Few figures in Detroit’s rap landscape have remained as consistent throughout the ebbs and flows of the genre’s evolution as Black Milk and Fat Ray, epitomizing the brand of resiliency endemic to that lower right quadrant of The Mitten. Their respective journeys are practices in patience, with their 2008 collaboration The Set Up as an inflection point: Milk made his bones crafting soulful, tender boom-bap beats for the likes of Slum Village and Elzhi in the early 2000s, before forging an adventurous path in the post-J Dilla world with his solo projects marked by a fusion of jazz and funk production. Fat Ray moved through the city’s proving-ground clubs with a booming register and shrewd wordplay, grinding in independent circles before finding a supportive environment in Danny Brown’s Bruiser Brigade. Their latest full-length link-up, Food From the Gods, conjures up images of two weary travelers trading secrets and stories in the corner of a dark tavern, insulated from the cold and bustle in their own sphere of comfort.
On Food From the Gods, Fat Ray and Milk don’t hide their urge to cement themselves as guiding lights from the city’s elder generation: “Real D-Boy, know we got to protect the game/Peep the game, broke it down for you, let you keep the change,” Fat Ray spits on “Talcum.” The record is a brisk exhibition that backs up that claim, the result of a partnership that’s only gotten stronger over time. The duo is in lockstep: romping through a dark, foreboding landscape of Milk’s creation, propelling each other forward with a reliable, genuine chemistry.
On the surface, Fat Ray’s voice and his writing feel incongruous. His baritone growls almost mask the nimble precision of his wordplay, making the minute feel massive with every syllable. The evocations of graveyards, frigid January nights, and being tied to the bed from Misery turn “ELDERBERRY” into a macabre block spin. He bounces from stunting his pink gator-skin shoes, melting Klondike bars with his breath, to breaking down wealth disparities on “EL HONGO (The Mushroom),” where it almost feels as though he’s rapping to inches away from your nose. It doesn’t hurt that Fat Ray can be deathly funny. At times, this manifests in goofy snafus that that trip up the momentum—the Ice Spice-inspired “you think you the shit” line on the laidback “STASH” is akin to the rapper stepping on a cartoon rake—but more often than not, his humor imbues Food From the Gods with personality and keeps the record from becoming self-serious.
