If I can be honest, I didn’t set out this week to write two pieces on rappers based out of Portland, OR. Earlier this week, I chose to explore the music career of Damien Lillard with “Big D.O.L.L.A.” and found myself impressed by his capabilities. When it came to my weekly album reviews, it was more coincidental. I knew nothing about Aminé, which meant that it would either be a rewarding experience or another dive into music that never quite connects with me. Given my luck in Portland this past week, I figured that I’d commit to the bit and try it out.
After all, Aminé has garnered an incredible amount of success in just a few short years. Following his 2017 debut “Good For You,” he’s been staying busy. His songs have been played millions of times and, in one of the most noteworthy things for me, he appeared on the Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) soundtrack singing the song “Invincible.” If anything makes him seem promising, it’s an appearance on one of the best soundtracks of the past few years.
So who is Aminé and what does he bring to the game? What I can gather off of “Limbo” is that he’s an artist who has his head in the right place. He’s part of a more concerned generation that is open about his personal experiences. The album may have traces of jubilance and celebration, but the rest is filled with these personal stories of life that explore his culture (“Roots”), his friend’s incarceration (“Burden”), family (“Mama”) and even the future (“Fetus”). Whereas most artists don’t give me enough to work with, I feel like Aminé is a fully accomplished artist, using his platform as much for bragging as he does autobiography.
As a result, this is a fairly endearing album where no song overlaps too thematically with the other. It’s a journey that makes me understand the 26-year-old as someone who clearly doesn’t take his fame for granted. He works hard for every moment and it shines through on this album. As a title, “Limbo” reflects where he is in his life. He is being judged for his entire life, and he’s coming to terms with the highs and lows with such catharsis that will hopefully make him a better man. If he has success right now, it will be for work that speaks to his true identity and not something shallow.
With that said, an artist who got his start writing diss songs for rival high schools sounds like a pretty decent dude to me. The fact that his opener “Burden” features a shoutout to Sofia Coppola only makes me more confident that I will like his gift of gab. Given that his references are strangely familiar to me, such as several NBA player mentions including Kobe Bryant and James Harden, I’m already liking him.
Then again, that’s what you’d get from someone who grew up in Woodlawn, OR. He strikes me as someone who escaped his problems in life through music, and it shows in his passion here. He clearly watched the same shows I did and found inspiration from similar corners. For as much as our narratives differ outside of media, he feels like someone who is fun to be around. I don’t worry about Aminé. He seems like he has a strong head on his shoulders and will be just fine.
One of the most telling signs of the album is “Kobe,” which is about the passing of Kobe Bryant. While The Los Angeles Lakers player is referenced throughout the album, it’s here where you get the crux of Aminé’s motivation as an artist. To know that your heroes have died is a traumatic experience, and capturing it in an interlude allows for honesty that even his most personal songs don’t get into:
He died and I feel like my, like, a lot of my innocence
In, like, being a young person died with Kobe
And now, like, with him being gone, I'm like
Let me figure out how money works
Let me figure how, like, how to buy a house
And how to move and, like
Even the way he phrases it has an abrupt stumbling that reflects someone unsure about their place in the world. It’s a moment where immortality fades away and the idea of spending time wisely is brought into clearness. The way that he stumbles through each sentence is intentional making every new revelation feel like it’s happening in ways that come with a shock. It’s not clear at first, but those who push forward need to deal with the hard facts even when the obvious is true. The rest of the album makes sense without this, but “Kobe” brings something more human and vulnerable, a clarity that makes his motivations all the more plausible.
The first half is more free-wheeling. Unlike “Kobe,” the rest of Aminé’s music has a brisk focus, managing to mix in pop culture references with a personal spin. “Woodlawn” starts as a bit of an origin story, exploring his youth with such vibrant details that will make you smile. It’s about how he had to hustle to become more than an average rapper, playing his music on his phone. Again he pays tribute to Bryant in the chorus, reflecting how his “Mamba mentality” greatly impacted his work ethic. Though it should be noted that even while bragging, he does come across as a nice guy:
Just watch what you spend 'cause my mama need rent
And my neck gotta look like a freezer (Pew, pew)
I keep some Prada on my ass (Yeah)
I put Chanel on the bag (You're welcome)
The themes of Aminé’s life can be summarized in this passage. He’s as much focusing on success as he is caring for his family, understanding that love is just as important. It doesn’t matter how much wealth he acquires, it’s what he does for others that help him. Given that there’s another song that explores his more literal heritage of being Ethiopian (“Roots”), it shows that he’s aware that work means nothing if you have no respect for yourself. Also, the small tag of “You’re welcome” set to this trap beat is a comedic touch that will make you smile. He’s still young and has an even richer personality, after all.
If I’m being honest, the first half is really solid and reflects him at his most playful. He’s capable of taking the listener on a journey that is equal parts playful and self-reflective. What he lacks in boasts he more than makes up for in his humbleness. His beats are catchy and his collaborators bring their a-game as they enhance his world, adding ethereal touches such as higher-pitched singing that adds soul and passion. It’s a fun half that reflects his youth in such a clear way. When he dives into love songs like “Compensating” and “Can’t Decide,” he’s just as insightful about his past mistakes as he is wanting to better himself. More than anything, Aminé doesn’t seem like a vindictive brat, which is a major plus.
After two fun songs that find him at his most creatively twisted (“Shimmy” and “Pressure in My Palms”), the tone shifts. Suddenly the consequences of his actions begin to take shape. “Easy” finds him dealing with a difficult relationship, believing that “our love’s runnin’ out.” It’s a strangely accepting song that comes with maturity and realizing that not everything was meant to last. In the quest to find his best self, he has to recognize in himself that breaking up isn’t a failure of the self. It’s just how life goes sometimes.
The final four songs may be him finally reaching the successful side of his “Limbo” journey. Having gone through the struggles that preceded things, he begins by thanking his “Mama.” While his father is largely absent from this record, his mother is here described as “my lift before the Lyft” and went on at length about how much she sacrificed for him. His compassion has been a shining feature of his work, managing to talk at length about her work at the Post Office and how he’ll take her to the Grammy’s in a yellow suit (fun fact: there’s a lot of yellow imagery on this album). This doesn’t come across as a Mama’s Boy narrative, but one of genuine gratitude. In an album exploring every last one of his personal ethics, this stands out with a charming chorus by Charlie Wilson.
Other interesting touches include “Becky,” which comes from his own personal life. In a time where there’s a politically charged environment and a desire for unity, it’s interesting for him to take a different look at multiracial dating. To say it simply, it doesn’t go well and he comments on the frustration of his friends criticizing him for this decision. It’s as much about external factors as his own concern for their safety and happiness. Again, an endearing and charismatic guy, he manages to break up with Becky in a rational and heartfelt way.
“Fetus” and “Reality” finish things off with a look into the future. As he teams with Injury Reserve, he looks at what he needs to do to be a good father one day. Meanwhile, the members of Injury Reserve are looking back at their own challenges as fathers. Aminé wonders how Bryant was such a good father while looking again through the economics of raising a child. In an album that explores the costs of things, there’s little room for impulsive bragging. It’s all done to better himself and those around him.
In fact, it all culminates with one of the best conclusions on the whole album:
And now you're just a n***a with those things
'Cause its like, well, what's next?
And it's like, well, I never tried a grapefruit by itself
And now you're just a n***a peelin', like, eatin' a grapefruit
And you're like, "This is nice"
With sugar in it and you're like, "Why is this nicer than my Ferrari?"
With “Reality,” he talks about how his fantasy is his reality, and in a lot of ways explains why the album feels so accessible. Whereas most people would talk about expensive luxuries, Aminé is more concerned about getting that grapefruit. It’s something so simple, and it fills your life with this greater meaning. You feel fulfilled for having earned this fruit, and that is how he views his life. He doesn’t need to have wealth to be happy, just something that has worth and gives him energy.
Not only is it surprising to find an album this humble from a rapper, but it’s interesting how every song manages to stand out from the next. Every one takes you on this journey that mixes humor with wisdom as it explores his identity and values in such a way that you come out realizing what makes him special. What he lacks in showiness he more than makes up for in his honesty and charity. As much as this album feels like it exists in the shadow of Bryant, it feels like a whole journey of a man imagining what matters in his life.
Maybe it was all there in “Burden,” where his friend is incarcerated and is trapped between imprisonment and freedom. He uses it as an allegory for the rest of the album and does so in ways that are entertaining enough. I’ll admit that while I like him as a cohesive artist with a lot to say, his humbleness plays against him at times, making his more personal songs less pop-driven. This isn’t a club record, but one you play to sit and think about. Sure, there are some enjoyable moments that are nonsense fun (“Shimmy”), but my big takeaway is how well it works at introducing me to a man I hardly knew going in and come out feeling like I’ve met a new friend.
“Limbo” is not a perfect record sonically, but it may be one of the most affirming rap records I’ve heard this year. It’s not going out of its way to brag or teach, but ask the listener to lean in and listen. It’s about recognizing the worth in his life as well as yours. So long as you’re true to yourself and your family, everything else will be fine. Girlfriends will come and go, but so long as you keep looking for that grapefruit in life, something natural and pure, everything will work out. I hope the rest of Aminé’s work is this good. After “Limbo,” I really want to see him succeed.
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