WSH's Songs of the Year 2017

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And we’re back.

Happy Holidays, good people. I guess this is an actual gimmick now? Themed lists are fairly easy to do as one-offs, and I’d assume there’s always some excitement to try doing it again. “Third annual” sounds really official, I think. Besides, we all know the internets are clamoring for another year’s edition … maybe.

No guests this year — just me. (Here’s your chance to tiptoe out the back door.) Per the title, this year’s piece will be far less “scientific” than the first two. I’m way too behind on music to pretend like I’m some sort of expert this year, so consider this a list of my personal favorites. I mean, I think I know a little bit about song construction and stuff, so I’d hope nobody sees this and finds me completely insane for some of these choices. As always, I take this project as seriously as I (think I) should, and I’d love to get your feedback on my picks and even see your “best songs” lists, as well.

Let’s get it going.

Wooooo I’m old.

I’ve been trying to find the perfect frame for this essay in particular, and I think my slog toward senior citizenry just might be the one. For a litany of reasons — chief among them an inability to realistically imagine what my life would be like at age 25 — 13-year-old me would never imagine that one of my closest friends would make a song this good. We were all supposed to be playing professional basketball somewhere! And I used to be the singer of the group! If any of us were hoping to pursue music as a career, forgive me for never anticipating it’d be the one who I for sure knew would be someone’s starting shooting guard by now.

But maybe I should’ve known?

About 15 years ago, Jalen Crawford and I began as new fifth-grade students at the Alonzo W. Bates Academy for the Gifted & Talented in Detroit. We became sort-of fast friends, rooted in our love of hoop and, frankly, because we didn’t know anyone else, but our similarities generally ended there: I, a milquetoast nerd who spent 4 days a week at church, based my hip-hop knowledge around which music videos BET most frequently put in rotation; Jalen, the youngest scion of a bourgeoning Detroit basketball dynasty, could quote rap records I’d never even heard before. My parents wanted me at Bates for the academics, but I probably needed that school more for cultural reasons than anything related to classroom learning. My first year at Bates, Jalen was one of my very few consistent friends, and he also just-so happened to be hip to a ton of the things that intrigued me but I knew zero about. For a kid trying to break free from semi-strict parents, his friendship was invaluable.

(This is the nicest I’ve ever been to Jalen, for the record. We’re never this kind to each other in-person.)

A couple years ago, when Jalen adopted the moniker Willie Mac Jr. (in honor of his grandfather) and began dabbling in music, I’ll say I was optimistically concerned. Homie’s always had a good ear for music — tangentially, he claims to be the reason I’m a JAY-Z stan today; I remember differently, but I digress — but if every musician with a good ear and a decent pen got a record deal, I think the music market would be just a little oversaturated. Not once did I doubt the talent, but as a friend, I wondered if the investment would ever be worth the potential rewards.

My brother’s for sure on his way. I know I’ve spent the bulk of this piece writing about our friendship, but I only need about 75 words to express how dope this song continues to be. Everything’s a vibe nowadays, but “Dance Willie” is ridiculously infectious. Listen to his first few records — which I personally like — and you can hear the growth in his flow and his lyrics. “Why should I listen? / We moved downtown before the Pistons” is such a glorious stunt, my Lord. That line has been stuck in my head for months. Forgive the convenient comparison, but it’s analogous to GoldLink's “Crew” in so many ways: “Dance Willie” is the manifesto of a mid-20s black man loyal to his city and his friends, and he’s determined to make something of himself while remaining true to his roots. And he’s doing it legally. And the music’s good!

Should you find my perspective too biased, Westside Willie’s already been featured by Karen Civil, BET Jams, and WorldStarHipHop. For the release of his latest project Stop & Smell the Roses, he hosted a Christmas Eve listening party in the midst of a blizzard. Yet, after he'd already performed “Dance Willie” back-to-back, I kind-of found myself wanting another encore, and so did everyone else in the room. The song’s a hit. My brother’s about to be a player in this music business. Might as well get hip to the movement now.

I’m extremely proud of my brother’s drive and vision, and I’m especially excited to give him a “coveted” spot on my year-end list. Can’t say I saw this coming all those years ago, but hey. Rap game crazy.

GoldLink isn’t actually talking to anyone on “Meditation,” right?

Wait, let me rephrase. He’s talking to a young lady, but not really. Most guys (and probably ladies, too) know exactly what’s happening here: our young protagonist made eye contact with the most beautiful woman in the room, and now he’s clueless on what to do next.

Don’t believe me? Read the first verse — it’s a list of stuff not to say to someone during your first conversation. We’re hearing the ramblings of a man terrified to shoot his shot; if telling a woman you’d like to beat up her ex-boyfriend and have a daughter with her within the first 30 seconds of meeting has gotten you far before, more power to you, I suppose? I don’t see that as a winning play, but what do I know?

“Meditation” was bound to be sonically amazing — it features one of the greatest voices of our generation (which Jazmine Sullivan absolutely is) and a criminally underrated producer in KAYTRANADA — but the song truly owes its brilliance to the empathy factor. At What Cost resonates with me for reasons I may or may not enumerate during next week's "best albums" conversation, but "Meditation" exists as a pensive, contemplative moment on an otherwise belligerent album. I completely feel his pain, and I’m one-hundred percent certain I’m not alone. I’ve always been jealous of the folks confident enough to pursue the person they’ve been eyeing. These pre-conversations often lead nowhere, the hypothetical back-and-forth the only dialogue we have the courage to initiate. Maybe she’ll come over to you? Maybe, if you keep talking to yourself, you’ll find the requisite confidence to let her know you’re interested? You overthink in fear of embarrassing yourself, only to miss out altogether. It’s never not depressing in the moment, but you convince yourself of next time. And one of those next time’s, you’ll actually say something, and it won’t be embarrassing.

But this time, watching her from across the room will have to do. “Meditation” is good for you. Literally and figuratively.

Kendrick’s stories are the absolute best.

I’ve always loved rap as a storytelling device, and my all-time favorites have always been able to make me feel like I was standing right beside them at the exact moment they’re currently describing. “Kick, Push” is nowhere near my favorite Lupe Fiasco song, but it’s where I realized nobody his age could rap like him; The Cool as a concept album is still an idea I wish he’d leaned into more. At age 48, JAY-Z’s still painting very vivid pictures — on “Marcy Me,” he’s describing a Bulls-Pistons playoff series from 3 years before I existed; yet, I conjure this image of Isiah Thomas guarding Michael Jordan that I’m sure happened in real-time. Writing is hard enough (trust me, I know.) As a fellow aspiring storyteller, it’s always fun to read or hear something I wished I’d thought of first.

Any and all of DAMN. could’ve made this list’s cut (“ELEMENT”., “LOYALTY.”, and “HUMBLE.” nearly did), but “LUST.” exists as the most fun story on the album, and that’s clearly for a reason. Not to step on next week’s DAMN. essay — spoiler alert: DAMN. is one of my top-5 albums this year, never could’ve guessed that one — but “LUST.” is the axis upon which this album rotates. Listening to DAMN. front-to-back? Lust has been Kendrick’s issue the entire time — coveting material things in the pursuit of happiness, only to recognize none of it ultimately matters. Listening in reverse order? “LUST.” is where things begin falling apart for Kendrick, his bragging about losing expensive jewelry and bouncing city-to-city for more millions taking on a much more sinister tone. It’s a neat trick, one Lupe used to pull with ease: there’s a clear moral to this song, but it’s up to you to figure out what it is. And it might not be the same for everyone. At no point does Kendrick make “LUST.” sound boring; on the contrary, I’d love to experience both vignettes in the first verse and Kendrick’s personal testimony in the second. But is it good for you? Now that’s an entirely different conversation.

My favorite part of the song? The second part of that final verse:

We all woke up, tryna tune to the daily news

Looking for confirmation, hoping election wasn’t true

All of us worried, all of us buried in our feelings deep

None of us married to his proposal, make us feel cheap

Still and sad, distraught and mad, tell the neighbors ‘bout it

Bet they agree, parade the streets with their voice proudly

Time pass, and things change

Revert back to our daily program; stuck in our ways

LUST.

I love the reverse psychology. Every time I hear this song, it’s a reminder to not accept these current conditions as they are. But it’s also a universal call to not behave so lustfully — to consider the collective good over our individual impulses. Will Kendrick’s pleas actually make a discernible change? The cynic in me wants to say no. 

But everybody loves a good groove. And damn, “LUST.” is groovy.

Is this controversial?

Trav’s been on a roll with me the last three years. I’m biased. I’m also willing to acknowledge that slotting “Butterfly Effect” in at silver is my way of giving him this year’s MVP award. I’m not used to this much Travis Scott output — once he released Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight last September, I assumed he’d be taking 2017 off, save for some extended Birds-related promo. To my surprise, he’s been everywhere; I’m fairly certain I first heard his features on 2 Chainz’s “4AM” and SZA’s “Love Galore” back-to-back, at which point I vocally questioned what exactly he was up to. From that point until last week’s release of the incredible Huncho Jack, Jack Huncho, Travis has been more active than folks who released major-label projects (whatever that means anymore) this calendar year. Only once I started compiling my favorite songs this year did I recognize just how much this year belonged to him. Bigger names definitely dropped high-quality content in 2017, but quantity ain’t so bad if the stuff’s quality, too.

Yet of my favorites, “Butterfly Effect” is the clear standout, three minutes and eleven seconds of a soundscape only Travis can create in 2017. I wish I could expound more eloquently about what makes Trav so unique, but I honestly don't have the words; simply put, I’ve always admired his ability to make his voice and bars work on these beats, beats other folks likely wouldn’t be able to handle. “Butterfly Effect” is one of those instrumentals, no? It's the quintessential Travis Scott song: Cudi-like shapeshifting throughout the track, Trav's random, silly adlibs coming in from every which way. Which other rapper can you imagine on this song? Better question: which other rapper do you even want to hear on this beat? (Only answer I have is Quayonce, and that’s for my own selfish reasons.)

Another year, another top-10 appearance for Cactus Jack. Trav is really a one-of-one, man. Skrt skrt if you disagree.

In February, per the advice of one of my closest friends, I read The Shack, a delightfully short (and possibly true) novel about the power of expectation and the lack thereof, and how letting go of the stuff, broadly defined, that we project onto others can be an extremely freeing experience. She recommended the book as a means of helping grieve my dad; I never anticipated the transformative power that text would have on how I chose to live — and love. The Shack is overtly Christian, so I completely understand that it might not be for everybody, but I cannot recommend this book highly enough for anyone living sort-of in a haze. If you’re concerned about being preached at for 300 pages, don’t be. I found it rather informative as a kid in his mid-20s who constantly tied his happiness to his achievements. Because what happens when you’re not experiencing those same levels of success?

“Family Feud” features Jay at his most enlightened, which would seem effortless for a 50-year-old man approaching $1 billion in net worth if only we weren’t privy to the salacious details of his past marital indiscretions. Yet, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Jay read The Shack at some point during his therapy sessions, or at least while he reckoned internally with the terrible decisions he'd made. “Family Feud” is a piece of a larger tapestry, of course, but, similar to “LUST.” on Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN., "Family Feud" is 4:44’s axis; feuding with others — and most crucially, himself — led to this album’s creation in the first place. It’s not so difficult to live a decent life; if we all treated others with the care and consideration we'd like to experience ourselves, we’d live in a much happier world. But our lustful, self-serving impulses tend to handicap us in the worst possible ways, and until we recognize these impulses as more detrimental to the collective good than as beneficial to our personal individual goals, we’ll continue to see the same negative results. We’re in a daily, never-ending fight against the notion that there’s somehow not enough stuff to share. Sharing is caring, man. And, contrary to popular belief, it can be fun too. “Family Feud” powered my optimism in humanity the second half of this year, and no other song provided the hope I so desperately felt I’ve needed at times since January 20. I couldn’t put another song at #1 in good conscience.

(Plus. Beyoncé’s harmonizing with a Clark Sisters sample! Please. Nothing else stood a chance.)

Entertainment, Essays, MusicLarry J. SandersSONGS of the YEAR, Larry J. Sanders, SZA, Fat Joe, 2 Chainz, Aminé, DJ Khaled, Willie Mac Jr., GoldLink, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott, JAY-Z, 2017Comment