Looking Back on Kreayshawn’s Notorious Debut 10 Years Later

There are few years that I love to romanticize as much as 2012. I was 23, experiencing one of the best years for film and enjoying the heights of my social life. We were in the tail end of Barrack Obama’s first term and the world still felt optimistic. It’s an age of innocence that I wish the past seven years could even replicate, but alas this all might’ve just been a byproduct of my naivety. Being young allows you certain disregards, that you haven’t experienced corners of life to grow cynical and jaded. Maybe those days will never come for me again, but it only makes looking back on them more bittersweet.

It also could explain why I have never been able to fully let go of Kreayshawn. She is by no means the voice of a generation nor an unsung talent, sharing more culturally in line with Kevin Federline than even Iggy Azalea. She is just a white rapper among a class of white rappers who shot for the big leagues and failed historically. As her sole major label album “Something ‘Bout Kreay” turns 10, I am reminded of some painful details. Even if she has taken up a music career again that’s less mainstream, there’s still the reality of popping on “Gucci Gucci” on YouTube and having the comments section remind you that she still owes Colombia Records somewhere around $800k. She’s gone back and forth on whether you should even listen to her 2012 album because of these financial constraints. She’s also boasted one time that she only made $0.01 in royalties. Yes, this record was a bomb and there’s no way around it.

On the one hand, there is a strange comfort in knowing I’ve made more money than Kreayshawn on my work that hasn’t even reached a fraction of her audience. However, it’s precisely what keeps her on my mind. As much as I try to escape it, I find a deep sympathy building for the trajectory of her career. It may be why I’m unable to tell you what won The Grammy for Album of the Year in 2012 but I can give you a beginner’s knowledge of Kreayshawn lore, whether it be the in-house fighting of The White Girl Mob with V-Nasty and Lil Debbie or that she apparently drew so much controversy that it overshadowed any delayed release that failed to capitalize on the success of “Gucci Gucci.” Something about the ceremonious failure of this oddball album speaks more to me than Adele’s theme for Skyfall (2012), providing more conversation than whatever brilliantly literary allusion Adele’s lyrics were getting at.

So yes, on this day in 2012 “Something ‘Bout Kreay” made its underwhelming debut to the public digitally. If you watch her Billboard video where she goes track by track from over a month before, there is excitement and hope for the album’s success. She’s ready for whatever lies ahead. Given that this was the time when rap music was entering a weird counterculture movement with Odd Future (which she was very loosely affiliated with), it felt like perfect timing. Could the woman who made it big off of YouTube translate to the big leagues? Unless you’re Who Charted? host Howard Kemer, you probably would say no. If releasing your album solely at Hot Topic confirms anything, it’s how little faith the label had in its success. The final result was debuting at 103 in its first week, selling 3,900 copies and becoming one of the biggest flops in music history. She was dropped from her label two days after announcing she was pregnant. Given that Kreayshawn also got fired from directing a music video for The Red Hot Chili Peppers, things weren’t looking up.

Sure, everyone and Kreayshawn would tell you that this was also just poor timing. Besides a terrible rollout, the industry was in transition. Spotify had yet to become a major player and YouTube was not yet respected as a revenue stream. A hypothetical I kept revisiting for this piece was whether she would’ve had a more stable career if she came out now. She was by no means the most lyrically adept rapper, but there is enough boppiness there to get some recognition. After all, it feels like if you’re a master social media marketer that you could have a whole solo career. Artists like Gayle (“abcdefu”) and Jax (“Victoria’s Secret”) have had crossover appeal and even appeared on the radio. There’s even been a hypothesis that having “Gucci Gucci” go viral on TikTok would help cover the debt. Some have even argued she’d be a perfect fit for some hyperpop collaborations.

I have discussed an interest in Kreayshawn before with her single “Missing Kitty,” but have never really dived into her work. Given this tumultuous past that I’m sure she’d rather forget, I felt it would be interesting in revisiting “Something ‘Bout Kreay” and determine whether or not there is a diamond in the rough there. If I’m being totally honest, there’s a handful of songs that work as these disposable hits. For as vapid as “Go Hard (La La La)” is, I’m always amused when listening to her say “Hey bitch, what’s up? You know I would really like to do that, but I don’t have any fucking money” before suggesting robbing your step-dad is a great idea. There is something inauthentic to the song and yet the sincerity is so beautiful. Whereas most are aspiring to be Bonnie & Clyde, Kreayshawn wants you to just get a little extra cash so you can go buy some weed.

I don’t know that at this point in her career that Kreayshawn had a substantial image, or one that would be marketable. She was a bad girl whose Wikipedia page claimed she once had a 0.0 GPA in high school. Lyrically, her raps aren’t always clever and she exists more in the party rock vibe, the daughter of a punk rock musician who embraced the excess of the time. “Something ‘Bout Kreay” is a profoundly dated record that connects a cross-section of early 2010s interests. If it sounds like the aspiration of wealth a’la Juicy J’s “Price Tag” or Miley Cyrus’ “Bangerz” album, you wouldn’t be wrong. It’s insane how innocent that era truly was.

That may be why there’s something a bit tragic in the opening track “Blasé Blasé” starting with:

If you thought my first, was my last song

Face the fact, man, you couldn't be more wrong

And her final song “Luv Haus” having the lines:

You take the time, you make me lose it all

You build me up and then you let me fall

You take the time, you make me lose control

You held me high and then you take it all

If you stop and consider the story that followed, this is the definition of poetic irony. In fact, the whole story of success that runs throughout the album just feels more wincing, realizing how delusional it comes across. Kreayshawn is sincere, selling every line no matter how good it actually is. You do believe she wants to make this moment count, though she unfortunately has few things on her mind. Among the familiar checklist is getting high, partying, boasting, and having a pseudo-sapphic undertone on tracks like “Summertime” where she praises girls for looking good in their bikinis (collaborator V-Nasty by comparison seems more about business, establishing dominance compared to Kreayshawn’s affectionate gaze).

A common complaint of the album is that it feels tailored to appeal to Top 40 audiences without having a Top 40 talent. It makes sense when you realize that there are songs here that feel more reminiscent of J.J. Fad’s 80s hit “Supersonic” (“K234ys0nixz”) and others that exist as tributes to Slick Rick (“The Ruler”) and Lisa “Left Eye” Lopez (“Left Ey3”). They’re varying degrees of accessibility with “Left Ey3” being a perfect feel-mad track about seeking revenge on your ex. While I am not a fan of accusing Courtney Love of murder, the conceit of the track works as a ball of energy, even with its awkwardly handled chorus where a background vocalist yells “Rest in peace” when Left Eye or Amy Winehouse’s name is brought up. It’s a tribute to being badass, and if nothing else, embodies that nicely. Still, I can’t believe Kreayshawn is that hated when this song has been included in Gone Girl (2014) quite effectively. If David Fincher gets it, why don’t you?

But to be totally honest, it’s here too that you can see the limits of her appeal at least with her collaborators. “The Ruler” may be a tribute to Slick Rick, but the repetitive chorus gets old fast and the overused gold iconography makes the three minutes drag. Still, the only song that truly grinds the album to a halt is the over-produced “Twerkin’!!!” which featured Diplo as artist and producer along with Sissy Nobby. It’s a generic club banger, but one that goes claustrophobic in the chorus, mixing some of the worst lyrics (“Can you drop your booty down/’Til your booty’s lowercase?”) with a Kreayshawn sample of “That booty” that never sounds harmonic enough to work. It feels rushed and exists for no other reason than to vapidly remind us that Kreayshawn really loves telling girls to strip. It’s a manic mess and maybe what everyone thinks the rest of the album sounds like.

The album’s inability to settle on tone also hurts, even as it produces some compelling detours like the punk-rock adjacent “Like It or Love It” featuring Kid Cudi, or the shy and timid beauty of “Bff (Bestfriend).” Unless you’re really that invested in Kreayshawn’s personal life, some of the more emotional beats like “Luv Haus” may not land as well. Still, there’s mixed bags like the multilingual “Ch00k Ch00k Tare” with Chippy Nonstop that at least find her having fun with wordplay, even joking about White Russians while saying “Privet devotchka.” Again, it’s not a masterpiece but there’s reason to believe that she would’ve become a more interesting artist if she got to grow.

For an album that features such top tier grabs as Diplo, Kid Cudi, and 2 Chainz (“Breakfast (Syrup)”), it’s amazing how none of it really works together. Like most debuts, I feel like its biggest fault is being by an artist who is overeager to prove themselves. At the time of release, she was 22 and coming from an underground scene. What’s notable about “Something ‘Bout Kreay” is that I actually think the songs that were carried over from previous demos and E.P.’s are actually decent enough to make a passable album. It’s hard not to like “Blasé Blasé,” “Summertime,” or “Go Hard (La La La)” as these disposable pop-rap songs. Given that we’re at a point in civilization where Nicki Minaj’s music is getting its own class at Berkeley, it does feel like we’re in an age where we can at least appreciate the more offbeat artists who never really made sense.

Is the rest of Kreayshawn’s career worth looking into? I remain a fan of “Missing Kitty” as one of the most passionate stories of loss I’ve heard. I haven’t given much else a chance, though it appears like she may finally have more to say. “Boutta” is a freestyle about abuse and she’s been more open about her depression. In a song about motherhood, she even compares her old life of being in the club “fucking Puerto Ricans” to her new one of “being home on the weekend.” As trashy as the rhyme is, I still can’t deny that I find it brilliant. Which is the thing. I’m sure there are many tragic tales I could’ve latched onto, but hers is one that’s been curious to me for a while now, if just for how it reflects following your dreams and not getting there. What do you do when you’re rejected?

Sure, “Something ‘Bout Kreay” isn’t a record that is a flawless masterpiece in reassessment. I don’t know that there’s much reason to see her as anything greater. However, I still like her as an artist who swung for the fences and made the most of it. She may have failed, but somewhere in there you’ll occasionally get the passion of someone who genuinely is having fun. There is a desire to be there and put in the work. As bizarre as it all is, where she feels like a distinctly Obama era rapper, it does speak to the art of endurance. She may have predicted her demise in the opening lines, but she still went with it anyway. That’s something worth celebrating.