On his third studio album, Ugly, British rapper Tyron Kaymone Frampton—a.k.a. Slowthai—embraces a caffeinated punk sound that suggests a cross between Cockney Rejects and Dizzee Rascal. Tracks such as “Selfish” and “Feel Good” are layered with thick rock guitar and bass, yet the album also takes EDM elements most associated with clubbing and employs them, counterintuitively, for both the comedown and hangover.
Slowthai has dabbled in rock influences before, especially on 2019’s post-punk-inspired “Doorman,” but with Ugly he moves into almost post-genre territory. His vocals, which emphasize his working-class accent, show off his range throughout. He yells as much as he raps, barking ad libs on the title track and ending “Yum” with some harrowing screams.
Ugly is, in many ways, indebted to kitchen-sink realism, with its emphasis on the lives of the poor in the U.K. “Never Again,” whose narrator reminisces about running into an ex-girlfriend—now pushing around another man’s child in a pram—and then learning that she was killed by her husband, sounds like the treatment to a lost Ken Loach film.
Further reinforcing the album’s allegiance to the downtrodden are the references to drug abuse. “Fuck It Puppet,” for one, is structured by Slowthai as an argument with himself, performed in two voices, about addiction that only lasts one verse. And “Wotz Funny” recounts an even bleaker story about a teacher whose heroin habit leads her to “a ditch with a sleeping bag.”
Elsewhere, on “Yum,” Slowthai relates an unpleasant tale of chem sex, where he can’t maintain an erection, rivaling Danny Brown’s Atrocity Exhibition for grim hedonism: “Excuse me while I self-destruct, ‘cause I don’t give a fuck.” Chilly percussion creates an anxious mood before the track even gets going, enhanced by the rapper’s heavy breathing. Even the tuneful, guitar-based “Happy” begins with the rapper bemoaning his tendency to think with his dick.
Slowthai has always sounded tormented by life’s struggles, and he uses first person throughout Ugly, even if the experiences he describes aren’t all autobiographical. The album’s prettier touches, like the synth pads on “Never Again” or the acoustic guitar on “25% Club” don’t do much to lighten the mood. Despite its allusions to seeking therapy, listening to the album feels like accompanying a friend on a disastrous Saturday night bender.
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