Isolation in a Crowd: Earl Sweatshirt's ‘I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside’
The Los Angeles-based rapper’s second studio album is a nihilistic tour de force, treating loss as an immovable stake in the heart and framing success as a source of overwhelming anxiety and depression.
Written by Rupak Kadiri
Photo courtesy of Tim Mosenfelder
Earl Sweatshirt is a force who needs little introduction. From his prodigal teenage years with Odd Future to his recent releases with legendary producer The Alchemist, Sweatshirt has constantly reinvigorated and revolutionized hip-hop with his dark, resonant instrumentals and nuanced, complex verses concerning race and mental health, incorporating expansive, intricate rhyme schemes. His second studio album, I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside, released when he was 21, is one of the most emblematic reflections of his artistry. Considered by many to be one of the most despondent rap albums of all time, Sweatshirt tackles loss, depression, and substance abuse, among many other themes. Some prominent — and quite fascinating — motifs are Sweatshirt’s framing of success and urban environments as spaces conducive to isolation and drug addiction.
In ruminative first track “Huey,” Sweatshirt delivers a concise verse that is equal parts introspective and boastful, over a nostalgic instrumental reminiscent of a carousel at a carnival. This dichotomy of bravado and vulnerable musings comprises the forefront of the album’s lyrical content, illustrating the undeniable gratification and inescapable struggles that come with fame, especially considering that Sweatshirt met fame as a teenager. He expresses his struggles with substance abuse, confidently and powerlessly rapping “I'm like quicksand in my ways / Was always stuck in 'em … My bitch say the spliff take the soul from me.” He references the sluggish speed of ambulances in Los Angeles traffic earlier in the verse, drawing parallels between the cycles of his self-destruction with the crumbling infrastructure of heavily populated urban areas like Los Angeles. Later in the verse, he outlines his substance abuse as a coping mechanism for his grief, solemnly stating “I spent the day drinking and missing my grandmother.” The intro of the album opens the listener to some fragments of Sweatshirt’s fractured soul, which he delves into further as the album progresses.
“Faucet” features Sweatshirt discussing his distant feelings towards his friends and family. The instrumental features authentic drum samples, kicks and snares bouncing off of each other amidst the occasional open hi-hat. Isolated guitar notes play most of the bars, but immersive synths couples with a dynamic lick and glistening bells during points of emphasis. The beat functions as a background of retrospection, with Sweatshirt discussing the struggles of his late teenage years. He exclaims “And I don't know who house to call home lately / (I hope my phone break, let it ring) / Toe to toe with the foes, new and old / Basic h– try to cage him like the po’” Sweatshirt does not feel at home in his house, and sees nothing but enemies in the faces he interacts with day to day. His messages are filled with the false pretenses of those who seek his attention due to his wealth and status, “caging him” in a space of isolation and insecurity. He addresses his relationship with his mother, referencing his time spent in boarding school, stating “Before I did the shit that earned me my term on that island / Can’t put a smile on your face through your purse or your pocket.” Sweatshirt acknowledges the undeniable rift that has emerged in the relationship between him and his mother, noting that his material success can do nothing to mend it. This cut stresses both the merits and gaping flaws that come with fame, ultimately embodying the introspective character of the work.
Photo courtesy of Steven Traylor
Following track and lead single off the album “Grief,” is a harrowing depiction of seclusion, loss, and cyclical harm. The instrumental samples Erykah Badu’s “Fall in Love (Your Funeral)”, stretching it out and distorting it over a mesmeric, brooding bassline that canvasses the entire space of the listener. This sample is haunting, sounding like the final lamentations of a creature being stripped of its soul. The drums are profoundly stirring, with the hi-hats appearing faintly, being programmed in understated, successive triplets. The kicks are blended in and sidechained to the evocative bassline, indistinguishable in the mix. The snare is heavily saturated and slightly stretched out, feeling like a colossal jab to the face against the rest of the mellow, cloudlike beat. Sweatshirt’s verses in the track are epic stories in themselves, incorporating so many triple entendres and serpentine rhyme schemes that they could all be the subject of individual pieces. He begins with the hook, where he numbly states “Good grief, I been reaping what I sowed / N— I ain’t been outside in a minute / I been living what I wrote.” I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside, clearly evocates the depressive state that Sweatshirt finds himself in, day in, day out. “Living what you write” is often used as a metaphor for manifestation, and because much of Sweatshirt’s lyrical content is so full of despair and anguish, his life experience coincides. In this album, he places his unfiltered consciousness on the table for listeners to dissect and understand, hence, “he lives what he writes.” By claiming that he is “reaping what he sowed,” he holds himself as the one responsible for his anguish. In the subsequent verse, he continues to grapple with his substance abuse and anxiety, asserting “Lately, I've been panicking a lot / Feeling like I'm stranded in a mob / Scrambling for Xanax out the canister to pop.” He finishes the last verse with “Thinking 'bout my grandmama / Find a bottle, I'ma wallow and I lie in that / Um, I just want my time and my mind intact / When they both gone, you can't buy 'em back.” Once again, he details his use of alcohol as a means to cope with his grandmother’s passing, while noting that one’s time and one’s mind are irreplaceable. This last line also comments on the general state of grief, stressing that time cannot be bought with someone once they are gone. The outro spontaneously departs from the instrumental upon the conclusion of Sweatshirt’s final verse, playing a somewhat triumphant yet retrospective sample that feels intentionally anachronistic to the heavy subject matter.
Eighth track “Inside” delves into Sweatshirt’s commitment to his art, despite problems with substance abuse. The instrumental couples a smooth, shimmering pad with a bustling, booming bassline. The open hi-hats stand out amongst the percussion, ringing out at the end of Sweatshirt’s bars. He coolly raps “Gotta say that, as of late, I been busy with business mostly / Got a tape? Catch a wave / Now you in the industry ocean.” The rapper not only underscores his dedication to his work, but positions this dedication as an inevitable result of his participation in the industry. He warns prospective artists, stating that their emergence onto the scene will drown them in the same way. He addresses the connection between his status and his drug addiction with “Face-drinking smoker, it help me duck when emotion jab / Fame is the culprit, who give me drugs without owing cash.” To Sweatshirt, fame is a double-edged sword, enabling his destructive tendencies and compelling him to wholly immerse himself in the music business. This exacerbates his depression, with the last line of the track being “And lately I don't like shit, I been inside on the daily, daily.”
I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside encompasses numerous facets of mental health struggles in the 21st Century, to the point where the project resembles an acquaintance that shares some of the same experiences as the audience. Sweatshirt shows deep vulnerabilities in every song, sharing some of his deepest sentiments and concerns to the plethora of listeners that will indubitably dissect and scrutinize every single word, thereby dissecting and scrutinizing his mind and his heart. However, this vulnerability creates an immensely evocative sense of intimacy with the listener, beckoning them to take part in this anguish. This listener can, perhaps, then find some solace in the fact that such a canonized figure like Earl Sweatshirt expresses some of the same attitudes towards life that they do.