Note: This article contains references to suicide.
Steeped in angst and cinematic instrumentation, the most recent wave of street rap emerging from the DMV area resembles a post-grunge equivalent to the region’s grungy, drill-inspired “free car” sound that gained traction in the early 2020s. Though there’s a rhythmic link between these movements, each using deadpan triplet flows and piercing hi-hat rolls to create a latticework of pulses, new faces like Jaeychino, HavinMotion, and Nino Paid embrace meditative atmospheres and emotional sensitivity that sets them apart from their peers. Of these upstarts, Maryland’s Nino Paid delivers far and away the most refined iteration of this new sound. His beat selection isn’t quite as eccentric as the low-bitrate cybersludge backing Jaeychino’s mixtape output, but the cleaner sound design calls attention to his meticulous and affecting lyricism. Nino’s debut album, Can’t Go Bacc, and breakout singles like “Pain & Possibilities,” processed the memory of a turbulent childhood spent in abusive foster homes, surfacing excruciatingly detailed recollections in hopes of healing.
Love Me As I Am, Nino Paid’s second full-length, is more rooted in the present. Though he’s still plagued by his past, the prevailing mood is urgency. Nino is acutely aware that relevancy—and his newfound financial stability—can be fleeting. “What if I’m already trying my hardest? Fuck that, what if I’m already done for?” he raps on “Something to Live For,” opening the album’s first verse. On “Play This at My Funeral,” his rumination takes on a fatalistic tone. “Nobody told me that kids like me, who grew up with ACEs [adverse childhood experiences], die way faster, so maybe I’m already cooked,” he raps over a muffled, guitar-driven production that sounds like early Explosions in the Sky. It’s the opposite of a victory lap, acknowledging that what’s gained can be easily lost, especially within the context of cyclical trauma.
Despite writing through this depressive lens, Nino manages to impart a message of hope that transcends the tropes of contemporary pain rap: If everything is temporary, appreciate the time that you’re given and continue to live alongside your anxieties. “I’m comfortable spending this money, I know I can’t take it whenever my hearse come,” Nino raps on the chorus of “Redemption.” The track’s production is spacious and crisp, directing attention to Nino’s punched-in vocals, but it’s decorated with subtle details that feel immersive. On its own, the glistening keyboard loop might read as maudlin, but the short bursts of deep-fried bass and phantasmal ad-libs that drift between left and right blend a sense of paranoia into sadness.
