With moMINTs, Tobe Nwigwe and ‘Fat’ carry the sound of the Dirty South into more spiritually fertile lands.
With moMINTs, Tobe Nwigwe and ‘Fat’ carry the sound of the Dirty South into more spiritually fertile lands.
T obe Nwigwe’s moMINTs is proof positive of just how luminous rap can be. As a fan of rap and hip-hop, I’ve long wanted to write a piece defending the provocative, pneumatic intelligence of the form. Too often critics on the right, who are leery of rap’s attendant culture and content, dismiss the whole genre altogether. However, finding a piece to refute accusations that rap is little more than metered apologism for criminality and sexual infidelity proved momentarily challenging.
Take, for example, the late Pop Smoke’s sophomore album Meet the Woo 2. The album, released just ten days before his death as the victim of a burglary-turned-murder, is arguably one of the most innovative and splendid examples of rap — American braggadocio mixed with aggressive bass-heavy U.K. drill. At the time, Pop was an antidote to the hippity-hoppity mumblism the genre had embraced, and his unconventional sound was desperately needed. However, his lyrics aren’t exactly edifying.
Observe the tragically ironic first track “Invincible,” where Pop offers:
I pop a Perc’, go retarded,
Then shoot up the party, then change the artillery (Grrt)
Energy (Woo)
I’m givin’ nothin’ but energy (Woo)
I give her Perky and Hennessy
I give two shots to the enemy, hope he remember me (Grrt)
A far cry from the lyricism of the Notorious B.I.G., but Pop’s Doberman-esque growl speaks to young men who are looking to advance themselves: If pubescent testosterone were a rapper, this is what it’d sound like. Pop’s work was limited by a short, hard life, and his sound reflects as much. He knew girls, drugs, and materialism and made them central — having not lived long enough to tire of affected vainglory.
Enter Nwigwe. He performs in conjunction with his talented wife, who goes by “Fat.” The Nwigwes’ music quality and production schedule are admirably consistent, with weekly releases since 2017. They are Houston-based, and their music has much of the vigor of Pop Smoke, except the content reflects a pair that has seen the world’s manifold failings, considered the Divine, and proudly raised children together in matrimony.
The album starts with “Round Here” Parts One and Two. The music videos, directed by Tobe and Nate the Director, are lush. Garbed in seafoam, the Nwigwes and the surrounding dancers move through the manicured lawns of a plantation, with ballet and ball gowns acting as framing devices for Tobe and Fat.
Tobe casts himself as a patriarch throughout the album, looking to provide young black people a vision for maintaining passive strength and building intergenerational wealth. He does this with all the vim of a Pop Smoke while simultaneously revealing the lie of rampant materialism in establishing his family’s true fortune.
Tobe’s second verse of Part One offers insight into his worldview:
Me and mine be lowkey, I don’t do this for trophies
But some say I’m a shepherd ’cause I’m with the sheep like Bo Peep
Hopefully I sow seeds that lead them to green pastures
Told my dawg “You ain’t no slave, them whips and chains just got you mastered.”
As a project, the album is a rarity in that each track is worth repeated listens, a cohesive whole that tells the story of a young man and his family’s ascent from namelessness to recognition from such superstars as Beyoncé. It’s the American dream put to meter, suffused with bravado and culturally conservative principles. Fat has a verse in “Lord Forgive Me” that — between the flow and the entendres — may be the best of the album:
Big steppin’ on the head of the serpent
But I keep a blade ‘case I got to kill ’em
. . .
Can’t fight good, but I bust guns
It’s on sight wit’ me, never duck none
I’m givin’ my ‘hood babies trust funds
We ain’t never goin’ broke, ayy, look
I don’t play about my two lil’ daughters or my son
Or my lil’ baby that’s about to come
I leave a demon holier than nuns and then pray
While delivered unconventionally, what Fat is expressing is a desire to defend her family from the devil and others who would do them harm. Whether with a blade or firearm or the life-altering advantages of a trust fund, Fat is prepared to protect those she loves. Note that this is not the same predatory instigation of Pop Smoke and his peers but rather a defense of personal property. The Christian imagery of the serpent’s head being crushed under the foot of the mother figure offers such depth, concluding with the delightful wordplay “leaving a demon holier (shot up) than nuns (the holy sisterhood).” It’s that sort of line that makes rap worth defending and reveals its potential for explication and layered discovery.
Toby Nwigwe’s moMINTs is a triumph of the genre, even as it’s a personal victory for him and his family. By shouldering aside the crass and fleeting to focus on the eternal and the lovely, Tobe and Fat have carried the sound of the Dirty South into more intellectually and spiritually fertile lands. May they continue to harvest there, because the world sure could use more of it.