In an internet rap world full of post-Travis Scott maximalism and Opium-brained mythmaking, it’s sort of nice to hear a rapper that just sounds like a regular dude. Enter Seventhirtyatmorning, a former University of Minnesota student who was so often assumed to be an artist, thanks to his dyed blond locs and fashion-conscious wardrobe, that he downloaded BandLab and became one. Since then, the Minneapolis rapper has been feeding the round-the-clock IG blog machine with a steady stream of fit pics and lush mixtapes that fall somewhere between the scrappy Discord plugg of tdf and the heavily studied lifestyle rap of ØWay. On the surface, his new album Antione’s Son is the same old same old—airy melodies, drug talk, vomiting ad-libs—but punched up by suburban ennui and in-the-weeds romantic tales that makes the music feel refreshingly personal.
Listening to Seventhirtyatmorning is almost like you’re slumped on the couch playing 2K with your friend, as they fill you in on all the toxic shit that’s been going on between them and their girl. Here’s the stories of their tit-for-tat cheating on “sick kid,” which he tells us about with Yeat-ish computerized filters on his nasally voice. Or what about the time on “vr” where he tried to patch up all of their communication issues by getting her a puppy. Been there. Can’t forget that her attitude killed the vibe of their vacation to Japan (“souls attached”). Or that his drug use made him a chore to hang around: “Yeah, I said some fuck shit off the Xans, I ain’t mean nothin,” he croaks in his best Lucki voice on “shooting deep,” a track ruined by a mushmouthed Russian rapper named Baby Cute. It’s like he has nothing else to do in Minneapolis but to get at the root of what’s so fucked up about their on-again, off-again relationship.
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