Grammy Nominated artist Tierra Whack dropped her long-awaited project this month titled World Wide Whack. This album is emotionally rich capturing Tierra’s natural vocals over solid beats. The rapper and songwriter took a darker turn on this EP; the lyrics offer an introspective dialogue on taboo topics. Fittingly, the first track’s title is “Mood Swing.” Tierra sings leisurely about dreams of getting rich to escape her social tensions. The song flows right into “Ms. Behave” where Whack brags of riotous behavior accompanied by polyphonic production. It’s an upbeat, rebellious track that I’m sure will be the soundtrack to some fashion runway. Another upbeat track is “X”, which gives a revenge theme for girls and “gworls” who may be feeling spicy about a recent breakup.
Outside of those catchy, danceable songs, the rest of the album gets more edgy. There’s a strangely common theme on her songs “Difficult”, “27 Club”, and “Two Night.” All three give a first-hand perspective of the deepest points of depression that have left her feeling at her lowest. They are poetic and bluesy with raw emotion. These songs bring up sensitive moments of extreme stress, depravity, masking, and other emotional episodes that were difficult for her to get through.
“Burning Brains” features a tempt that’s about as slow as you can get without turning into screw. It makes sense considering the song is about being drained by a controlling partner who is never satisfied. Tierra’s soft, blasé vocals are paired with Macy Gray styled hooks and low muffled chorus. So many fitting details that flow seamlessly with her downbeat mood. “Two Night” was cleverly written to be a down to earth declaration of what she wants her friends and family to know before she passes away. “Numb” is a sorrowful song of regretful reflection. She sings candidly about wanting to change things in her childhood and current mistakes she wishes she could fix.
Tierra wrote this from a place of deep pain that shows her capacity for self-awareness and emotional intelligence, acknowledging where her traumas began. Although many of her songs speak of death, depression and heartache, the lyrics are relatable for people who enjoy transparency or have experienced forms of rejection, loss or ever battled with low self-esteem. There’s a bit of comic relief, thankfully, on tracks like “Imaginary Friends” that describes her subconscious sidekick who helps her cope with dark times; and “Shower Song” where we hear her defeat her seasonal depression with, drumroll, a shower.
“Snake Eyes” is easily the hardest song on the album. The pretty piano chords lead into an unexpected bass drop before Tierra goes in with a confident flow. When she’s not rapping, Whack artfully turns indifferent tones into tuneful melodies that are intoxicating with what I would describe as radical lo-fi. Her voice is easy going and every song is endlessly playable. Her bars are creative and eclectic and her ability to use her differing vocal inflections add a ton of personality to every track. She did a great job painting a theatrical picture of deep-seeded emotions most artists never admit to.
World Wide Whack is a solid album, one of its kind. Eight of Ten.
