Iggy singsongs the tune unaided on what are undeniably the six sketchiest tracks musically - tracks that just as undeniably hold up fine anyway, in part because each fleshes out and aestheticizes her backstory better than her first two hits do. and decisive guidance from a female British management team.įinally, 12 songs in 42 minutes appeared in April - all rapped, all but one with a sung chorus or mini-chorus. There were backers who backed off and lessons from Atlanta rappers and a few mixtapes - try Ignorant Art, which doesn’t live up to its title in part because nothing could - and a major affair with A$AP Rocky and an obscure deal with T.I. Azalea wants diamonds, and she says as much in The New Classic‘s non-chartbound finale “F- Love.” Inspired at age 12 by Tupac, whose flow was never world-class either, she spent the next half of her life transforming herself into a hip-hop star. So let New Zealander Lorde, the daughter of a civil engineer, break pop by dissing Maybach materialism. You want authentic? Iggy Azalea has all the lineaments of a risk-taking young rebel without a well-off family to back her up. And without doubt she flew off at 16 to seek her fortune. Clearly Amethyst hitchhiked the 400 miles to Sydney more often than a 13-year-old female should, which is never. Clearly her parents were hippies her surfer father had a part-time stage career, while her mother became a hotel cleaner-turned-substitute teacher because she had two kids in her charge. Mullumbimby, the New South Wales town where she grew up, would seem to be the kind of half-bohemian settlement you find on the northern California coast, only warmer and with better surf - that is, not the true boondocks many assume. Either way, those lines nail something both real and factual about her. Iggy’s many haters charge that she uses ghostwriters, which is easy to say and hard to prove and so what anyway - gee, she may have scrubbed fewer floors earning airfare to Miami than she claims to boot.
This is something she wants us to remember.
Five tracks later the words “No money, no family/16 in the middle of Miami” return as the maxi-hook of the excellent non-breakout debut single “Work.” It’s the only such repetition on the album.
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In this case, however, there was a turning point midway through my third or so play - as it happens, a moment of “authenticity.” On the early “Don’t Need Y’all,” the former Amethyst Kelly swallows the first two words of “Talkin’ ’bout no money, no family/16 in the middle of Miami,” shifting the full force of her fake drawl onto “no money” and transforming a structurally marginal, lyrically telling couplet into a mini-hook. I discovered this not by keeping one ear on the radio, which I don’t have listening time for anyway, or watching videos, which with Azalea I learned to tolerate and occasionally admire only after duty called (love her tentative sneer, hate the irrelevant “Black Widow”), but by sticking the physical CD in a changer with roughly similar candidates and waiting for it to grab me - or not, which is usually how this process turns out. The Summer of Iggy Azalea: The Billboard Cover Story
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