Her uncensored reality is one of violent threats ("Let a nigga try me, try me, I'ma get his whole muthafuckin' family"), pop culture references ("Set it off like Jada Pinkett"), armored self-awareness ("Mind full of money, heart full of demons"), everyday irritants ("Gave him my number he won't stop calling"), and casually tragic asides ("I've been out my mind since they killed my cousin"). In this setting, Dej's lonely sing-song melody propels errant thoughts, as if she were singing to herself with no audience. It's the sonic topography of the Midwest, evoking open spaces under the unreal orange glow of city sodium lights. In combination with its propulsive kick drums, the record's soft washes of synthesizer and serene, reverb-heavy piano recall a local history of futurist Detroit techno as much as any local hip-hop antecedents.
"Try Me", released in early July, glides on an airy, atmospheric gem of a beat by Ypsilanti, Mich., producer DDS.
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