Everglades Boss enters into the world of "Poverty" with that sort of presence that makes you raise your head before you know why. He has a rawness, the Miami-and-Carolinas touch, but mixed there is something unexpectedly optimistic, as though one were telling the truth because it were what they lived. There is this Viking-like heaviness of his voice, that it is roughly sure, and when it strikes the production of Top Dre, it is all familiar and new at the same time.
Even the beat is reduced to its bare necessities. Nothing but a heavy, constant bass, that seems to be pounding its way through your ribs, and drums that crack in sharp little explosions. It is the type of production that does not attempt to impress you with tricks; it simply allows one to immerse themselves into it. Produced at It's the Frat Studios in Marietta and refined by Mr. Havell Teylar, the song has that late-night sound--almost literally pouring out of the club speakers, the lights flashing on, the people bobbing without even being aware that they are. And nothing ever gets in the way, so the voice of Everglades Boss is right in the middle, telling you rather as he means that you were getting in on something.
But what really catches your eye is the story telling- those brief glimpses of growing up in Miami, the sense of being constantly in short of money, the sense of the street, the sense of burden that families put on their shoulders as they strive to keep on. He sketches it all in these fast, bright strokes that are not created, but experienced. And you can hear the resemblances of the artists who influenced him--the flame of James Brown, the despair of Ray Charles, the ripped-open sincerity of Janis Joplin. It all slides into the manner in which he presents every line.
The hook comes then, nearly deceptively easy, a request to pick one another up, to develop, to find a way to overcome poverty. It is soft and monotonous, it is almost mantra, said on rocky sidewalks. And that juxtaposition, that sandy texture of the verses, the mushy optimism of the chorus, is even more shocking than you think. It makes the song even more than a street story; it is a sort of silent, insistent desire.
The song is a song that belongs to that last-minute, the world has gone quiet, you are driving alone with the windows open, or leaning into a crowd that is strolling along. It is to anyone who is a fan of hip-hop that still tells the truth, the disheveled truth, the truth that has a bit of light even in the deepest depths.
.jpg)
