Baby Keem - Ca$ino
On Ca$ino, rapper Baby Keem is equal parts self-deprecating, autobiographical, and braggadocious. His sophomore album follows up his critically acclaimed 2021 effort, The Melodic Blue. While singles like “ORANGE SODA” and “family ties” had elevated him in years prior, his official debut album solidified Keem as a force to be reckoned with in hip-hop. Ca$ino picks up where Blue left off - while the results are mixed at times, the moments that stand out really do break through the scenery and leave a lasting impact, particularly when Keem is waxing autobiographical.
The album is bookended by “No Security” and “No Blame”, two tracks that find Keem in a more vulnerable state, rapping about the rise of his fame, changing relationships, and the chaotic nature of his family as he was growing up. “No Security” establishes this right off the bat about the double-edged sword of fame, the idea that while everything might seem hunky-dory on stage, what lies behind the curtain is far from it (“When I was dyin’ for my bitch, my mom was sleepin’ in a tent/Goin’ back and forth to jail, should I bail? Where can I vent?/Fuckin’ up my credit card when I tried to pay her rent/Usually go on stage and fake a smile but I can’t).
Songs like the title track, “House Money”, and “Circus Circus Free$tyle” find Keem’s flow at its best; even when it seems like he’s dragging behind the beat, he catches up at breakneck speed. His lyricism reaches its heights on the ironically named “I am not a Lyricist”, which finds Keem rapping, though not sentimentally, about past relationships and the impact that the city of Las Vegas had on the downfall of family members (“I wish we never came to Vegas from Long Beach/On the strip with them demons, and they all plotted on me/Everything ‘bout that dirty desert took you away/County jails in the morning/Promise you that I wait).
At certain times, Ca$ino tries to lean into more pop sensibilities, and it seems to slow the momentum. I am certainly not averse to multi-genre albums, but the songs seem mismatched here. “Good Flirts” features guest spots from Momo Boyd and cousin Kendrick Lamar, and it’s kitschy enough to inspire a few smiles here and there, and “Dramatic Girl” does show that Keem has a fine singing voice, yet they feel like incompatible fits with the other material on the album.
I do give Keem credit for one thing, though, even on the songs that don’t seem to fit; he explores emotion beyond the usual brand of hip-hop we get nowadays that is solely meant to flex on other rappers in the game - who has the most girls, who has the most cash, the biggest house, the most expensive car. Baby Keem does puff out his chest on Ca$ino, but he tempers it with moments that dive deeper into family, overcoming generational trauma, and the feeling of falling in love. It seems to set him apart from others in the game.
