To various degrees, Chicago has been rapping over booty music forever. In the 1990s, Crucial Conflict were getting their hip-hop hoedown on with juke rhythms and tempos to go with their bugged-out flows. Meanwhile, DJ Deeon was dropping throbbing ghettohouse singles that sometimes felt like freaky, diced-up Three 6 Mafia jams. DJ L, one of the pioneers of early 2010s Chicago drill production, never fails to mention that the hard bass kicks and pulsating beats were some footwork shit. Years ago he said to Vibe, “Bibby used to always say when he heard my beats: ‘I need the footwork sound.’”
Given that history, the uptick in raunchy-ass Chicago juke rap over the last few years isn’t exactly surprising, especially when you consider there’s been a resurgence in regional dance rap trends happening everywhere: Philly club rap, Dallas boogie, New Orleans bounce, to name a few that are popping. There are probably a bunch of reasons why, including post-Covid nostalgia for simpler times when it was a lot easier and cheaper to dance the pain away Rod Lee-style in your own neighborhood, but there’s also the fact that easily clipped dance-rap goes crazy on TikTok. Almost all of the great juke rap songs of the 2020s took off on the app, such as Mello Buckzz’s “Move,” which added rapid drill flows and booty-bouncing commands to a swipe of DJ Roc’s kinetic footwork joint “Pop Baby,” and the madness of Lil M.U.’s “Top of Cars,” where the blaring car-honk sample makes it feel like you’re at a block party that’s getting out of control. Silliest of all the mega-viral hits to come out of the Chicago scene might just be Glizzy Glow’s “Cutwater,” a delirious ode to getting fucked up.
No score yet, be the first to add.
I think I first heard Glizzy Glow’s unofficial commercial for the canned cocktail, rumored to get you blasted like the original recipe of Four Loko, in 10-to-15 second snippets on TikTok. Sometimes I came across the part where producer Lil Sha’s bouncy intro slides right into Glow’s sloppy growls, though the part that eventually got stuck in my head was when she listed off all the things that go down—twerking, fighting, etc.—after she and her girls get their buzz. The song blew up big enough that I copped a case of the drinks (terrible, almost like alcoholic Pixy Stix) and Glow landed a fun YKNiece feature for the “Cutwater” remix on her major label debut, Trench Baddie.
The problem with Trench Baddie, though, is that now she has to establish herself as the kind of professional rapper that a bigtime label about their bottom line like Geffen would want to keep giving bags to. It always feels weird to review mixtapes like these, because the point isn’t necessarily to make a good project but to market-test which sort of songs should be her thing. Over 17 tracks, Glizzy Glow takes a swing at her own version of already hot songs. “The Breakup Song” is Glizzy Glow’s take on the futuristic vibes popular in Atlanta right now, but her raps are too monotone—not as player-smooth as Bankroll Ni nor as bubblegum-sweet as BunnaB, whose feature steals the show. “Miami” is a Sexyy Red-style spring break anthem without the over-the-top personality and polarizing edge of actual Sexyy Red spring break anthems. “On They Azz” is a carbon copy of Latto and Cardi B’s “Put It On Da Floor Again” with going-through-the-motions energy and punchlines that exist for no other reason than to hopefully go viral: “Ayooo, chef I need a chopped cheese,” she says at one point, quoting the “Ocky Way” bodega videos. The second-hand embarrassment is real.
It goes a lot better when her cribbing seems inspired rather than obligatory. The chilled-out Gucci flow and brief Dej Loaf homage of “Lil Caesars” fits her too-cool-to-be-bothered attitude. Her fired-up Sada Baby impression on “Pick Em Up” is so on point that I’m convinced she can rap Bartier Bounty front to back. The Memphis crunk of “Bad Influence” is incredibly generic, but her drunk-ish ad-libs and messy chorus don’t feel like they could’ve come out of a boardroom—she sounds like she’s just talking shit with her friends. The couple of juke rap songs on Trench Baddie have that feel, too: It’s in the jittery romance of “Lil Shawty,” the filthy-flirty bounce of “Poundcake,” and the way the beat empties out halfway through “BYBBO” so Glow can MC the twerk battle. The horny specificity of the sex instructions on “Shake” are begging to be looped by a footwork DJ: “Grab my ankles, fuck me raw/Put your mouth up on my toes.” Glizzy Glow and her label might be looking across the map for the dollar signs, but her sound is at home.
