It’s been three years since Deacon, an album filled with raw, tender emotions about love and living, continuing to cook but waiting to unleash something different and unique, and as such, Serpentwithfeet delivers with the fantastic follow-up, Grip. It speaks more to his exploratory nature, specifically as the production takes renewed heights with this splurge of intimacy, happiness, and reflections guiding the newfound direction that gets slightly more transcendent than the smooth, cool-hearted nature of the R&B/Soul melodies on Deacon. We hear this unique marking that can feel like a hard pivot, but that’s the beauty of getting caught off guard. It feels as if Serpentwithfeet is feeling similarly with the optimism showcased through the unabashed pop tinges that radiate beneath, through, and over its centralized vocals, giving it a tonic touchstone that celebrates these newfound emotions and ideas musically. It’s why you can feel the ease when songs transition to varying tempos without causing much of a step back, especially when considering the deviation from Deacon. It’s breathtaking and does enough to reel you in with his happy-go-confidence, even with some minor misses.
Grip is like Serpentwithfeet gripping to the everlasting without forgetting who he is, and he’s relishing in that moment. With the establishing sounds that engulf the world of the production palette of the album with “Damn Glove,” its lavish directness amongst the modest and bombastic production showcases something great. As the album progresses, he sprinkles a solid consistency between the sensual and smooth gospel-influenced R&B/Soul tenderness that made Deacon a memorable beauty. When he heads that route, the rhythms elevate with juicy and lively percussion that are solid additions to the other layers. Through them, he continues to exhume his individual expressions that reinforce his identity—one more centered on reality without caring if verbiage is too physical, but that’s his language, and it shows with some fluttering glee when his writing speaks high to his energy and sexual fortitude. Though that isn’t all that he uses to express such emotions, the prose that electrifies the meaning of physical touch gives these songs unique perspectives, like him taking chances on the song “Hummin’” or reeling in the emotional gravitas of feeling loved and discovering yourself with “Deep End.” What Serpentwithfeet delivers is more musically bountiful; unfortunately, some of its productional pivots and features lack similar gravitas to the overall vocal performance from Serpentwithfeet.
Though some of the production on Grip comes from those whose track record is as clean as a brand-new pressed Vinyl, like Nosaj Thing and ThankGod4Cody, it’s I Like That that gives us one of the two misses. His production on “Black Air Forces” has an audacious nature that speaks too much to club sensitivities, with his gospel overtones feeling slightly displaced when it’s all pieced together. As a proponent of his through these experimental moments, the transitions aren’t the most seamless here, and it doesn’t expound on the audacious madness and unique textures of “Rum / Throwback,” which are two tracks in one, and its contrasting elements within the in song transition allows for a more nuanced delivery that does wonders to the ears. “Black Air Forces” is the one that doesn’t feel as connected, despite being as bombastic, especially when both Serpentwithfeet and Mick Jenkins bring forth this fascinating and empowering concoction that has a semblance of a great song; it just doesn’t connect with what happens around it. That isn’t to say it’s due to the nature of the production that it flounders so, but more so, it fits within the confines of the personable depth Serpentwithfeet brings.
The glee in Serpentwithfeet’s writing is expressed through the bountiful fulfillment he has in emotions when expressing that physical touch; it shows alongside the consistency of his vocals. It’s why I love songs like “Spades,” which speaks to a past lover who he’s glad didn’t let the negativity around the situation turn them to stone, and “1 to 10,” where he flaunts his partner and shines on their complimentary synergy. It’s the same with the performances of the featured artists. Though Mick Jenkins is connected to the song that doesn’t feel whole amongst the others, his verse is solid and is a singular standout that does more than what Ty$ gives in the first track. As much as I lauded the opening song for how it sets the tempo, Ty$ is a miss, and more so because he doesn’t add much to the equation outside of giving a hetero perspective and adding some more sexual energy. It can sound more like a nitpick but echoes what one thinks could have been, especially with the more simple but direct notions from Serpentwithfeet. Rounding the bases and looping around the album multiple times, you leave it relieved Serpentwithfeet continues to deliver greatness.
I’m a big fan of Grip, though it is safe to say I’m fonder of Deacon. Either way, the flurry of optimistic intimacy runs through the tracks, elevating context beyond the given. It made me readily return to the grand soundscapes that tread beyond its core layer. It’s an album that requires attention and time, and that’s all I can recommend on the surface, as the complexities of Serpentwithfeet’s craft are apparent through the surface and cracks that shine in between. Give Grip a listen-through, and let me know what you think. I hope you liked it as much as me.
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