FEATURE:
Revisiting…
Megan Thee Stallion - Traumazine
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I have featured Megan Thee Stallion…
PHOTO CREDIT: Jamie Nelson
on my blog a few times. I think I included her amazing debut, Good News, in Second Spin. I know that I have celebrated it and the Texan rapper’s incredible talent. One of the most influential and important women in Rap and Hip-Hop, I want to head back earlier this year for Revisiting… It may seem strange to revisit an album that was released in August! The reason why I want to be very current when it comes to this week is because I think Megan Thee Stallion’s second studio album, Traumazine, was overlooked by some. Maybe not quite as remarkable as her debut, Traumazine is still a wonderful album with some of Megan Thee Stallion’s best moments. With eighteen tracks – half of which feature collaborations –, perhaps some felt that there was a bit too much material on the album and too many other artists in the mix. I do think that the collaboration tracks are balanced nicely so that there are not too many together. Whilst they are great, the best moments are when Megan Thee Stallion is solo and in the spotlight. Even though Traumazine did not chart high in the U.K., it reached four in the U.S. and has sold very well. Different in tone and sound to Good News, there are insecurities and darker themes explored more heavily throughout Traumazine.
Before coming to some reviews, I want to bring in an interview where Megan Thee Stallion discussed her latest album. The Cut’s Traumazine interview makes for fascinating reading. As they highlight, it is Megan Thee Stallion’s most vulnerable album to date. I have selected parts of the interview that are particular interesting:
“The Megan on her latest album, Traumazine, which will be released the following week, isn’t exactly brand new — it’s more her. The Megan in front of me today, though, laughing wearily, says she is on hour 44 of her workday: “I feel like we’ve been up for a week straight.” Aside from her being a bit quiet, it would be hard to tell if she were tired. Her mood sets the tone of the room, and when she smiles, which she does often, so do all the people watching her. Everyone is watching her.
On top of doing radio spots, late-night interviews, and photo shoots like this one, Megan is still tinkering in the lab with her team to get the album’s visuals just right. “I wanted everything to be black-and-white because that’s how plain I’m making it,” she tells me.
It’s true that the album’s lyrics leave little to no room for guesswork. It’s hard to imagine Megan being any clearer about what she’s trying to say and to whom she’s speaking. Consider “NDA,” the first track: “Sick of bein’ humble / ’Cause you bitches don’t respect that.” It’s a warning; two tracks later, “Not Nice” is a threat: “I’m on my fuck-you shit, bitch / I’m done bein’ nice / And when it come to cuttin’ people off / I don’t think twice.” In other words, if loyalty isn’t a skill you possess, you’re better off staying away from Megan.
PHOTO CREDIT: Campbell Addy
“When you are nice for so long,” she tells me, “and you don’t really ever give too much back talk and nobody’s ever seen you step out of character, they assume what your character is.” Her hair, a curtain of ink, touches the backs of her thighs, and her hands move rapidly as she explains, her long, painted nails gleaming under the studio lights. “They assume you’re not going to stand up. That’s when people start to try you.” Black girls are taught how to seem unthreatening and accommodating to others in order to stay safe in a world that doesn’t tolerate us being much of anything else. Fortunately for you, me, and our headphones, the rapper born Megan Pete isn’t particularly interested in being accommodating anymore.
In the past several years, Megan has climbed the charts with hits like “Savage” and “Hot Girl Summer”; won three Grammys; collaborated with Dua Lipa, Cardi B, and Doja Cat; and somehow also found time to graduate with a bachelor’s degree in health administration from Texas Southern University. But the heights have been paired with unthinkable hardships, especially for an artist whose career is just beginning. In 2019, Megan’s mother died of a brain tumor, and the grandmother who helped raise her died soon after. Finding herself parentless in her mid-20s (her father passed away when she was 15), she has navigated fame and success largely on her own.
PHOTO CREDIT: Campbell Addy
Then, in the summer of 2020, she was injured in a shooting that led to surgery, physical therapy, and the sort of losses that come with betrayal. The assault trial for rapper Tory Lanez, who is accused of shooting at Megan’s feet as she walked away from an argument, is set for September. It’s not her only legal battle: She has spent years suing and being countersued by 1501 Certified Entertainment — the independent record label she signed with in 2018 and whose contractual obligation she says she has fulfilled — and recently accused it of leaking from Traumazine before its release. (Lanez has pleaded not guilty, and 1501 has denied any wrongdoing.)
At 27 years old, Megan is too young to be so alone in the world, yet here she is sharing the story of her growing up and leaning not away from but into her grief. She’s relearning how, and whom, to trust, starting with herself. As she raps on “Flip Flop,” “Ever since my mama died, 2019 / I don’t really know who I can trust / I was looking for anything, anybody / Looking for something to feel like something / I was hanging with bitches I thought really loved me / Whole time they was jealous and judging.” She is determined to protect, and perhaps parent, herself, the way her mother taught her. Holly “Holly-Wood” Thomas was also a rapper and managed Megan’s early years in the music business. “Me and my mom had this good-cop, bad-cop thing going on,” she tells me of how they’d approach industry meetings. “So she would come in the room like, ‘This what we ain’t doing. Fuck that.’ And I’d be like, ‘Okay, so, guys, she means …’ ” She pantomimes a sweeter, calmer approach, showing me how she would translate her mother’s assertiveness into something more palatable for the tender egos in the room. “But now I don’t have the luxury of having somebody who could be my bad cop. Now I have to be both.”
“I’m taking control of the reins,” she says. It makes sense that she wants to, even if it is all but impossible. Megan is an artist, but she’s something else, too. She’s a household name with all the baggage that comes along with it; the narrative of her life no longer belongs to her alone. And as much as people like to watch, they like to talk even more. It would be foolish to try to control industry gossip, and I don’t believe Traumazine is an attempt to do the impossible. It is her most vulnerable writing to date, and it’s clear from the lyrics that she is not afraid of listeners knowing what’s happened; she just wants to tell it herself. “I can’t just let everybody tell me what they think about me,” she says. “I have to tell my own story the way I feel like it should be told. I can’t leave my fate in anybody else’s hands.
Megan has defined the album’s title as “the chemical released in the brain when it is forced to deal with painful emotions caused by traumatic events and experiences.” She went through a few others first, swapping one mood for another, she says. “I might have been pissed off one month and so the name of the album was something angry, and I might have been super-sad another month so the name of the album was something sad,” she explains. But when she considered “this person I am right now,” she realized she needed a new word for everything she was feeling everywhere all at once.
But the word isn’t hers alone, she says. “Everybody has gone through their own trauma in their own way, and to me, Traumazine is me facing the things that I’ve been running from about myself.” She thinks the album can help others do it too: “It’s comforting to know that other people are going through the same thing that you might be feeling. When something happens to people, they feel like, Oh my gosh, this is only me. This is not normal, or I’m probably the only person in the world that feels like this. But to hear somebody else talking about something that you’re probably feeling, it’s more comforting and more familiar. That’s why people resonate with hearing other people’s stories.”
And the 18 tracks on Traumazine are full of those stories. Listening to it doesn’t sound like walking with her through something — it feels like driving around with her through her hood, going back and forth between laughing and letting each other into our innermost thoughts. It’s like meeting up with a friend whose day started all wrong and finding ways to remind them who they are, who they’ve been, and that you’re both going to make it to the other side”.
I want to round off with some positive reviews, as I don’t think that Traumazine gained all the love and attention it deserved. One of the best albums of this year, I hope that people revisit a relatively new release from a rising icon who is such a hugely important voice in music. This is what CLASH observed in their Traumazine review:
“No more Ms. Nice Bitch – it’s time for Ms. Nasty. After cover art and track leaks, and in the midst of her ongoing battle with 1501 Certified Entertainment, hip hop superstar Megan Thee Stallion is no longer playing it by the rules; with a surprise drop of sophomore album ‘Traumazine’ hitting last night, the record serves as a middle-finger to those trying to control her art, her voice and, her body. This is her dominion. In a blaze of cutting take downs and melt-in-your-mouth hooks, Megan has constructed a multi-layered exercise in empowerment – as well as unveiling an entirely new layer of vulnerability. Sharp-tongued and bold as ever, this record asserts Megan as “That Bitch”.
‘Traumazine’ is a warning. Opening track ‘NDA’ immediately asserts that Megan is “sick of being humble cuz you bitches don’t respect me”, while Key Glock-feature ‘Ungrateful’ is equally as cutting, venomously cutting loose all the “fake-ass bitches”. This slick, no-nonsense attitude permeates throughout, bolstered by a quest for self-preservation. ‘Not Nice’ does it best, embracing a smooth, cruise-control flow as the rapper cries out “fuck it bitch, I’m not nice…I know that I’m that bitch.”
The personal and sonic growth from 2020 debut ‘Good News’ is evident. Every track is pointedly self-assured; Megan knows her worth and refuses to let anyone get in her way. Lucky Daye feature ‘Star’ and the ‘Her’ both emphasise Megan’s newly embraced superstar status; the latter’s muted club minimalism in particular absolutely drowns in blissful self-love as she raps: “I’m Her, Her, Her…take a pic, it’s me.”
Sexual empowerment is also part-and-parcel when it comes to Hot Girl Meg, so it makes sense that ‘Traumazine’ dials up the raunch. Standout anthem ‘Sweetest Pie’ oozes aphrodisiac magic, the glittering Dua Lipa feature a dazzling, disco-pop delight. ‘Consistency’ also takes on Jhené Aiko’s beautifully sexy R&B flow, resulting in a rich, deeply seductive track. ‘Red Wine’, ‘Ms. Nasty’ and ‘Pressurelicious’ also rile with Dionysian pleasure, Megan’s femininity smouldering throughout. ‘Gift & A Curse’ also snarls at recent shift in abortion laws in light of Roe V. Wade, Megan embracing sexual freedom and bodily autonomy with the siren cry: “my motherfuckin’ body, my choice”.
Beneath the grandeur, however, there is a seething layer of honesty as ‘Traumazine’ unfolds. ‘Flip Flop’ explores the aftermath of Megan’s life after the passing of her mother; heartfelt and vulnerable, the bruised softness is a welcome respite. ‘Anxiety’ also takes a detour, a striking confessional exploring Megan’s wavering metal health. Name-dropping the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Britney Spears and Whitney Houston only adds to the potency of her message; beneath the lavish lifestyle and media-trained visage, there’s a tragic, seedier reality to infamy.
Yet not all of the vulnerability is delicate. ‘Plan B’ is a ferocious diss track. Undoubtedly aimed at ex Tory Lanez, the track luxuriates of the glory of plan b – the weightless relief of not being forever tied to someone capable of such damage. The track is a cathartic snarl, heightening the punch of earlier track ‘Gift & A Curse’; creative and bodily freedom continue to play integral roles in her artistry.
By the time the record comes to a close, one thing is clear: ‘Traumazine’ is a deeper excavation of who Megan Jovon Ruth Pete is. While the glossy persona of “That Bitch” Megan Thee Stallion is able to roam free, introspective uncertainties linger beneath the surface. ‘Traumazine’ abounds in empowering affirmations but, beneath it all, this is a release that starts to unpack Megan the human.
8/10”.
Rolling Stone were among those that poured praise on Megan Thee Stallion’s Traumazine. I am surprised this album did not get a load of five-star reviews and bigger love. Such is its brilliance, it should be reassessed. Maybe one or two of the collaborations do not hit that hard or linger in the memory as long as they should. However, at eighteen tracks, there is more than enough consistency.
“MEGAN THEE Stallion verse is not unlike a bag of salt and vinegar chips—there’s something classic and quaint and straight-up hood about the sharp and improbable flavors packed inside every one of them. There were always going to be some quirky juxtapositions with Meg. The twenty-something spitter is an old soul who swears by Pimp C and Biggie and Juicy J. While other rappers her age couldn’t point out Pete Rock in a police lineup, nearly every time Meg spits a freestyle in one of her many viral clips, it’s over a classic instrumental from some raw Nineties hit.
Mentored by no less an eminence than Q-Tip, one of our first introductions to Megan Thee Stallion came courtesy of a clip of her riding around with the Abstract Poetic and turning up to a Max B song. In her world, cool classicism and waviness and the stripper pole all somehow make sense. She’s so gifted with it that she can effortlessly slip an analogy about baptism (and cunnilingus!) into a song (”Plan B”) about birth control.
For a while now, Megan Thee Stallion has hinted that she has many dimensions that she’d like to unveil for us. (In her interviews she’s said that her iconic “Hot Girl” alias touches on only one aspect of her persona.) The rangy wordsmith—with a passion for the Gorillaz, anime, and around-the-way seafood—insists that her earlier projects, for all their kooky amiability, don’t tell her full story. Megan’s latest studio album, Traumazine, is a thrill ride of a listen, a motley mix of slick bops and searing confessionals that wonderfully encapsulate all of her various vibes.
On opener “NDA,” Megan comes clean about the drawbacks that came with her quick rise to fame. And there’s a caustic pressure-cooker intensity to her tone, as she confesses, over the dramatic strings and steely percussion, “Going through some things, so I gotta stay busy/Bought a Rari, I can’t let the shit I’m thinking catch up with me.” Megan has rarely been upfront about her struggles in her songs (except for the emo chorus to her 2019 cut “Crying in the Car”). So it’s refreshing to hear her rap about feeling vulnerable and having to grind it out through her day-to-day trials. But those witty bars still pop up out of nowhere. When, at the end of the song, she scoffs, “Matter fact, wait, stop, bitch, I really rap/I be quick to check you pussy bitches like a pap,” Meg could be one of the characters in the series Rap Sh!t playfully freestyling to herself in the mirror instead of eating her feelings.
Meanwhile, “Anxiety” chronicles Megan’s hold-it-together-in-the-elevator thought bubbles—affably splitting the difference between self-deprecation and legit Talkspace freakouts. There’s a lucid humanistic feel to the song—enhanced by loopy pianos and a wailing vocal sample—that makes it somehow feel both insular and grand, like the tragic rich people’s plights in a Sophia Coppola flick. But along with Megan’s gracious confessions that “bad bitches have bad days, too,” there’s some real talk about loss (”It’s crazy how I say the same prayer to the Lord and always get surprised by who he take”) that hits you right in the heart.
Some of the ratchet fun we’ve come to expect from Meg is embodied in songs like the humid soon-to-be strip-club anthem “Budget,” and the punchline-packed “Scary.” The former, which features Georgia queenpen Latto, conveys big make-it-rain energy, with a quotable bar about how “I like my hair to my ass and my niggas down on they knees.” The Latter—all ghoulish synths and loud 808s—comes on like some aural equivalent to an MJ-eating-candy-corn GIF. It’s a whole Chiller subscription of hair-raising bars, wherein Meg refers to herself as a “thick-thigh nightmare,” then threatens to pop up on the opposition like she’s Candyman. “Scary” is destined to inspire some creative riffs on that immortal Halloween staple, the sexy nurse’s outfit this coming Hot Nerd Fall.
Though the sappy hook on “Red Wine” seems a bit contrived, the song boasts some introspective asides (”All of these shots turning me into a masochist/Happiest when everybody attacking me”), and, in typical Meg fashion, an out-of-left-field gag line (”Treat this pussy like an opp—shoot it up—keep busting” belongs on the Mount Rushmore of sexual invites). The candy-paint-car-show-appropriate “Southside Freestyle” bristles with hometown pride and gives this cleverly sequenced, well-balanced LP the rugged hood-famous feel of a must-have mixtape. Traumazine is truly a whole mood”.
One of the finest albums of this year, I wanted to head back only a couple of months to shine a spotlight on Traumazine. I am winding up this feature soon enough, but I will go back further for the next edition. So many terrific albums have come out this year that have not been given quite the acclaim they warranted. The stunning Traumazine is a great follow up to Good News. There is no doubt that Megan Thee Stallion is…
A major star of the future.