From the archive: Let Me Update My Status, May 2023

I saw Tisakorean live last week. I did not know who the openers were until right before the show started, but was quietly blown away at the lineup: Texas Boyz, Yung Nation, and Trill Sammy with Dice Soho. Across these acts, you can draw a line from them to Tisakorean’s new music. It was an incredible blend of circa-2011 blog-rap nostalgia that called to mind in the best way my nights at small sweaty clubs seeing eight rappers in a row over the course of four hours.

I don’t know if you’ve seen the videos of Soulja Boy snapping, but I clocked it as a reaction to what Tisakorean is doing. It speaks to a trend/zeitgeist: concurrent to this is the embarrassing efforts to make “indie sleaze” a thing, which confusingly throws all manner of sounds and aesthetics anywhere from about 2004 to 2010 into a blender. The Dare kinda sound like LCD Soundsystem but they also remind me of The Bravery. I sense the same era rap music creeping on the margins: Homer Radio featured a slew of snap/dance music in a recent episode (#23, from April); indie sleaze nostalgia combined with “blog rap” podcasts point toward an endpoint destined to go just a few eras backward in time; the fact that 2003 was twenty years ago; this Druski skit that dropped the day I drafted this; and Tisakorean’s masterful new album, Let Me Update My Status.

When Tisa appeared on the national stage in 2018, I thought he was riding the wave of a trend: regional dance rap that consisted of artists like Splurge and 10kcaash, alongside future footnotes like Lil Tecca. His 2019 debut, A Guide to Being a Partying Freshman, was met with a mixture of shrugs to light praise. A fun collaboration with Chance the Rapper seemed to seal his fate as a guy who would burn bright and hot but not for long.

The first time I thought “he has something” was 2020’s “Bate Onna Bo,” which weaved through so many movements in the span of four minutes it had to be the work of someone with real vision. By 2021 we got “Old School Cash” and “Silly Dude” and it was clear he was following his instincts and making the exact kind of music he wanted to make. This came to a head in 2022 with his EP 1st Round Pick and “Backseat,” which was my favorite song of the year. Sometimes that’s as far as an artist can go. But he pressed on: Let Me Update My Status underlines my thought that Tisakorean is an era-defining rapper in a time when artists make interminably long albums to game the streaming algorithm then disappear off the planet.

It may seem premature to call Tisakorean era-defining but that’s where I landed. I don’t mean he’s sold the most albums or had the most hits, but in this age where you can have a few songs and leave no impact, that he’s had an audience since 2018 is huge: that he’s produced great music since at least 2020 is even more impressive. (While I never disliked his earliest music, it hits a lot better now in the context of his career arc.) A lot of people who liked “The Mop” may not follow him now, but artists who shed casual fans are probably doing something noteworthy. No one is good for three years, let alone five. I like Travis Porter more than your average person, but I’d argue at best they had a three year imperial phase.

The Atlanta snap/swag sound and movement from 2006 through about 2009 was a singular moment that came just as regional music was cresting (Houston famously in 2005, Three 6 Mafia won the Oscar in 2006), before blogs, before Drake. Early Gucci Mane was popping off and OJ da Juiceman became a household name within this precarious window. But as soon as all cool regional stuff became fodder for rappers on major labels and young hypebeasts like ASAP Rocky to absorb, it was over, which is why it’s due for a renaissance.

It’s getting harder to imagine life before smartphones, before omnipresent internet and connectivity, before literally every aspect of our lives was managed by at most three or four corporations. Kevin Durant’s iconic BlackPlanet page might as well be the Dead Sea Scrolls as a relic of his personality expressed through that era of the internet. But any means of truly unique expression becomes unlikelier as we are funneled into pre-ordained ways of being our ourselves, of consuming art and media and sports, to the fabric of our thoughts.

A few years ago Matty Healy described his life pre-internet the best I’ve heard it. It’s not about the changes it brought, but that he cannot remember what it was like to live without it. He cannot remember what it felt like to feel things before the internet, and what it felt like to not have to think about the internet as he felt things, and that his life and experiences still had meaning. And this inability to remember will render us more vulnerable to exploitation, and feeling like we are not connected to ourselves.

It used to feel different to feel alone, to feel sad, happy, etc, without thinking about how to broadcast it. Even if you don’t put yourself online like that, there’s an inkling to want to. I took a ton of pictures and videos at the Tisa show and I put some in my stories, but I found I didn’t want to share them permanently. They are for me.

Let Me Update My Status is a masterpiece in perfecting sounds from snap to crunk to mid-aughts Neptunes. It’s a callback to a simpler time, which is nearly impossible to do without some subconscious argument we also need to return to simpler, regressive politics. What makes the album so invigorating is how thoroughly it plumbs the era as an aesthetic and sound, not just as an excuse to make goofy videos. Its accomplishment is how it demonstrates snap music as an organic form that was never a response to anything: it was not conservative in its values, instead it was a truly original and innovative Black American artform that took time to receive the respect it deserved. (Quick aside: there were people who always loved it and it was popular for a reason, but it was not a given until years later.)

In Kelefa Sanneh’s Major Labels he says in spite of the liberal ideology at the heart of punk music, it was a conservative movement because art that aspires to either simplicity in its content (songs as political statements) or as a “return to form” (three chords and 4/4 time) is reactionary. The real-world impact of punk as ostensibly progressive expression was what came after it; it’s Minor Threat and Green Day but also skinhead music. When mid-'10s revisionism took hold and people rightfully concluded “D4L were important” it took forgettable Big Sean and Kid Ink albums to get there; it took the critical adulation upon the arrival of artists as disparate as Kendrick Lamar, Future, and Waka Flocka Flame to get there; it took time to get there, to see what had shaped everything that preceded the moment as vital to the culture. I'm not saying snap was punk but I'm also not not saying it.

Tisakorean’s delirious ode to snap music locates within a specific timeframe from the past an emotional center and palette, finding new entry points into the sound, blending homemade beats with experimental forms as well as hyperpop to fashion an immersive triumph. There’s nothing one-dimensional about Let Me Update My Status and it also doesn’t conjure any Bush-era feelings of excess or doom, which it might do if it used nostalgia as a gimmick. I love Let Me Update My Status because it sounds exactly like how 2007 felt, and for me 2007 was a good year to be alive, using the internet not because I had to but because I wanted to.

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Found Me Volume Two, curated with my creative brother Fat Tony, released in February. Buy one here. It continues to be my favorite thing I do. I wrote about Lil Yachty for NPR. Read that here. I started a Linktree and will add to it when necessary; bookmark/follow me here.