‘Think the reverse engineering of the current NY era, just as appealing, but the dark and ugly side, forgoing bravado for obscure mental breakdown.‘
-Daniel Reiser
Release date: December 18, 205 | Independent | Bandcamp | Instagram | Website
Not every album is influential enough to become the namesake of an entire music festival; Oblivion Access by Richmond, VA rapper and producer Lil Ugly Mane is one of the select few to receive such plaudits. Released in December of 2015, the album mingles (and mangles) noise and industrial hip hop in ways that rival the bleakest exploits of human nature, making for a harrowing but intriguing listen. Its influence still festers within the current waves of hip hop.
Broc Nelson
My experience with Lil Ugly Mane was limited going into this article. I had only heard Mista Thug Isolation, at this point an underground classic which I have revisited several times throughout the years. Mista Thug Isolation is a bleak, weird album that is both gripping and grating. So, I had to ask myself why I never spent more time with the elusive artist’s catalogue. Popping on Oblivion Access almost immediately reminded me why.
This is bleak music, like if early Swans made hip hop. No, it isn’t as noisy and intense, musically, but Lil Ugly Mane’s sense of existential dread is borderline nihilistic. The Bandcamp description of the album states, ‘Oblivion Access is the last of the filthy water funneling out of the bathtub I’ve been soaking in for 5 years,’ and that is where the appeal lies. Like a death metal album, Mane is interested in, and descriptive of, the bile and shit and viscera of the human experience, but unlike Cannibal Corpse, these grotesqueries are more metaphorical than literal.
The first bars on Oblivion Access are, ‘Social, self-obsessive species, everything is peachy/having cyber interactions, get erections from the TV/vocal ‘bout opinions, ‘bout elections up in DC/with a total lack of knowledge, rope around your neck was easy,’ an immediately poignant observation that touches on the self-centered anti-intellectualism that has plagued the United States for the last 50 years, at least, growing and festering like an ignored wound, gangrenous and seeping the effluvia of potential and worn proudly like a badge for millions of other dipshits to see. Yeah, this is bleak, but damnit if I don’t find some comfort in this putrid, discolored bath water.
Like Swans or Ramleh or Spiritual Poison or innumerable noise and industrial artists, Lil Ugly Mane occupies a space in the musical landscape that is akin to those Nietzsche-obsessed philosophy bros you may have encountered in college. At times, their axioms may seem reductionist or callously blunt, but there are nuggets of truth in their grim nature, holding up a mirror to humanity and plainly speaking out about the pockmarks, blackheads, and blemishes that we often disregard as we focus on laugh lines and rebrand moles as ‘beauty marks’. Their voices are just as, if not sometimes more, important than the toxic positivity crowd, tempering overzealous hopefulness with the cruel realities of the world.
Admitting that he ‘doesn’t know anything’ is more than a Platonic humility, ‘facts are human arrogance, we only know a fraction,’ Mane spits on “Columns”, still the first track with lyrics, following a noise introduction. He turns his dry observation to death, often on tracks like “Grave Within A Grave” and “Collapse And Appear”, the latter of which he admits that ‘the towel rack reminds me of the handles pallbearers grip tightly on the way out of church.’ The instrumental track “Leonard’s Lake” is a nod to the serial killer Leonard Lake. He flirts with suicide on “Persistence”, saying, ‘the only hoes I care about, pumping in the pipe fumes/car running, windows up, hoping I’ma die soon,’ as if he was sent to Earth to destroy party rap.
Echoes of hope do remain, however. “Slugs”, a song about economic collapse and the dire survivalism many experience under capitalism sees resilience in the titular invertebrates. ‘Slugs is just snails without shells/the perception: evolution fucked them over and failed/but they survive without protection in this jungle they dwell/with giants throwing salt all on their people, can’t consider them frail,’ he raps in the verse. Even if in our arrogance and ignorance we are nothing but slugs, at least we are survivors against all odds.
Production-wise, Oblivion Access navigates between harsh noises, dark ambiance, and lo-fi hip hop beats. It is easy to see why Lil Ugly Mane is so often connected in memes to the most depressing experimental albums people can think of rather than with other underground rap artists. Lil Ugly Mane’s legacy can be felt in his contemporaries like Clipping. and Dälek as well as on newer albums, like the noise intro on Pink Siifu’s latest album from just over a week ago. Oblivion Access was also the inspiration for the music festival of the same name.
Though I may only revisit Lil Ugly Mane rarely, it is hard to deny the part of me that really digs and appreciates what he has done, here. This barren outlook on life is also what attracted me to All Portrait No Chorus by Doseone & Steel Tipped Dove earlier this year and the more cynical lyrical moments from acts like Armand Hammer and Death Grips or, for that matter, even El-P’s dystopian world view. I will still be bumping acts like Clipse and Westside Gun while they talk about their wealth and extravagance more often, but Oblivion Access and Lil Ugly Mane at large will always occupy the most hardened and black parts of my heart.
Daniel Reiser
Lil Ugly Mane is an anomaly. His late night horrorcore resonates in ATX as much as it does in the RVA, so much that an entire festival was renamed in this album’s namesake. Anyone that’s spent time in both cities can understand why. The RVA and the ATX have a certain chill and relaxed art focused expression that isn’t really applicable elsewhere outside of the South. Much like Houston and New Orleans, Austin and Richmond are twin spirits acting out similar cultures 1500 miles apart. Maybe it’s political, maybe it’s a coincidence, most likely both, and while we both share a multitude of transferable cultural dialects and influences, one thing each scene can agree on: this album is a masterpiece.
I mean no disrespect when I say that Lil Ugly Mane is the Southern gothic El-P. If the paranoid schizoid inner city tinfoil ramblings of El Producto reflect metropolitan modern mental breakdown obscurity, LUM reflects the insomniac lonesome late nights enshrouded in desolate oppressive isolation the south percolates: paranoid intrusive thoughts worked out in dark rooms dim-lit between computer screens and blunt cherries.
His approach has always been like this. Ever since Mista Thug Isolation, Lil Ugly Mane has been the pied piper of bleary-eyed late night weirdos , soundtracking the absurdity of the encroaching technological exploitative strangulation of society. With that album, and its early morning scum, gems floated to the surface; “Bitch, I’m Lugubrious,” “Twistin,” and most importantly “Throw Them Guns.” LUM found his voice on that record, and while, in context, he kept more straightforward, experimentation frolicked throughout. From the paranoid TV hissing intro to the slowed down layered vocals harkening back to that big ghost’s presence in H-Town (RIP DJ SCREW), everything about it makes it an absolutely underrated hip hop classic.
Oblivion Access turns the obscurity up, finding LUM leaning heavier into his experimentalism to dizzy and potent effects.
Album starter “Ejaculated Poison Wrench” jangles out like the pouring of spare nuts and bolts in an overturned jar. The noise elements should keep the heads into that tuned in effectively as “Columns” folds Memphis horrorcore with those beautifully dangerous patented LUM ramblings. Think the reverse engineering of the current NY era, just as appealing, but the dark and ugly side, forgoing bravado for obscure mental breakdown.
“Opposite Lanes” takes a similar approach, with its pan flute in a washing machine beat that comes equipped with beautiful wind chimes before the beat drops and LUM is spitting that back alley slime like he was born in Chernobyl. Elsewhere his lyrical prowess reflects his capacity to finesse. “Persistence” starts out janky enough before gorgeous piano and harp breaks through with smooth percussion that allows the ugly man to surf the sonic riptide effortlessly:
‘I’m dead meat, I’m dead weight
Dragging my body home in my chin strength
Probably never make it home again at this pace
Wakin’ the Devil up ’cause I’ve been staying at his place‘
That depressing and chill vibe that exemplifies aplenty late night Southern city impoverished ethos continues with the hazy dream “Drain Counter” with storytelling flexing that’s obligatory for consideration a top-tier emcee before ADHD subversion derails it all for a moment, like an intrusive thought he couldn’t quell fast enough before it bubbled into fruition. The paranoid, esoteric wonderment, and depressoid musings amongst the jangly junkyard samples workout a mellow industrial rap waltz comparable to JPEGMAFIA at half speed. That’s the beauty in what LUM does. He marries the ideas of what generally the horrorcore white kids do, but with a nuance and penchant for authenticity most of those kids lack, with the conceptualization of leftfield production that is comparable to some others playing in similar soundscapes, but like those other acts, he sounds inherently unique and individual.
The Austin that once gave this album’s namesake its own music festival is slowly dying. We have an influx of soft men with faux masculine tendencies operating on outdated principles propping up false intellectualism as designation that their most rad tweets calling for public executions make them feel tough. This place is slowly turning into a conservative hell, but I stay optimistic. Austin has persevered before, and will continue to do so. Hopefully accessing these pieces of shit oblivion. Maybe we can get LUM to soundtrack the revolution. If Oblivion Access is any indication, that’ll be fantastic obscure late night musing horrorcore raps. Fuck you, Joe Lonsdale. Lil Ugly Mane is forever.
