That Kid - Crush

7.6

"America’s favorite bottom" kicks off his lusty debut mixtape with blatant disregard for whatever prudish sentiment the listener may harbor, as he begs to get pounded against the dash of an expensive sports car. Completely unapologetic about his rampant homosexuality, That Kid crams Crush with such comical amounts of horny in-your-face gay energy, that infamous Kanye bar about getting asshole bleach on his T-shirt feels tame. When a sexy stranger is led into the closet coy innuendo is shoved aside, replaced with unambiguous smut: "He touched me here, I touched him there / Made him cum like a faucet."

Every aspect of Crush moans with unfiltered homoerotic drive, from the graphic lyrics detailing public man-on-man lust sung in an auto-tuned effeminate whine, to the delicious hyper pop production filled with throbbing club beats, glitzy electronic flourishes, and samples of high-pitched sex moans. By completely submerging himself in a quagmire of gay stereotypes, That Kid celebrates his culture by exaggerating aspects that any bigot clinging to a pre-2015 world would furiously reject. "Let those bitches gossip" he declares. On "Make Out Club" cartoon shark bites accompany the line "Imma bite yo' dick," ratcheting the campiness up to ludicrous degrees; on the same track he breathily suggests his cybersex partner "make it wiggle." The overwhelmingly flamboyant nature of That Kid’s music provides a riotous experience, comparable to drunkenly careening across an inner-city highway in that desecrated Bugatti from the first track.

The most understated moment of the tape–perhaps the only fleeting moment in which the fun stops–is when the rapid-fire blip of electronic drums cut out for Ravenna Golden’s feature on "7 Minutes in Heaven" as she vaguely insinuates there is an unsustainability to the non-stop party lifestyle: "I just wanna go to parties / Then go home and fuck somebody," while wearing "my dog-chain necklace." Perhaps she’s contemplating her dependence on being a sexual object to maintain personal worth. The sparkle of synths and thump of drum machines resuscitate before any reflection can transpire. Even when the tempo does become more subdued during the penultimate track "Spectacular", the monsoon of drugs and sex doesn’t cease as That Kid croons about getting handsy while high, never allowing for a moment of anything other than intense thirst.

The weakness and strength of Crush is it’s lack of emotional depth, functioning exclusively as filthy homoerotic pop music, never taking its foot off the gas long enough to seriously consider the consequence or drive of an action. Being slutty enough to fuck an acquaintance in a fast food restaurant’s bathroom is a remarkable display of debauchery–as described in the aptly named track "Taco Bell". However, anyone would grimace upon hearing a couple smash in the stall next door, not just the homophobes. That Kid makes road kill of such prudish sentiment, never pausing to consider what may cross a hater’s mind or a deeper explanation for his ravenous actions outside of biological zeal for the male form.

When he spots a speed bump, That Kid accelerates instead of even attempting to swerve during this joyride of a mixtape, reveling in behavior and production that races far beyond stereotypical excess, delivering not only a good time, but a completely uncompromising statement of pride.


Moses Sumney - grae
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