The evolution of Surf Gang Records has been staggering to witness. What began as a hub for producers evilgiane, Harrison, Eera, and friends to leave their stamp on then-emergent mutations of drill seeping onto the New York airwaves has become a thriving network stretching from hip-hop’s upper echelons to the trenches of SoundCloud and bedroom studios. Not every artist who releases a project through the label is technically part of the collective, but they all share a curiosity for a rap future diverse enough to challenge fanbases and divide forums for years to come. Earl Sweatshirt and MIKE recently joked about their mesmerizing Pompeii // Utility alienating the half of their audience who only came for the dingy soul loops, but they, and the rest of Surf Gang, are doing more than most to collapse the binaries between styles and create watercolors from the blurred lines.
Another kindred spirit is South London’s Omari Lyseight. The prolific rapper-producer has been bridging the gaps between grime, funky house, and woozy beat tapes since 2016, both as a founder of Trackout Records and producer and DJ for the group Ammi Boyz. He’s been in the orbits of Surf Gang and MIKE’s 10k for years, his twangy beats soundtracking NTS radio shows and a handful of the loopier singles from Sideshow’s Tigray Funk and Pompeii // Utility. On Digital, his debut for Surf Gang, he’s centerstage and following the soulful rap and electro-pop fusion he’s been tinkering with for years to its logical extreme.
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The beats on Digital bear many Surf Gang hallmarks—glitchy drum programming, austere sample choices set to minimal bounce, synths and keyboards smeared on the bottom layer like cream cheese on a bagel—but they are frequently more ambitious with their scope and scale. Where giane’s recent #HEAVENSGATE VOL. 2 continued to test how far he can stretch his bare-bones approach, Omari’s arrangements often border on the maximal. Take early highlight “Detonate the Fuse,” a co-production with .cutspace and gyo, which has a deep murmur of a low end clashing with hi-pitched squeals and jackknifing bass warbles that add depth. It’s only a few degrees removed from Clams Casino or Main Attraktionz’s era of cloud rap, and London’s Jadasea skates his way through the ominous madness. “East End,” the album’s best song, is anchored by springy 808s that hit like mallets on a steel drum and a breezy melody fit for guest 454’s ecstatic Florida fast rap. If joints had heat signatures, the screen would be awash in color.
There’s a smooth clarity to most of these songs, which grants different textures and dimensions to even Lyseight’s most restrained beats. What little distortion there is only accents the lush drums and synths, all unfurling as clearly as the vocals. The strut of “Square” lands somewhere between trap, rage, and plugg, and it coaxes a vicious verse out of Earl Sweatshirt (“Gotta live out the lie that you rap/’Til I put you back on the sidewalk square”). “On Point,” the only track that sounds any kind of gauzy, is girded by the gorgeous melody and vocals from London rapper Caynes at its center. Stacked next to the chipper and shimmering “High,” featuring Tan Cressida signee Cletus Strap, they feel like they were both sampled from the same daydream.
