Denzel Curry’s career trajectory is full of sharp pivots and surprise connections. In recent years, he’s evolved into an emissary of Florida hip-hop and a rap star at the nexus of niche underground fame and household ubiquity, able to stunt on blockbuster movie soundtracks one minute and do pop-ups at Chinatown arcades with no security the next. Who else is one degree of separation away from a range of artists as diverse as fellow Floridians Rick Ross and 454, Deftones’ Chino Moreno, and British composer the Haxan Cloak? In lockstep with the raucous Southern tributes of his recent King of the Mischievous South series, he’s now formed The Scythe, a supergroup consisting of him, TiaCorine, BKTHERULA, FERG, and fellow Raider Klan member Key Nyata. Alone, they each have songs capable of tearing the roof off the club and blowing your mind with dope bars. But together—at least at this stage—the group’s synthesis is ill-defined. As zonky cross-generational ciphers go, the group’s debut, Strictly 4 the Scythe, is no Hypnotize Camp Posse, the amalgam of Three 6 Mafia and a grip of artists signed to their Hypnotize Minds label in the early 2000s. But it still mostly offers low-stakes, high-energy fun.
Even though two of its members aren’t from the South (Key Nyata claims Seattle, while FERG couldn’t be more New York if he tried), the album’s production moves with the viscous bounce native to Memphis, Curry’s Florida, BK’s Atlanta, and Tia’s North Carolina. Opener “The Scythe,” with its chanting hook and its epic four-on-the-floor beat, is textbook “Tear da Club Up” worship, but instead of horrorcore-inspired moshpit fights, they pop shit about personal brands and group solidarity. The throbbing spring of “Lit Effect” could’ve easily ended up on BK’s last album LUCY, while “You Ain’t Gotta Lie” conjures the jittery spark of candy-colored Florida fast music, down to its 454 feature. Lyrically, Strictly 4 the Scythe is essentially eight tracks of lyrical sparring, everyone busting out trademark flows to keep the swords sharp. No lofty ambitions or hifalutin concepts; grab the mic, rep your set, and rap like hell with the homies.
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There’s plenty of amped moments, most courtesy of the women in the group. BK stomps through the pastel crunch of standout track “Tan,” getting head during 4DX screenings of Spider-Man while trying to open her date’s third eye; and Tia achieves flow state on all three of her verses, particularly over the chipmunk soul crunk of “Hoopty” and on the backend of “The Scythe,” where she seduces her opp’s man before sending him home in a Lyft. But there’s no song with all five members, leaving what’s supposed to be a group album feeling more like a glorified compilation of tracks taken from separate studio sessions, and not in the cool mixtape way.
