Kweku Collins - Grey EP

Pitchfork 76

Up to this point, Kweku Collins has subsisted in shades of grey. His music slides between abstract poetry and melodic rap over production that extracts elements from several genres; he’s biracial, and he’s from Evanston, Ill., a town that almost lets you say you’re from Chicago. His latest project, the self-produced and aptly titled Grey EP, is actually more metallic, reflecting back an artist on the precipice of something great.

In the year since the release of 2016 standout Nat Love, Collins has been on a steady ascent. He’s traveled the world touring, soundtracked an episode of Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “Black Panther” and, perhaps, found that backup plans are overrated. In nine tracks, Grey examines the life of a 20-year-old just about ready to break into something big. Collins isn’t looking for his voice so much as finding out exactly what he can do with it—it distorts and groans, speeds up and slows down, plays the background and commands the spotlight. He achieves a strikingly cohesive result considering the assortment of subjects and sounds Collins broaches throughout.

”International Business Trip,” the EP’s lead single, is a woozy journey to the faraway places his success has taken him. “I’m just a 20-something thinking ’bout my early years/Thinking how two years ago I couldn’t buy a 20 sack,” he raps, nodding to “Niggas in Paris” as his own fulfilled prophecy. Like his travels, Collins’ brand of rap is borderless. Kid Cudi’s and OutKast’s aesthetic influences are revealed in the melodies, hums and artistically offbeat flows that highlight Grey, but the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are also here. The ethereal “Oasis2: Maps” reimagines the band’s “Maps,” replacing the guitars with sparkling piano. Collins’ voice feels made for this; the layered echoes and bittersweet lyrics create their own drama as he sings “maybe this time will be different/ain’t that what they always say.” Elsewhere, Sylvie Grace’s cello threatens to unseat the flute as rap’s instrument of the moment, as she transforms “Youaintshit (Shine On)” into a majestic minimalist dream.

The Afro-Latin percussive styles he learned from his father and the spoken word of his past seem to inform much of Collins’ style. The drums have a calming, almost tribal feel on “Aya,” which features fellow Midwestern rhymer Allan Kingdom. The sublime combination of background vocalizations and airy synths on “Jump.i” have a similar effect. The song is sonically dense; the verse is colorful and indefinite, demanding several listens as Collins claims his own light and encourages others to find their own.

“While things crumble around us/We build again” are Collins’ final words on the EP—a reminder, perhaps, of the ongoing work to be done and the opportunities that rebuilding affords. It’s the kind of awareness that comes with existing on the fringes, and while Collins’ story has been underscored by the notion of outsiderism, there’s so much freedom to be found there. Adhering to expectations is optional, and the power of definition lies in the hands of the individual who has found a comfortable space as an outlier. Grey is rap on its own terms, its name an acknowledgment of Collins’ own self-awareness and further evidence that the misfits can be some of the most liberated among us.