Cozy Tapes Vol. 1: Friends begins with a skit of the A$AP Mob crew speaking on just how cozy they are. “N*ggas ask me what my inspiration was I tell ‘em global warming,” snarls A$AP Rocky. It’s hilarious because of the dream it represents. New York has always been dutifully aspirational, contrasting its middle-of-an-urban-jungle reality with a shot at the good life. This means insulation from the elements. It’s a basic desire, but it means everything in a place where you literally share every square inch of real estate with giant, pizza eating rats, roaches, pumpkin spice lattes and the NYPD. It’s everything. Hence the fascination with legacy, upper-crust brands, their remnants, and their resultant sub-cultures There are the ‘Lo heads; the dandies; the hypebeasts; the sneakerheads, all of them pushing back against a city that wants to destroy your fresh in murky, 8-foot-deep puddles of slush. Cozy is like athleisure, but while one is decidedly classist, being cozy has Horatio Alger roots.

The cozy ethos



Part of the focus on cozy is what the Mob crew has been serving all along: a New York of their own group consciousness where being chill is a form of protest. A middle finger to the hulking skyscrapers and crumbling buildings; the shrill sirens and mendacity of the city’s immigrant dreams deferred. So it’s no wonder that Rocky told HipHopDX’s Ural Garrett this album was for Yams “happiest thoughts.” What else could it be? The album’s tone is celebratory. Jiggy rap 2.0 set against the runaway success of A$AP Rocky, A$AP Yams and the tribe of A$AP members, all talented, that now have a ledge in music, fashion and stunting.

Hip-hop as country club



The album is an exhibition. A gallery of well-deserved excess. It’s the rare instance of rap for rap’s sake that moves you with its sheer tenacity. Not only did the Mob triple down on their vision of hip-hop as a lavish country club where every song is a posse track, but it’s inclusive. The feature list is extensive. Wiz Khalifa, Tyler, The Creator, Madeintoyo, Offset, Playboi Carti and more make an appearance. Some even steal the show. Skepta’s verse on “Put That On My Set” sees his extraordinary voice and cadence collapse into a guttural stream-of-consciousness.

azealia
Photo: Giphy


Watching the rise of cozy



For those of us on the outskirts of the New York rap scene when the A$AP crew rose to stardom, Yams was a visionary. He’s the one who got Rocky rapping in the cool gospel of Houston. He’s the one who pioneered countless artists on his legendary Tumblr. He’s the one who hid A$AP Rocky from us while we were hunting him down, trying to figure out who the kid with the purple swag was. The one who helped negotiate their incredible deal with Polo Grounds.

In memory of A$AP Yams



Last year, Danny Boyle and Aaron Sorkin released Steve Jobs with Michael Fassbender starring as the demonstrative visionary. There’s a scene where Steve Wozniak (creator of the Apple II) asks what’s so special about Jobs. He can’t code. He can’t build a circuit board and didn’t know his way around a soldering iron. Steve looks at him and says “you’re a great musician in the orchestra, Steve. But I play the orchestra.” Yams was like that. And this orchestra, it thunders.




Want more music content like this? Sign up for Blavity’s daily newsletter!