Max B - Money Make Me Feel Better (2011, Amalgam Digital)
I haven’t ridden the wave (pause) too loyally in the last year or so; in 08/09, Biggavel’s music was all I was listened to aside from Brick Squad, and the peak of my listening experience came when I was felt myself becoming a victim to alcoholism, no lie. Max B’s strained-vocals, the sheer struggle found within his own drunken crooning, perfectly complimented long nights of binge drinking and photobook-memories (ayo?). When I kicked that habit, I sorta fell out of listening to Max’s music - I still considered myself a loyal follower of the Wave God (word to RNT), but listening to his music brought up memories of hugging the porcelain throne and leaving pictures of past wifeys soiled with more than just tears (NULLUS). I think I’ve already recounted too much of my own personal experiences though, and I’ll just get to the subject at hand (no homo).
Vigilante Season was set to be his Amalgam debut at the tail-end of 2009, but right before it could see release that Holiday season, Biggavel ended up catching a case and getting locked up for, presumably, the remainder of his life. As blunt as that may be, and as disparaging as it sounds, you can’t look at it that way; the man left behind so much great music in his four on the mixtape circuit, producing more potential hits than most rappers do in twenty years and collecting a cult fanbase that these blog rappers salivate for. With Vigilante Season, finally set to drop on March 29th, Max’s legacy will be further solidified with his true debut album, and if this song is any indication, it’ll certainly be respectful of the Wave.
Produced by eternally-underrated former-super producer turned local legend, Dame Grease, Money Make Me Feel Better isn’t the best collaboration the duo have done, but that’s a tall feat considering the huge amount of output the two released in their time working together. Dame creates a pretty uplifting beat for Max to flow to; full of jingling bells and a synth-line reminiscent of Lil C’s trademark style. Though it has a little bit of a Southern influence to it in that sense, it retains its raw New York essence; rinsing over those oft-polished sounds with a gritty layer of Northeast gutter swag.
Max himself is in true form; it’s hard to tell when this was recorded, as the sorrow heard in his voice on his last Public Domain effort (PD6) is absent here, his wino-flow still sounding broken but more so in a celebratory manner (and not nearly as heartbroken as he sounded on I Don’t Wanna Go Back”). He’s still going in on Jimmy, and the subject matter is classic Biggavel; life fucking sucks, but money cures all ailments.
