Is anyone genuinely surprised this where we’ve ended up? Ice Spice‘s rapid ascension to fame makes perfect sense: with Cardi endlessly delaying a sophomore LP and Nicki seething and brooding in between snarling at anyone with the nerve to address her hypocrisy and marriage to a predator, Spice was instantly palatable. While rivals such as Latto may be more talented, Spice possesses an undeniable charm and innate likability, and – crucially – keeps it simple.
There hasn’t been all too much to her narrative, but when you blow up off a song like “goo”, there doesn’t really need to be. Yet, concerns as to her possible longevity arrived almost instantly. “Boy’s a Liar” was special due to Pinkpantheress, with Spice simply along for the ride as the flavor of the month. Meanwhile, her rush to seek out lifeless collaborations with Taylor Swift and Nicki (what a waste of that Barbie sample, yeesh) felt like the moves of a veteran rapper desperate to remain relevant, not a fledgling, would-be star. Next thing you knew, she was hired to entertain Kim Kardashian’s kids, the it girl and a glorified babysitter, all at once.
Her fragile alliance of convenience with Minaj (gasp!) rapidly imploded, and her position suddenly seemed a tad precarious, no longer particularly welcomed by either team Cardi or the Barbz, and having ruffled feathers with just about everyone in her vicinity. As such, the guests are limited to an embattled Travis Scott, a reviled Gunna, and the waste of sonic space that is her alleged boyfriend, Central Cee.
So, then, how did she get this far? Her appeal is easy to pin down: charisma, beauty, and a get to the point already nonchalance. If Nicki is finesse and Cardi is a blunt instrument, Spice learned from the latter and filed her style down to a stump. This isn’t necessarily an insult, at her best she’s undeniably fun, a goofy, self-aware party starter while wagging their tongue at you. Some of her music almost commands a criticism proof simplicity: you can bemoan every verse she spits sounding the same, but that’s the damn point. She’s certainly aware of fit: the 10 tracks that make up debut album Y2K! are shorter than, say, Lupe Fiasco’s eight track Samurai. Before you jump down my throat, this isn’t to compare the projects themselves; they have entirely different aims. It’s simply to say: this thing is damn short, and it’s not because she has DAYTONA level goals, people. It’s because she’s afraid for it to be any longer.
From day one, Ice Spice was clear about her goals: putting out hits, getting featured on big songs, in short, being successful. Who can blame her? For a moment there, it was in sight. Yet with the muted arrival of Y2K!, she’s proven to be a surprisingly self-conscious artist. To call it a tentative step doesn’t do it justice: more than anything, Spice seems unsure of herself here. She’s afraid to fully engage with new ideas, so rarely leaves her archetypal flow, yet meanders too much to fully engage with what could have been her signature sound.
If anyone emerges as a true MVP on Y2K!, it’s undeniably RiotUSA. Spice’s longtime producer seems to be emerging more and more quickly as the primer reason for her rise. His incredibly in your face, forceful sound merges two emphatic poles: the stomp of Shawty Redd’s peak and the barrage of Drill. To say the least, it’s incredibly effective, and has propelled all of her best songs. Here he finds time to deliver the expected (album opener “Phatt Batt”) as well as build on his sound with surprising detours. “Did It First” features an addictive filtered vocal sample and verges readily (and delightfully) into overt pop. “Bitch I’m Packin’” slams into the room with a near frightening level of aggression, and “BB Belt” is practically alien, between horror fare and a science fiction dystopia.
It’s too bad Spice utters things like, “I’m his poopie, but I never smell,” across it. That’s how a lot of this goes. Whereas once her cringe lines were either amusing or simply worthy of a bemused shrug, they begin to grate thin here, even across such a short LP. Longevity may just not be her thing. There’s something to be said for burning bright and fast, but with the limp arrival of Y2K! it seems this room went dark long before we were able to leave the party.
