We won't lie, our opinion of Azealia Banks has changed of
late, and not just because of her endorsement by Samantha Cameron. After
exploding on to the scene with 212 and the excellent 1991 EP, Banks has since
descended into a caricature of profanity, poking beef with anyone and everyone
(Angel Haze, Diplo, Perez Hilton, Baauer, the Stone Roses, and most recently
Rita Ora)... Not to mention this strange fascination with being a 'luxury witch' /
deep sea mermaid and clogging timelines with tweets about hair.
So out comes Yung Rapunxel, which in aural form certainly
sums up Banks' year. Loud, angry, and at times unnecessary, it's mostly a case
of loud production over anything else. Tagged 'witch-pop', it does have moments
of dance floor flair and that frustrated yell will stay with you... But then a
wholesale lift from 212 effectively confirms that Banks has become a parody of
herself.
It's all a bit try-hard, that too from someone we know is
capable of delivering much more with much less (see: breakthrough nonchalant
delivery of 'cunt', circa 2011). Like her alter ego, Banks has certainly tied herself in knots... but even Rapunzel had the sense to let her hair down eventually.