'Pray for Paris' - Westside Gunn: Album Review

Westside Gunn is an unusual rapper. After years of mixtapes, the Buffalo native released his 2016 debut album FLYGOD at the mature age of 34 on his co-founded record label Griselda Records, before they subsequently joined forces with Eminem’s Shady Records a year later. Fast forward to 2020 and Gunn’s latest album, Pray for Paris, stems from his first venture outside the United States to attend Paris Fashion Week, where Griselda had curated the soundtrack for Virgil Abloh’s ‘Off-White’ collection. Whilst there is synonymy between hip-hop and fashion, the timing of Gunn’s career achievements is peculiar. Gunn, and his brother Conway, were the first rappers from Buffalo to sign with a major record label, and they did so as very late-bloomers with a sound that harks back to a distant sound of rap. It’s a strange and anomalous recipe for success in modern hip-hop, but it seems to be working for the duo and Pray for Paris seems to be the last piece of the puzzle to boost them into hip-hop stardom.

The tone of Westside Gunn, and Griselda as a whole, is so clearly influenced by 1990s East Coast hip-hop in almost every way. This is probably unexpected – Gunn was born in New York in 1982 and grew up alongside the evolution of hip-hop – but the impact of this era is so clearly heard in his work. There are tales of the streets, gritty instrumentals, guns, violence – all the classic themes touched upon by New York staples like Nas, Wu-Tang and Grandmaster Flash. The album’s concept of juxtaposing wealth and capitalism alongside poverty and societal roots is a well-documented subject, but the Parisian setting does give the album a new take.

Although this sounds critical, it could be argued that it is necessary. The modern hip-hop listener did not experience the progression of the genre during this period and the cultural link between what was and what is has slowly faded. With rappers such as Lil Yachty rising to fame without ever listening to Biggie Smalls and dubbing him ‘overrated’, it could be important for both artists and fans of a newer generation to understand how we got to where we are now in hip-hop. Pray for Paris does this extremely well, implementing features from modern rappers like Tyler, The Creator, Joey Bada$$ and Freddie Gibbs on ‘classic’ East Coast beats. It is an accessible cultural lesson in the development of hip-hop and bridges the gap between generations of rap fans.

There is so much about this album that is excellent. The frequent use of piano exemplifies both optimistic and rose-tinted views of romance in Paris on ‘French Toast’ alongside the menacing and paranoid sound of ‘George Bondo’. The melancholic and soulful ‘327’, named after the New Balance shoe and featuring the aforementioned Tyler and Joey, perfectly highlights the rags to riches concept that builds the album’s foundation and the featured combination over the beautiful beat is truly breath-taking. The instantly recognisable production and scratching of DJ Premier on ‘Shawn vs. Flair’ demonstrates the legendary beat-maker in his prime, representing every part of his repertoire that makes him so revered. Westside Gunn’s aim was to bring back the type of hip-hop that means so much to him and he does it is extremely well, showing that, when done right, the sound is timeless.

However, there is one glaring flaw throughout this album. I had noticed it on the Free Nationals song ‘The Rivington’, featuring the Griselda duo, and it is prevalent throughout Pray for Paris. Westside Gunn is a horrendously bad rapper. Without any shadow of a doubt, one of the worst I have heard in years. It amazes me that there are so many brilliant creatives from all kinds of artistic industries that endorse this man. His flow is more basic and repetitive than I thought possible, often sounding like the ramblings of an old man babbling on to an uninterested listener. His voice is as whiny as a baby’s cry for attention and the sound of him screeching ‘nineteen’ on ‘Allah Sent Me’ haunts me even when I’m not listening to it. His lyrics do paint an interesting picture, but they are the same clichés over and over again that become boring well before the album finishes. He claims that he recorded the vocals for ‘Shawn vs. Flair’ in 15 minutes and I do not doubt that for a second, as they are verbally copied and pasted from every other song on the album. But by far the most unbearable part is the adlibs. The constant ‘brrrrrrrrrrrr’ and ‘boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom’ have surely got to be contenders for the worst adlibs in the history of hip-hop, and they appear in every song. Either Gunn is trying to distract the listener from how bad he is at his profession, or he is trying to teach aspiring musicians how to ruin any good song they might have made.

If this album had no Westside Gunn on it, it would probably be the best album I have heard this year. There are so many parts to this album that make it brilliant, but the main star crashes through like a drunk actor messing up his lines and ruins the whole thing. If Gunn was to become a music producer or curator in the ilk of Jimmy Iovine or DJ Khaled, I am sure he would be one of the best in the business. It takes a lot of skill to collect such a talented group of musicians and get so much from them. There is only so much that the supporting cast can do for a project. It needs the main attraction to bring it to the next level and tie each piece together. It is a shame that Gunn is the downfall to his own masterpiece.