My Liver Will Handle What My Heart Can't

My Liver Will Handle What My Heart Can't

In the minds of many a tortured artist, self-loathing goes down easier with a little liquor—and in the case of the $uicideboy$, a healthy dose of irony. That's the underlying thesis of My Liver Will Handle What My Heart Can't, a mixtape that explores troubling thoughts with fatalistic lyrics and bleak humor. Released in 2015, the tape features plenty of retro samples, raucous soundscapes, and typically hyperactive flows from $crim and Ruby da Cherry, cousins who made a pact to either become rap stars by the age of 30 or commit suicide. By the time My Liver hit the internet, they'd become underground stalwarts known for delivering nihilistic anthems. My Liver embodied their natural, idiosyncratic flair. At a sparse 29 minutes, the tape is brief but intense, with its intentions made clear from the outset. For the opener, "Vincent Van Gogh Ain’t Got Shit on Me," they allude to the famous painter who cut off his own ear. It's a sad-boy contest that doubles as a morbid portrait of drug use, hedonism, and suicidal thoughts; the opiate beat sounds like an ambulance from hell. Wielding eerie bells, they continue their ominous dance for "Reign in Blood." $crim, rapping in a stilted cadence that evokes a demonic chant, embraces the dark side with macabre symbolism: "The satanic killer, the gripper of triggers that haunts all the rivers/The blood is my liquor." While $uicideboy$'s absurdist quips are equal parts funny and disturbing, all their verses are threaded with raw honesty. There's an understated beauty in how they use poetic writing to illustrate simmering tragedies; it's subtle but devastating. On "Kill Yourself (Part III)," Ruby presents himself as a vessel of darkness, combining a forlorn piano sample with a striking image of fracturing mental health: "I be the silhouette of a sunset/Smoke a cigarette while I compress my depression." He speaks of compression, but My Liver plays out more like a series of controlled explosions: flashes of light ripping through the smog of controlled substances and conflicting emotions.

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