“Hard for a Pitchfork, soft for a Roc-A-Fella/Music was my side chick, but now we’re moving in together,” read the opening raps on Childish Gambino’s EP, the first rap project from the multi-talented performer Donald Glover to garner any media attention. For years, Glover’s public persona was all about comedy — gaining attention through his improv group Derrick Comedy’s YouTube videos, writing for 30 Rock, and landing the co-starring role of Troy Barnes on NBC’s Community. Little was it known that he was simultaneously releasing hip-hop mixtapes on his blog under the rap moniker of Childish Gambino. Around the time of his EP release, he dropped a music video for “Freaks and Geeks,” which has earned more than five million views to date, and launched a nationwide tour featuring comedy and rap, exposing his side interest and drawing ticket sales through his already popular comedy persona. “Freaks and Geeks” took off, and presented Glover as a punchline-rapper, so eager for laughs in his music that he’d stretch his humor beyond the lines of appropriateness.
As a fan, I’ll be honest: that side of Glover only belongs in comedy. But this is a problem that weighs down many artists: the strive for attention and mainstream success forces many musicians to create inauthentic music. An artist like Drake does this in songs like “Headlines” and “Make Me Proud,” which belong nowhere in the dark, gloomy, subdued landscapes of Take Care. Glover’s widespread attraction is not as a pop artist, though; it’s as a comedian. He’s built a craft off of going places others wouldn’t touch (think his two most popular videos, “Bro Rape” and “Spelling Bee”). Tracks like “Freaks and Geeks” and “Bonfire” are the equivalent of Glover’s sell-out pop hits. “Bonfire” is riddled with comedic attempts — some that work, and some that clearly don’t — “You can f*ckin’ kiss my ass/Human Centipede.”
But Glover’s music is not about shock value. This isn’t Tyler, the Creator, and anyone who’s taken the time to listen to Camp, EP, Culdesac or any record of his in full would know that. Glover is the guy riddled with insecurity about his life and music career. Glover follows in the path of artists like Kanye and Drake not by copying their style, but by imitating their honesty and introspection in his music. That didn’t happen in hip-hop until recently, and Glover is just another up-and-comer influenced by the opportunity to be real. Camp is an overwhelmingly autobiographical work, and the extremely detailed spoken word closing scene shows that rap for Glover is just a creative medium, and that it could have been a novel or a memoir instead. The songs that don’t fit this mold are obvious standouts — “You See Me” and “Bonfire” — and it’s not a coincidence that these are the two songs Glover released and performed prior to his album’s release.
So much of the current criticism on Glover questions his need for rapping, when it is arguably his worst technical skill. The execution on Camp is substantially better than previous releases, but still not on par with major label LPs. Glover is a producer as well, and had a hand in every track on the album, producing over half of it independent of Community producer and friend Ludwig Gorannson, who helps bring orchestral standouts like “Sunrise” and “That Power” into full swing. Though Glover’s lyrical chops and flow will never contend with the industry’s best, his pursuit of a music career is validated by the fact that his music doesn’t belong anywhere else. His comedy certainly draws off of previous hardship, but it doesn’t allow him to reflect without trying to conjure up laughs. One particular line from 2010’s “Untouchable” comes to mind: “Online dudes shouting out that they’re better than me/I’m doing three other jobs bitch you better be.” Glover will never fully dedicate himself to music the way others have the luxury to. While claiming he and music “were moving in together,” he was filming his new standup special Weirdo and the next season of Community. His skill on its own is not enough to attract a large audience, and it’s not intended to. It’s a supplement to his persona, a depth to the man who on television is all smiles. His music is honest, and Glover is at his best and most respected when he reflects, and gives a sense of why his music matters. So take his crossover attempts with a grain of salt, give Camp a full listen, and tell me you’re not glad that he’s taking this seriously.
