By Ingrid Avancena
Yeat’s album cover for AftërLyfe
Irvine-born experimental rapper, Yeat, just released his album, AftërLyfe, which has made quite the appearance on people’s Instagram stories. Being a casual listener of Yeat, mostly of his songs “Out thë way” and “Off Tha Lot”, I was unsure of what to anticipate. However, after having AftërLyfe on rotation during the weekend and my bus rides to campus, I found that I had positive opinions and four favorite tracks.
To start things off, “Shmunk” (ft. YoungBoy Never Broke Again) was a clear standout. NBA YoungBoy and Yeat had previously collaborated, but I was surprised at the fact that the two rappers could work efficiently despite being from distinct sub-genres, as YoungBoy’s style coincides with twangy and undoubtedly hard trap while Yeat leans towards rage-like hyper trap. At its core, "Shmunk" is characterized by its elevated video game synths, slammed beats, and lyrics that exemplify the validated success and confidence of both rappers, which then creates a dynamic interplay between Yeat's trademark mumbled, gravelly cadence and YoungBoy's more-projected and nasally tone. It’s one of the most popular songs on the album for a reason, and I’d love to see more stuff like this from Yeat.
“Type monëy” was a song that I felt captured the true essence of Yeat, in all his sound effects entirety. I could easily distinguish a recurring, three-peat “under-the-sea” bell within Yeat’s pauses, skidding along the distorted bassline and atmospheric mellotrons seamlessly. In addition to Yeat’s melodious whistles and echoes of woos-and-ahhs, there was also a generous sprinkling of his grunts, “skrrr” noises (possibly alluding to Yeat’s Lamborghini Urus), and other ad-libs of affirmation, deviating away from the typically monotonous ad-libs featured in other rap songs. Although the lyrics touch on the Percocets and murders that stem from the “type of money” Yeat has impressively amassed, the song’s overall upbeat energy makes it impossible to not loop on Spotify.
I was caught completely off guard by the dramatics of “Watch”, compared to what I heard in the rest of the album. In each chorus of the song, Yeat tones it down by whisper-rapping, conveying the severe consequences of what happens when you attempt to disrupt him or his lifestyle. In terms of the two main instrumentals, the beat trudges into a deeper vibrato, almost digging into the listener themselves, and the synths take on more of a “questioning” inflection, perhaps serving as an indirect call out to those who are wary of Yeat and his newfound fame. Neither of these elements progress in speed nor tempo, even with Yeat’s incorporation of multiple verses. The song is a compelling method for Yeat to remind everyone that no, he doesn’t make the same four songs for TikTok.
Yeat closes out AftërLyfe with “Mysëlf”, offering us an introspective glimpse into, as the title suggests, himself. The song sets the mood with wistful electronic guitar strums, soft violin notes, and a nostalgic 2000s kick beat, creating a backdrop for Yeat’s dismal vocality. In “Myself”, Yeat acknowledges that he has attained riches, a thrilling love life, and other aspirations from his childhood, yet he reveals that these accomplishments have simultaneously contributed to the emptiness he can’t help but feel. To mask this hollowness, Yeat ultimately turns to a never-ending cycle of drugs. It is rare for rappers to show such emotional vulnerability, especially in an industry that values machismo, so Yeat's willingness to open up and explore this topic through his music is commendable.
Though I only discussed four songs out of the 22 on the album, Yeat's AftërLyfe is a cohesive and captivating project that showcases the artist's versatility and creative prowess, solidifying his place as a rising star. If you’re looking for something fresh and fun, especially as we’re only three months into the new year, this album is the one for you.
Have questions or comments? Email the writer avanceni@uci.edu!
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