Singer? Painter? Rapper? Tumblr maven? Sadboy extraordinaire? Such are the labels one might apply to Miami’s Lofty305. It’s been an explosive year for the South Florida underground, as the Raider Klan continues to exert their independent influence, and Denzel Curry springs into the mainstream. Both groups being frequent collaborators to Lofty and his Metro Zu brothers, it doesn’t seem far fetched to think the young rappers are ‘next up’.
Posh Pharoah is less a rap album than an outpouring of emotion over spacey trap beats. We’ve seen a few of these artists recently – Young Lean, Spooky Black, to name a few – but where these other artists emphasize RnB, Lofty seeks an atmosphere. The cavernous beats dominate the tracks due to the relatively short verses Lofty has, reverberating hypnotically, simultaneously rising above the vocal tracks, melding into them, then sinking back below their surface.
Meditations on women, both imagined ideals and harsh realities, are allowed to comingle with classic video game samples. The melancholic tone makes Lofty’s music eminently necessary escapism, for all parties involved. It may be the dangerous kind your parents warned you about – forgetting your problems instead of dealing with them, distracting yourself – but once drawn into Lofty’s world, one cannot help sympathize with the stark tenderness and desperation that pervade the album. He’s not trapping. He’s not shooting anyone. He’s trying to find his way, a nerdy kid pigeonholed into rap’s ever-blossoming subgenres—a man encountering the highs and lows of sex. For tracks that mimic leaned out nonchalance and callousness of contemporaries, Lofty’s lyrics and disjointed singing provide a break, a sincerity all-too necessary, and rare in today’s rap game.