Only time and those who hold the rights to his music will tell.
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I’m hoping for the former, a future where Doe B becomes Montgomery’s Mac Dre. They may be great, or they may be generic, lackluster trap fare. There are ostensibly two hundred unreleased Doe B tracks in the vault. And any man who has the sense to make the cover his debut mixtape look like a cross between Biggie and Slick Rick was definitely on the right track. That said, songs like “2 Many” and “Return of Da Mac ” (below) are worth a lifetime supply of Gucci eye patches. The banging, trap anthems admirably uphold the Southern tradition, but don’t reinvent the Vogue wheel. so intense in the case of rail lines that it cost hundreds of laborers their lives).
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ZIP files of his catalogue spread across the far reaches of the rapidly-declining blogosphere. The trap that executives often fall into, however, is assuming that. There’s currently no way of knowing whether Doe B would’ve become Montgomery’s Kevin Gates – a street rapper far above par with an uncanny ear for pop melody – or been creatively stifled and watered down by the machine, fractured. With all the above said and meant, whether or not Doe B would’ve realized his potential is not for me to say. The last minute features his short and heartfelt eulogy, his pledge to keep Doe B’s name alive. He delivers one of his best verses in recent memory, confirming that he’s best suited for the role of reflective rubber band man rather than swaggering trigger man. We’ll never know just how close he was to making a clean break. Homicidal survival tactics notwithstanding, the inherent pain and fear in embedded in Doe B’s voice here points to the harrowing possibility that he desperately wanted out of the life. These are the words of the modern Montgomery blues, the narrative of a world where, unfortunately, Doe B’s absence may have saved another Montgomery native (“Gotta kill these niggas/ I can’t see them killing me”). More than anything, Doe B’s lyrics are direct and cut deeply (“I don’t know why I can’t get no sleep / I don’t know why the pain runs so deep”).
It’s near perfect throughout, and his singing on the hook proves he was capable of carrying a tune better than many consigned for such duties. Meditating on the loss of family, friends, and fellow street soldiers, he adopts a melodic cadence that borders on crooning. The beat is as banging as it is melancholic – twinkling keys and crisp claps backed by heavy bass and angelic vocals – and Doe B opens with an honest, unadorned thesis: “I got a lot of questions, but no answers, man.” With the violence surrounding Doe B’s demise, his latest posthumous release, “Why,” is the most meaningful. The proverbial wings clipped just as he’d begun his ascent. As his last retweet revealed, he felt “GREAT.” All caps. A twenty-two-year-old gone too soon, still relishing the success of his first mixtape and on the verge of releasing his Grand Hustle/Interscope debut. Max Bell also wishes a happy birthday to Slick Rick the Ruler.ĭoe B was gunned down outside a Montgomery club in December.
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