Decades ago, living in Queens Vil and spending an inordinate amount of time reading and listening to things that were outside of the scope of my parent’s day to day stream, my father warned me, be careful what you choose to spend time on, because what you spend time on will be what you become. It’s a fckd up feeling knowing he’s not around anymore to offer me his sage advice.

Dealing with loss can be a confusing cluster. From the outside-in, people will ask you – how ya doing? If you’re like me, chances are you don’t know. Am I supposed to know? From the inside-out, can one ever really know?

What I think I do know, in the near term, is that music helps. It doesn’t help all the time. And not all music. But yea, some music, some of the time. Specifically, Doom’s verse on this hits the fck home. Sending me to a less complicated era in my life.

Yea yea yea, I know, can it be that it was all so simple though? As Doom points out, hallway jux was some real shit. His school sounded sort of like mine, but damn it if I wouldn’t do it all over again if given the opportunity. Maybe, like Droog, I’d consider doing some things differently. Unlike him I graduated on time and kept a more traditional path, but I probably could have spared myself some future strife, prepping to be somebody – that specific somebody – I wanted to be in life. That ‘ol fatherly catch-22. If I only knew then what I wanted to become in life now.

The distinct rhyme patterns and colloquialisms that Doom weaves into Edan’s amped beat change-up hearken back to my middle class Queens with such intensity that I can’t help but wonder how the song came together. Did Doom spit a verse over this exact beat or was it some kind of reference track that was then built up posthumously? And even if it was a fresh spit, did Doom have a stash of Long Beach inspired couplets that finally found it’s medium? Was Droog inspired by an already crafted catchphrase to craft his own narrative? How many more Doom verses are being time capsuled by artists out there?

Like much of YOD’s output, the thoughtfulness and complexity of his writing here suggest a carefully considered, earnest collaboration. I would characterize this track as an exemplar of 2020’s music collaboration seemingly inspired by the more frequently organic collabo’s of the 90s. A pre-pandemic and less technologically-driven era when artists would actually pack one studio, at once, and take turns ejecting saliva onto pop filters.

Next time someone asks me how I’m doing dealing with the loss of my old man, I’ll try to tell them straight up – I don’t know, maybe you can tell me? But what I might also share is that there are times when I feel less angry and less scared. When I’m sharing a home cooked meal with family and friends that warm the heart. When I’m watching my kids enjoy the mundanity of life with uncompromised innocence. And then there are moments when I listen to expert music, thoughtfully composed. Inspired by places and times I can relate to. Comfort music.