Hip-Hop’s Best Kept Secret: Billy Woods

Talking about Billy Woods’ Aethiopes isn’t an easy writeup for me…

I know I love the album. It’s a potent listening experience that lured me the moment I heard the opening notes: jangly, jazzy, minor-keyed, arrhythmic guitar noodling paired with ambient cymbal work. “Asylum” (the opening track) eventually settles into a loose but muted beat. The rapping begins. 

Woods and his cohorts (but especially Woods) do not rap like other rappers. The phrases end with rhymes, sure; but the delivery is only slightly tethered to the groove. Like an expert jazz soloist, the performers’ cadences wander off time only to land seamlessly back into place. The lyrics are not typical either. They eschew conventional storytelling. Instead, they get the point via imagery, turns of phrase, and esoteric references (many of which I still have not decoded).

I have to admit, I don’t fully know what the album is about. As a result, I won’t offer you my guesses. There are bits and pieces of meaning that I can pick out of the hazy fray, but the bigger picture amounts to something vague. And that tends to be true of many unforgettable works of art.

The feeling I get when I listen to Aethiopes is distinct yet hard to explain. I’ve felt this way before, when I’ve heard or seen something for the first time and can immediately know that it’s ineffably profound. These sorts of artistic works defy a tendency commonly found in most others: the tendency to want to be understood.

In film, I recall 1969’s Easy Rider and the more recent French-Belgian horror picture Titane. In music, the bluesy Slowcore band Karate comes to mind. Singer and guitarist Geoff Farina doesn’t tell stories. Farina (and Woods alike) use instrumentation to cast a mood. From that mood, the tone of their voices, and abstract wordplay, they express themselves. But I don’t know who the people in their songs are. And I don’t know whether they’re good or bad. I don’t know if they’re in love. I don’t even know if they exist in the same space. Perhaps, they don’t share a bond or location, but rather some intangible thread. I’m only offered glimpses in to these musical worlds by way of intriguing lyrical passages peppered throughout. 

These works are special— doubtlessly profound but beyond interpretation. I can’t tell you why, I just Get It.

I’m declining the urge to quote my favorite lyrics or describe my favorite beats from Aethiopes. Dozens of listens in and I’m still discovering this record, and I’m imploring you to do the same. 

Woods’ may trudge through the abstract, but he uses his medium deliberately. I’m sure of this because I can hear his razor-sharp wit amid the overall murkiness. 

It’s a real magic trick. Like writing a note to yourself with a worn, dull pencil. The words are barely legible. But the next time you look at your notepad, it’s as if your memory is wrong. You did sharpen that pencil a little bit before you scribbled. And each offhand glance at your handwriting reveals a clearer missive. 

But the returns on clarity are diminishing. The tip of the pencil breaks and you’re left with a semblance of an interpretable message. 

Aethiopes is similar in that way. Stark truths are uttered, one after another, but you’re not told what it all means.