So the Flies Dont Come- Milo

Rap music can be polarizing. With it often being stereotyped as having abrasive beats, controversial lyrics, and a lack of pleasing melody, many are quick to turn their nose up. Even so-called music fans frequently deem it undeserving of validity as a style of music, and cling to the comforting sound of traditional singing. On the contrary, rap to some is a sole musical identity. Be it a suburban teen who feels empowered by the rebellious rhythms, or a hardened inner city dweller who is inspired by messages of social justice coming from a relatable artist, this genre has the capacity to be loved endlessly by those who adopt it. Regardless of one’s feelings toward rap, it cannot be denied that it tends to be its own island in musical society, with a select (and rapidly growing) group of residents. However, some artists are able to build a bridge over the abyss, and captivate all audiences by exposing the true beauty and musicality of this style in all its facets. Milo, a 23-year-old rapper from Wisconsin, is one of these artists.

Milo may not be a household name, but he is a pioneer in the intriguing and emerging sub-genre known as “art rap”. Listenable, witty, intelligent, stylish, thought-provoking; all accurate descriptors of why this music is growing into the heads and hearts of music fans from all walks of life. A college degree in philosophy combined with a sharp and humorous wit make Milo’s musings strikingly clever and overall applaudable, while his humble lifestyle and somber self reflection provide a powerful emotional relatability. The groundwork for his unique favor of rap is laid by quirky and minimalist beats, allowing room for the full power of his lyrics to resonate. His songs burst with personality; even a quick listen to Milo will leave you feeling as though he is both a long time friend, and a mystery that needs to be uncovered. This is certainly rap presented in a package you have never heard before, a package that is universally captivating.

Released September 25th, So the Flies Don’t Come is Milo’s sophomore album (following a number of EPs), and arguably his best creation to date. His past works, including the double EP Things that Happen at Day/ Things that Happen at Night, and his first official album A Toothpaste Suburb, depict the young artist as wayward and desiring to be great, his harsh criticisms of himself and the world coming out in cryptic and clever lyrics. However this time around, it is clear that Milo has reached the top of his craft, and he has something to say to the world, not about it. No longer are his philosophical meditations turned inward, focusing on his own struggles, but outward, towards the issues that he sees all around him. Not only has his lyrical content developed, Milo’s delivery and fluidity matches that of a season rapper, and the catchy rhythms through which he delivers his messages linger in the brain. All in all, on this record a certain charming humility is traded for a stark confidence, and it demands to be heard.

This fiery new tone is exemplified perfectly in the opening track, Rabblerouse. Only a minute long, Milo jumps immediately out of the starting gate and establishes his identity: a rapper who isn’t afraid of the dark, ready to use his words as a service to the world. Remarkably soulful beats are dubbed over by vibrant and witty wordplay in the album’s next two songs, Souvenir and Zen Scientist, which serve as a call to action to grow into one’s greatest form and “let the soul fly.” Both of these also feature guest artists, demonstrating Milo’s increased sociability in the rap industry. The ominous Re: Animist serves as a transition to change the tone of the album to a shade far darker, and An Encyclopedia hits with the full impact of something that has been brooding for a long time. Here Milo unleashes a racial statement that spits fire towards all in its path, recounting his struggles in embracing his black identity, and in encouraging others to embrace theirs, in a world where institutionalized racism is all too real. Taking on a topic as heated as this with such finesse and power shows a large step up in maturity for the rising artist. Milo flaunts his lofty dexterity on the next two selections, Going No Place, and True Nen, which are fairly light-hearted in content compared to the rest of the album, focusing on his entry into and identity in rap music. A climax is reached in the album’s eighth track, Napping Under the Echo Tree. The verbal onslaught is traded for the slow and steady delivery of Milo’s vast wisdom, regarding the path of becoming something notable, and the process of gathering information to form meaningful memories. All this is underscored by an uplifting beat, which swells with the intensity of Milo’s messages. The juxtaposition of deeply emotional content, next to oddly specific and humorous details, is a trademark of his and is prevalent in this song. Contrast is shown next in the more upbeat @yomilo, (a reference to his Twitter handle), in which questions brought up by fans are simulated, and responded to with profound personal views regarding his art, philosophy, and racial issues prevalent today. Song About A Raygun (An Ode to Driver) closes out the brief ten-track album. It is much more than a mere tribute to his fellow rapper Busdriver; it is ultimately a proclamation of the importance of rap in our society, its power to inspire unify the masses through messages that demand to be heard, and it’s universal impact despite varying musical preferences. As the snaking groove propels towards the end of the masterpiece, Milo delivers his final statement: “Following a rule is just too hard for me, it’s hardly me.”