Homeboy Sandman is as original as his bizarre emcee moniker implies. Signed to Los Angeles’ independent hip-hop powerhouse Stones Throw, the Queens-born rapper makes his career by unleashing lyrical dexterity over experimental production into the ears of a dedicated, niche audience. He is the classic underground — or anti-terrestrial radio — rapper, placing musicality and poetry over morbidly obese pockets and really cool cars. On his third full-length album since signing to Stones Throw back in 2011, Kindness for Weakness, Sandman stays as indie as the girl who had a Fjallraven backpack in middle school while spitting universally profound rhymes.
With a brief 39-minute runtime over the course of 14 songs, Kindness for Weakness illustrates Sandman’s compact craftsmanship. “Heart Sings,” the album’s premier track, sounds akin to newer Earl Sweatshirt, with Sandman succinctly flowing over a breezy, melodic instrumental: “The chosen got flaws and don’t care ’bout who knows ’em, had mo’ moments ago, I outgrows ’em.”
While songs like “Real New York” explain the Big Apple through rapid-spit lyrics that I don’t dare attempt to transcribe in quote form, “Eyes” features one of the album’s essential punch lines via maturation and fornication-based metaphor: “I used to be the one that wanted people hands to clap/ People all up on me like I sat in front the transit map/ Now, I keep it low key like a baritone/ Remind me of the time I got some pussy while my parents home.” It’s a line most can relate to, either through peculiar fantasy or all-too graphic reality.
Sandman is a master of the authentic and innovative, exemplified on the frustration-venting “Talking (Bleep)”: “Son, I don’t make the same jam or record twice, I am way too nice.” Whether it be the rap game psyche critique on “Keep it Real (feat. Mystro)” or the fast-paced tale of female pursuit on “Sly Fox,” nice he is. The aforementioned “Sly Fox” plays like a Shakespearean edition of J. Cole’s “Wet Dreamz,” with Sandman’s eyes lit with desire and fixed upon a local beauty: “Every now and then she lighten up/ But then I do some shit that I ain’t even mean to do to make her tighten up/ Like texting her too early in the morning while she still sleep/ She asked me not to in a way that wasn’t too sweet.” The thirst is real, yet the source of water is fickle.
The hooks on Kindness for Weakness leave the most room for improvement. Steve Arrington’s forced croon on “It’s Cold” is possibly the only cringe-worthy moment of the album — an unnecessarily poor singing performance contrasting Sandman’s perennially strong rapping. Sandman’s hook choice here is perplexing, as he shows the ability to absolutely nail a chorus on “God,” a spoken-word type explanation of his personal relationship with a higher power. On the track, the word “God” is repeated rhythmically to the tune of a heavenly flute, invoking a sense of meditative spirituality. But most importantly, it plays naturally — a direct contrast to the contrived “It’s Cold.”
For those unfamiliar with outside-the-norm hip-hop, Kindness for Weakness is a proper introduction. Fueled by insightful lines and beats more likely to play in a Williamsburg vegan eatery than on your radio station of choice, Sandman’s latest work simultaneously stays true to the underground and accessible to those dwelling above surface level. With machine-gun flow and intricate story telling, Kindness for Weakness takes a couple listens to sink in, but once it does, it goes full-fledged Titanic into your brain’s compartment for creative appreciation.
