No Frills Reviews

The budding wrestling promoter works through his signature spots in workmanlike fashion, but with typical flair

On his latest EP, Westside Gunn posits that rather than a rapper, he is in fact an artiste, a specialist, a culture curator. But on the back of this wrestling-related tie-in, I’d suggest that the well-documented mega-fan, is now something akin to a veteran wrestling star.

Surprise released to coincide with a Wrestlemania-weekend event that Gunn was co-promoting under his own Fourth Rope banner, HEELS HAVE EYES’ cover is adorned by 80’s WWF legend, Ted Dibiase. With his propensity for ostentatious displays of wealth, The Million Dollar Man serves as a fitting wrestling avatar for the Buffalo rapper. There’s plenty of those displays to add to the collection here, of course – Balmain waistlines, Porterhouse steaks, out-of-hours shopping at Saks – just to take a selection from one verse. These sort of trademark bars are where the Westside Gunn as veteran wrestler parallel becomes apparent. It’s not so much that he is similar to a wrestling character, it’s that like a well-established wrestling character, he comes with his own set of signature moves and tropes.

After around a decade as one of the undisputed champions of the underground, you pretty much know what you’re getting. This is Ric Flair as the touring NWA champ of the 80’s. He’s gonna throw some chops, get slammed off the top, and hit the flop. You’re probably not gonna get a game changer, but you still wanna see how well he executes it all, what happens in between, and you hold out hope that you may just witness a moment of greatness. The fun lies in the familiarity, and the potential subversion, of those tropes.

For Gunn, replace the chops with the gunshot ad-libs that you can’t resist ‘boo boo boo’-ing along to. Instead of getting slammed off the top rope, Gunn is dishing out the aforementioned boasts of absurd materialism. And let’s substitute the Flair flop for Gunn’s daughter, Westside Pootie, interjecting to call you a broke-ass bum (which we don’t quite get on this EP). It’s mostly a well-worn routine but, despite his humble brag that “I don’t even like to rap”, he’s in good form.

Gunn’s often impeccable ear for beats means there’s a solid foundation for him to play out his routine. From the classic cinematic coke-rap backdrops of EINSTEIN KITCHEN and DAVEY BOY SMITH, the sweet, sweet soul cut from Harry Fraud on GORO, to the hard boom-bap loop of EGYPT. The most notable tweak to the formula is the lack of features, as Gunn goes it alone, claiming to have made the tape in just one night before releasing it. And just like your favourite wrestler, there’s even a hint of some questionable ethics, as the self-styled artiste serves up what is surely generative-AI laziness for the intro’s Motown pastiche (which, annoyingly, is pretty irresistible).

Look, this is a 10-minute EP that he knocked out in one night, there’s only so much juice I can squeeze from it for this whole wrestler metaphor. My point is that this is Westside Gunn on auto-pilot. Ultimately, it’s a fairly unremarkable addition to his extensive catalogue, but at this stage in his career this kind of abridged, muscle-memory run through of his greatest hits is better served by the short runtime. It’s a brief reminder of why he’s still so good at what he does, and any good heel knows to always leave the audience wanting more.

Best tunes: DAVEY BOY SMITH, EGYPT

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