Unapologetic, brash, brilliance: JPEGMAFIA at The New Parish

JPEGMAFIA relishes the stage. Swaggering around as if possessed, a mischievous grin peering out from under his Air Force cap, Peggy (as his fans affectionately call him) is in his element. “Stage presence”, that overused and often nondescript term, seems especially appropriate here. It is hard to describe Peggy’s comfort in anarchy, surrounded by 20-year-olds frantically moshing as the sound of glass shattering smashes the cheers of the crowd. Up against the metal railings, the pressure is immense. The collective force has formed the crowd into a conglomerate, a living being that swells and breathes with the music. Of course, the crowd at The New Parish knows every bar, every verse, and every rhyme. I would expect nothing less from Oakland.

“WHITE BOY BETTER PUT HIS HANDS UP!”, the crowd screams along with Peggy as the mosh pit ignites into flame. Peggy’s subversive sense of humor is a signature of his lyricism, and he frequently and gleefully talks shit on his audience (primarily 20-year-old white guys) as they enjoy every second of it (myself included). His music has a notably dark sound, and the humor is a welcome addition to what would otherwise be a rather nihilistic affair. Old releases, like “I just killed a cop now I’m horny” or “Libtard anthem” blurred his role as villain or hero, satirist or anarchist. It is in this chaos that Peggy finds himself at home. Sonically, his experimental production parallels this volatility, and he swings between unbound aggression and vulnerable reflection with ease.

Corrosive provocation and unapologetic abrasion can be a barrier for many who try to listen to JPEGMAFIA’s music, and understandably so. What I’ve found to be true is that repeated listens bring out a level of complexity and meaning to the music that at first glance appeared overly crude and unrelenting. All My Heroes Are Cornballs (2019) is probably Peggy’s most accessible work to date, and he effortlessly blends pop, R&B, punk, and hip hop into something wholly his own. The creativity in the sampling, the chord arrangements, and the cohesion in sound across the project surpass anything he’s done before. Veteran (2018) may have been explosively brilliant at times, but was hampered by a lack of dimension and songs that felt empty or out of place. AMHAC sees Peggy passionately and confidently guiding an idea, a sound, through an impossibly complex and eclectic arrangement of influences. In my opinion, All My Heroes Are Cornballs is a classic experimental hip hop album, one that will inspire future artists that seek to emulate its creative brilliance.