Bones
Good luck to anybody who discovers Bones through his interpolation on “Canal St.” — if that’s how you wind up catching onto and enjoying the L.A.-based rapper’s copious mixtapes (including titles like Skinny, Rotten, Garbage, Creep, and Cracker), you’ll probably wind up facing an army of devotees gunning for hypebeasts and checking your cred card. That’s not too weird on a fundamental fan-cult level, though — part of Bones’ appeal ties into just how far his recorded output and geographical reach outpaced his press visibility and tastemaker hype, at least until relatively recently. Couple that with his sleepless work ethic and his conscious decision to give away his music for free, and the devotion makes a lot more sense. And even with the peak-buzz haze of cloud rap dissipating in the wake of whatever next newness bloggers are chasing, Bones’ style — found-footage VHS queasiness and ’90s-damaged No Limit coping mechanisms filtered through an alienated rural-Michigan upbringing — are too evocative for the fading-trend slushpile. His track “Dirt” is lifted for “Canal St.,” with its anti-counterfeit hook (“You say you got 'em guns, but I’ve never seen you bang/ You say you get 'em drugs, but I’ve never seen you slang”) given new light in the context of Rocky’s introspection at being someone who’s never had that concern.