
GANGER somehow lives up to the hype - a mean, muggy sampler that pulls off the rare feat of being an Intro To Veeze and appealing to long-term fans.
#HOLD IT I JUST HAD A BRUH MOMENT FULL#
Veeze says the reception to "Close Friends" (particularly from his friend Lil Baby, who "just listened to the s*** every day") motivated him to go full album mode. Between Veeze's rising star and constant revisions and pushbacks, the album took on a mythic quality. Since his urgent 2020 hit, "Law N Order," (which, of course, samples the theme from the long-running cop procedural) the rapper has teased his debut, GANGER (a word he coined to describe himself and his partners), with a string of increasingly knotty and thrilling singles, features and leaks. He brings up his collaborator, Chicago rapper LUCKI, as a example of someone who he noticed recently became the "cool" thing to rep, despite putting in work for over a decade.įor years, Veeze's lore was missing a crucial component: an album. He's studied rappers past and present on a technical level, as well as how they've navigated the shifting tides of culture and cool. Speaking to him, it's obvious he's ready. You can do the dot-connecting - the stoicism of Detroit peer Babyface Ray, the slurred stylings of Future and Gucci and Young Nudy, the baby voice of Carti, the whimsy of Chief Keef - but it's almost a disservice to the expansive world that Veeze has constructed with his voice.Īs one of a few artists in the insular Michigan scene that has entered the wider rap ecosystem, Veeze seemed poised to take the proverbial next step. On the sinister 2022 single, "Close Friends," his murmurs froth as they're sent through sludgy Auto-Tune. Sometimes he'll bring his voice a hair's breadth from your ears like he's doing ASMR. Rapping in a deceptively versatile mutter-croak, Veeze ekes out dense, snake-like verses that are as captionable and clever as they are transparent about his vices: "The drank be calling me the most when I feel like quitting." (I've seen some first-listeners struggle to get into Veeze I'll just say that when you get it, you get it.) Like every great before him, he's developed a style that is utterly his own. This balance between the cool and the personable, effortless bars and Twitter memes, has vaulted Veeze into the vanguard of Michigan's rap scene. Even with his music, he'll scream along to a snippet he's premiering on IG Live as though he can't believe he came up with it. Somehow Veeze is one of the best rappers and one of us, a frank, relatable and often hilarious presence online, whether or not it's intentional.

He practically fanboys talking about a random studio session with one of his favorite artists, Playboi Carti, who praised his music and played him the scrapped deluxe edition of Whole Lotta Red. He cracks jokes constantly - about his idol-turned-mentor Future, about struggling to censor himself in a Pistons halftime performance, about his vision for his own Jimmy Fallon-esque late-night show, about rappers in the Far East biting the Michigan sound. (He hates doing interviews.) Right here, facing a rack of screens and speakers, is the mode in which the Detroit rapper seems most comfortable - a studio rat through-and-through studious, skilled and focused.īut when Veeze refocuses his attention toward me, his ridiculous personality immediately jumps out. Swiveling in an office chair, Veeze seems exhausted, maybe slightly annoyed by the presence of another journalist deep in a rare press run. Tye deftly stitches the neck-breaking drums that have become the trademark of Michigan rap to the pattern.

When I enter the Manhattan studio where I'm scheduled to meet Veeze, he's working, looking over his producer Tye Beats' shoulder as he chops up a sample of "EARFQUAKE" by Tyler, The Creator.
