MVW (feat. Gangsta Boo) - "GOOFY"

Listen here.

Producer-composer hybrid MVW bridges worlds, just like Gangsta Boo did, so it's only natural the two artists—who might seem miles apart in lived experience, but who share a similarly prolific spirit and willingness to collaborate with just about anyone—connected with one another in a real way. The classically-trained polymath—who releases more respectable but equally boundary-pushing under his government name, and beats for forward-thinking rappers like Valee—is maybe one of the only artists in the world who could bring Fennesz, JLin, and Lex Luger, and have it not only sound good, but actually slap. Imagine for a second that Zaytoven was born in Manchester and had released a few 12-inches on Warp Records before he scored a full-ride at Juilliard. That's the person Michael Vincent Waller's adventurous remix project for his album Moments sounds like it was made by, or made for.

Especially in the last decade of her life and career—which both deserved to be so much longer—Boo was similarly open-minded to the potential of fluid creative relationships, linking up with everyone from Run The Jewels to Clipping to artists I had never even heard of before she graced them with her sharpened tongue. She hustled for years, and finally got to a place where she could just kick back and make cool shit, and now you can just make cool shit, while waiting on the world to inevitably catch up with her greatness and claim they always knew she was an originator ahead of the curve, when they never bothered to listen to her until men told them too, because they never needed to hear a woman's voice going bar-for-bar with all the boys so badly.

You don't need to be given flowers when you can take them for yourself, which is what Gangsta Boo always did, and why MVW honors her in the purest way possible, through his own work, which gives a middle finger to simple-minded genre categories and suffocatingly outdated modalities. 

Since Gangsta Boo is no longer here to fearlessly flip the bird of her own volition as an artist existing in defiance of the industries that exploit all of our voices, Michael and I must both do it for her. This is not a music review, or a microphone: it is my own middle finger, on behalf of Gangsta Boo, and every bad bitch from that wild frontier they call Ten a Key: from Knoxville to Chatt-town, from Cashville to Shelby County, from La Chat to GloRilla to Gloss Up, from BbyMutha to so many fearless mothers whose names you will never even know. 

Bad bitches from Down South will always tell you to get fucked when you try to fuck with our money, because that is the realest thing most of us have.