I Never Felt Nun, the name of EST Gee’s most recent album, is ironically ironic; it’s part of a loose trilogy with 2020’s I Don’t Feel Nun and I Still Don’t Feel Nun, in case you missed it. Kentucky rapper’s most recent album often sounds like a headlong dive into his worst thoughts and darkest experiences. Gee pours his heart out, peeling back the skin to expose a harsher reality in his home city of Louisville, unlike fellow Louisvilleresident Jack Harlow, whose co-sign brought Gee to the attention of a broader national audience.
As a new addition to Yo Gotti’s expanded CMG label, EST Gee has gained access to a wider network in addition to high-profile features for Future and Megan Thee Stallion. Gee’s unrelenting hustle and unfiltered emotionality make him a natural fit alongside profound songwriters like Mozzy and ferocious spitters like 42 Dugg, with whom he released this year’s collaborative album Last Ones Left.
Gee’s music is set at a stylistic Mason-Dixon Line between the Bible and the Rust Belt, deep fried and industrialized in equal measure, much like his native state. He combines Chicago Drill’s agonizing lyrics, the furious pace of modern Michigan rap, and the bluesy refrains of Southern crooners like Kevin Gates and RodWave. With organ trills reminiscent of Zaytoven on “Voices in my head” and victorious trumpets on the album’s closing track, “The Realest,” a homage to classic mixtape era trap that is capped off with a Jeezy cameo, the production has a subtle Southern accent. The participation of Machine Gun Kelly on “Death Around the Corner” is the most unexpected regional nod; it serves as a surprise reminder that, before becoming a pop star pursuing the clout dragon, MGK was an angry, Ohio-born Yelawolfimpersonator who feuded with Eminem. When Kelly returns to his origins, he performs with a more sincere enthusiasm than his alt-rock costume and is therefore at his most bearable.
Gee’s delivery conveys a feeling of deliberate desperation as if he is just rapping to maintain his air supply rather than to share a lesson or impart knowledge. His gravelly cadence is jerkier than jerky at the introduction of “Both Arms,” and he constantly lags off and cracks as though his voice is about to falter.
The interjections after EST Gee’s bars are an odd antithesis to his most accurate raps, which imitate a paranoid stream of ideas, and are a nonstop flood of mumbles and half-formed words. While some may use drugs to dull the pain, Gee frequently refers to violence and death as addictions because he finds it impossible to fathom life without the need for blood.
Gee’s singing displays a voice frantically trying to exorcize and articulate his feelings at moments when bars alone are unable to capture the agony. Gee’s full-throated chorus on “Come Home”sounds more like it was ghostwritten by bro-country singer SamHunt than the song’s emo-tinged guitar riff. Gee is at his most melodious in the primary refrain, “When you return home/Just know I miss you/Like you missing me,” which suggests a propensity for emotionally charged anthems beyond raw bars. The grief is evident and the feelings are passionate.
The topics of the album have a vague religious bent, as seen by songs with names like “Is Heaven for a Gangsta,” “Hell,” and”Bow and Say, Grace.” Is there a heaven for a shooter? Is there a paradise for a mover?/Or was I born in hell and all this stuff an illusion? But just as in romantic relationships, religion may bring forth more anxiety and uncertainty than comfort. In “Voices in my Head,” EST Gee sings to a buddy who committed suicide. Gee confesses to admiring the “bravery” of the deed while he sits awake in bed praying for freedom.
Gee’s confessionals are still shocking in how directly they confront the issues, even if rap has reached vastly new emotional depths in the previous ten years. I Never Felt Nun by EST Gee comes directly from the heart, armored with catharsis rather than the detached perspective of retrospect or a therapy session.
