Artist: Barrett
Album: Perseverance
Reviewed by Jason Randall Smith

It might seem strange for a rapper to use his last name as his emcee tag, but Barrett certainly has a good reason for doing so. It’s the maiden name of his mother, who committed suicide while he was in the fifth grade. Never knowing his father, but still surrounded by family, he somehow managed to push himself through the pain, making it through high school and serving as a Marine for several years. Seeing time in Iraq coupled with an internal war of emotions from losing his mother so early in his life, it makes perfect sense that he has entitled his album Perseverance. Barrett wears his birth name with pride as he represents for the Lone Star State of Texas, serving as head writer and producer for this full-length.
His rhymes exude gratitude on “Let the Church Say Amen,” recognizing that his path in life could have easily taken a turn towards the jail or the grave like so many others. His production style is as large as Texas itself, slathered in synthesizer stabs that flow like syrup over the rat-a-tat of digital snares and wild turntable scratches. The album’s focal point lies in “Hustle, Grind,” an urban manifesto of undying devotion to the paper chase. Light keyboard harmonies waft through Barrett’s programming, which never strays from its hyperactive hi-hats and bass pad thud rumbles.
Guest rapper Lil’ Flip joins Barrett on “Bloodhound Grind,” their rhyme flows distinctly different from each other. While Flip strolls through his verse with a verbal pimp limp over the track, Barrett tongue twists his way around the beat with the speed of an Olympic sprinter during a one hundred yard dash. The backing track includes flat horn riffs and skittering keys that also make themselves present on “Ambition,” the one cut on the album that doesn’t feature Barrett as producer. Instead, he steps aside to allow Captain Mayhem behind the mixing board, who follows Barrett’s production lead while heightening the larger-than-life sounds with tolling bells and rapid-fire percussion.
The sexually provocative content of “Bad Girl” might be frowned upon on other albums, but here it proves to be a welcome distraction. Given that the first half of Perseverance deals heavily with the hustle and grind aesthetic, some talk of stripper pole struts makes for a surprising change of pace. As Barrett encourages his object of desire to assume the position (“face down, a** up”), some muffled background ambience adds a naughty element to the punch of the drum programming. “Her Theme Music” continues the adult scenarios over low-end pulses, finger snaps, and snare pads that land like smacks across backsides. Ironically enough, “Fantasy” chooses the contemplative over the carnal, resulting in the most beautifully produced moment on the album. Tender guitar and soft claps embrace the song’s opening line: “My fantasy is a society without a prejudice.” However, it is quite telling that such a wish doesn’t get carried over into the song’s remaining bars, perhaps seeming too intangible or impossible to ever be a reality. Barrett’s mind soon turns back to material things, ultimately summed up by the song’s chorus (“Money, girls, cars, clothes: ‘bout all a ni**a knows”).
Perseverance can be considered a bittersweet listening experience, one in which a man of valor and determination is often reduced to an everyday hustler, a figure that currently overcrowds present-day rap music. On the other hand, the music is no more capitalistic than America itself, so why should anyone be surprised when a part of rap’s agenda is to follow the money? Perhaps we simply need to look past the paper chase commentaries and focus on cuts like “Meditate,” where Barrett ponders the loss of his mother as well as the struggles of his own life. “My life could use some Photoshop,” he admits, a poignant line that resonates with more power than all of his money-centered rhymes combined.

Reviewed by Jason Randall Smith