Upon opening Brakebill’s Soundcloud page, the visitor will be greeted with a succinct artist biography; “The truth about drugs.” Upon listening to his new self-produced album, Out the Window, it becomes clear that this short biography functions instead as a mission statement for the Seattle rapper’s music. There, within his music, the details of his biography can be found.
For as much as the content of this album centers around drugs, it does not focus on getting high. This is an album that is much more grounded in the realities of coming down, with an eye for the solemn and sobering moments that occur in-between those highs. Brakebill does not mine for the truth in those disarming peaks of drug use. He instead digs into the valleys and recesses, the lows of his life and relationships, that form infinitely around those highs.
Throughout the 25 minute run-time of the album, Brakebill explores the ways in which drugs have affected his relationships with his family, his friends, and himself. He speaks openly about his troubled familial relationships on “Family Records,” as he contrasts the high number of criminal records his father has; “Records in all of my family/My daddy got multiple felonies,” with the low number of call records between them. “I didn’t call on the phone/I didn’t become the man that they want”.
On “Momma Made Me,” featuring a standout verse from fellow Seattle artist and frequent collaborator Donormaal, Brakebill places his hopes on his music to as a means to escape the 9 to 5 rut, instead of using dope as a means to escape like his father before him. This addiction is brought up again in a poignant image on the closing track “Don’t Call the Cops” where his father is depicted nodding out and overdosing on the couch in his home as Brakebill faces his own resistance to calling the police “cause they can’t help.” This is a vivid image that attests to Brakebill’s transparency in his music, while also doubling as a broader statement on the futility of law enforcement to positively assist in rehabilitating individuals afflicted by drug addiction.
Yet, for as much as Brakebill discusses his family, there is never a sense that Brakebill is speaking from a place of superiority or blame. Inextricable from the sins of his father, he appears to see the same faults in himself. He is completely self-aware of his own shortcomings and issues with drugs, creating an honest perspective for the listener to draw from. He welcomes placing the blame on himself after acknowledging his own issues with drug abuse on “Family Records;” “Want me, call me out I’m afraid to become a man/call me, call me out I’m afraid for this high to end.”
The aptly titled, “Circles,” finds Brakebill in the middle of the ritualistic and cyclical nature of addiction as he battles between yearning to get clean, and wanting to cope with vice. A moment of respite is found in the nocturnal synth tones of “Backseat” where the hi-hats trickle like the pitter-patter of raindrops on the windshield of a moving car. It’s a safe place in the track-listing — In the backseat with his friends. It’s a familiar place of comfort, a place where he feels no need to lie and admits his addictions as he raps, “I lost my mind over feeling.” It’s clear that Brakebill’s friendships are invaluable. Removed from his immediate family, his friends are the ones he confides in.
Still, just like himself and his father before him, his friends are battling demons of their own. Through Brakebill’s eyes the listener is presented with images of his friends heating up tar in spoons on “Magnolia.” It’s a track with a decidedly dark and foreboding atmosphere with a refrain that poses questions such as: “Are your friends clean?” and “Do they cry for help? It be hard to tell.” It serves as a cautionary tale that foreshadows the grim realities of the ensuing “3 Musketeers” interlude where a voicemail is overheard delivering the news that a friend has passed due to an overdose.
Let it go
Lost a friend I think I’m used to it
All these drugs think they’re immune to it
“I just want my friend back” is the first lyric of the refrain heard on the following track, “Gus and Alex.” Backed up by a despondent keyboard melody, the track serves as a solemn, sobering moment. The way these three tracks all lead into each other makes it feel as though the listener is experiencing this tragedy in real time through Brakebill’s eyes. It’s a story that only Brakebill is equipped to tell and his unique perspective on life is coupled with a unique perspective on production. Throughout the album, Brakebill employs his own ambient and spacey brand of beat-making that never bows its head or chases trends. Each instrumental is meticulously crafted to match the emotional energy of the song and this is perhaps best exemplified on the penultimate track, “Wake Up.”
The song opens with rising guitar chords that are so thoroughly filtered and washed out in reverb, that they could be mistaken for dreamy synthesizer keys. “Wake up, man it’s hard to wake up,” Brakebill raps as the drums enter. This is a call to action. After everything that’s been experienced up to this point, it’s either wake-up or give-up, embrace the adversity and grow, or become burdened by it and shrink. Brakebill battles with that decision internally. He begins to side with the latter as he raps, “I’m not coming out / I count all my blessings but they’re running out.” The guitars then fade out and multiple vocal layers begin chanting “wake up” as they overlap and echo around like a fever dream. Then, suddenly, the music cuts and the guitar comes back in. Something is different this time though. The familiar guitar tones are no longer filtered out and hazy, but clean, completely clean.
On it’s surface, Out the Window appears to be an album about drugs. That much may be true, but it is also so much more than that. Over the course of ten tracks, Out the Window is able to effectively thrust the listener into Brakebill’s life. At times Out the Window is the sound of Brakebill struggling to uphold the deteriorating pillars of his household. At other points, it’s the sound of Brakebill coping with his addiction and loss. In many moments it is Brakebill taking a long look into a mirror and facing his own weaknesses. The listener may expect to hear the truth about drugs, but what’s presented here is the truth about Brakebill. His flaws, insecurities, and most importantly, his growth are all on display for the listener. At present, his story may be inseparable from his drug use, but he’s working to make sure his future can stand alone. Experience the honest journey of Out the Window below.