Gita is focused on further developing her music, which she believes is still in an “embryonic stage.” But as indicated by her goofy demeanor and retro fashion, she’s in no rush to grow up. Despite an appearance on Loosies, last year’s compilation album by Fools Gold Records, Gita is voluntarily unsigned, seeking to make big moves strategically rather than reflexively.

Plus, she’s got plenty of songs in the vault. She and DJ Two Stacks, the producer of literally half of her released songs (and Kreayshawn’s “Gucci Gucci”), have got a few songs queued up for a future mixtape; Gita assures us that these songs are “darker and deeper” than anything she’s released so far. It remains to be seen (or heard) what exactly that means, but Escaping the Dream World is coming soon, so perhaps we’ll have a clue.

The post Exclusive Interview: Gita, Raised in Oakland, Paid in New York appeared first on RESPECT. | The Photo Journal of Hip-Hop Culture.

Although braggadocio and hyperbole are essentially the pillars of contemporary rap, for some people Kreayshawn takes them “too far.” The popular way of dealing with her is to dismiss her as the troubling product of rap’s irresponsible excesses. For the adherents of this narrative, after years of trivializing serious social realities, rap is finally being “punished” by the presence of a rapper who has not even the slightest claim to “authenticity.” For these people, Kreayshawn is like the bastard child of Rick Ross. This is a comforting and convenient narrative, but it just isn’t true. Both Kreayshawn’s story and Somethin’ ‘Bout Kreay, Kreayshawn’s debut album, makes this wholly apparent.

The reality is that Kreayshawn, despite the alluring appearance of difference, is actually quite average. Her album begins with “Blasé Blasé,” a fitting title for the indifference she exudes throughout the album. The instrumental, which is slightly reminiscent of LL Cool J’s “Control Myself,” has much promise, but Kreayshawn’s static flow yawns over the beat, inducing instant lethargy. The lyrics are not awful, but even the chorus is not particularly memorable. She raps, “Can’t hear haters, blasé blasé,” but then she dedicates three verses to insulting these generic haters. Apparently she’s not as deaf as she thinks.

“Blasé Blasé” is a yawnfest, but the next song, “Ch00k Ch00k Tare,” livens things up. Nodding to her Russian roots with some lines in Russian, Kreayshawn teams up with fellow artist Chippy Nonstop and producer Free School to come up with a song that’s half early M.I.A. and half “???” The result is mellow, but fresh. Kreayshawn’s flow still lacks enthusiasm, but for this song, it doesn’t matter. Kreay Kreay’s breakout hit “Gucci Gucci” comes next, bringing some much-needed energy to the album. “Gucci Gucci” is probably where Kreayshawn is most memorable. Rapping about selling Adderall over a sample of her own lyrics, she effortlessly dismisses rap’s favorite luxury brands. There’s something subversive about that.

Sadly, “Gucci Gucci” is the highlight of the album. The following tracks have fantastic instrumentals (particularly “Left Ey3” and “Like or Love It”), but Kreayshawn’s indifferent flow starts to become literally tiresome. Her lyrics don’t really help either. “You trying to play me like a boss but you’re finna take a big loss” is something even Rick Ross couldn’t pull off without a grimace (or grin). “Breakfast” and “BFF” are some particularly insufferable tracks. On the former, 2 Chainz makes one of his least memorable guest appearances of the year. The chorus features food items – “I got that juice, cheese, bread, breakfast – yet neither artist sounds hungry. On “BFF” Kreayshawn use auto-tune in precisely the way Jay-Z despises.

Admittedly, not everything that follows “Gucci Gucci” is so bad. On “Twerkin’ ” Diplo kind of recycles some of the effects he used for M.I.A.’s “XR2,” but he and Kreayshawn definitely succeed in making a decent dance song. The only strange thing about the song is when Kreayshawn says “Twerkin!”; her tone is very ambiguous, almost sarcastic. Are strippers not her thing? Or is she ambivalent about them? Is she even being sarcastic? There’s no way to know, but it’s such a distinct line, kind of like the guy that says “Toasty!” in Mortal Kombat games. “The Ruler” is also not so bad. The song is all about gold and ends up being cheesy at times, but it’s cheesy in such an honest, fun way that all is forgiven. Flow-wise, she sounds like M.I.A. on this track, but delivery-wise, she sounds like she’s having so much fun. There’s a difference.

In the end, Somethin’ ‘Bout Kreay proves that there’s kind of nothing about Kreay [musically, at least]. She has a good ear for beats and is definitely fun to listen to at times, but when it comes to rapping, she’s very unenthusiastic and kind of generic. One can rap without enthusiasm – Earl Sweatshirt does it all the time and Lupe Fiasco did it for “Bitch Bad” – but for Kreayshawn it doesn’t seem like an aesthetic choice; it just comes across as blasé, indifferent. Kreayshawn came into the game as a director and editor for music videos. She should probably get back to her roots.

The post Review: <em>Somethin’ Bout Kreay</em> appeared first on RESPECT. | The Photo Journal of Hip-Hop Culture.