I’m sure anyone who has even casually listened to a rap song or project has heard this egregious and, now meaningless, cliché in hip-hop: “I’m the realest in the game.” For those on the outside looking in, letting people know how real you are feels like a rite of passage and a lie all at the same time. (Remember, a certain Australian rapper with a Southern blaccent also said it. If you know, you know.) Authenticity is a HUGE concern in hip-hop because nobody within the genre does it simply for entertainment value. Too many people who love the genre rely on it as an art form to cover their daily lives. Some people face real consequences over bars that hit too close to home. This begs a question: how many of these rappers who have declared this have met Austin, Texas’s resident flamethrower CENSORED Dialogue (Jazz Aurora on paperwork)?
What makes CENSORED dialogue a compelling rapper, if not an overall person, is how much she doesn’t have to flex her authenticity. It comes naturally—sometimes, she just winds up pissing off some folks. Whether the topic is about sexual health or perhaps, even about hip-hop itself, she stands on her words like no other. If she finds out you are dating a 17-year-old minor, not only will she hang up on you, but she’ll likely slap the shit out of you when she exits the booth. The best thing is such directness allows for vulnerable moments to shine through on her latest project, Pyrex Housecat.
Where her 2021 album Afro-Pessimist focused squarely on being Black in America, Pyrex Housecat briefly describes the life of being a Black trans woman. Specifically, the type that is too busy trying to survive to worry about conforming to the idea of how trans women are supposed to be to the public. But first, cloud rap opener “I Don’t Give AF If You Transgender Clean Yo Damn Microwave” begins with a minor yet snicker-inducing shot at Wayne Gretzky with extra bullets aimed at fellow problematic trans artists—most of whom were bleeped out to avoid further beefs but you can suss out if you are a part of the trans rap movement—and “tone-policing” “tender queers.” For some, to hear “tender queers” from a trans woman or anyone in the queer community is a Peggyrian move, but it is one that best demonstrates such direct shots.
That isn’t the last time CENSORED dialogue aims her crossfire at those drawing her ire. She saves her most poisonous arrows for irritants, such as gender-conformers who demand femininity from trans women like herself on “Baby Range,” a track that boasts buzzing overdrive synths, lost loves on the psychedelic soul-infused boom bap of “OYSTERS,” and random ops on “8200” featuring anarchist rapper Ghais Ghevera, where CENSORED dialogue recounts losing friends to death and her own near-death experiences in 2015.
On this album, she takes full advantage of the fact she now has the world’s ear. After all, on “8200,” she boasts “Pitchfork, they be watching me / TheNeedleDrop be watching me.” Notoriety aside, the same song stresses that CENSORED dialogue is currently still stuck to the grind for both survival and making a name for herself—the same one causing her dear friend and loyal fan to pass away. This friend is mourned on the last two tracks: the Mars Kumari assisted “Stir Crazy” and the Chloe Hotline produced heartbreaking closer “Right Time.”
Stylewise, Pyrex Housecat tackles sounds from hypertrap, as seen on the bouncy chipmunk sound of “Leroy Jenkins” featuring Krishu to rage rap on “Deadname” featuring fellow trans MC Backxwash to even dipping into the psychedelic trap/chopped-and-screwed waters such as the woozy “Lordosis” and the second half of “Leroy Jenkins.” Although CENSORED dialogue explores multiple styles your focus will likely be on what she has to say. As for honesty, she does demand the same from others—even if you are a detractor. “I grew up fighting all my life / I x-ray through the fuckin’ smoke,” she sneers before warning a critic that “Where I’m from, you talking all that shit? You better mean that / that metal leave your ass stuck, and I ain’t talking freeze tag.”
Pyrex Housecat has style and nerve in spades. For what was supposed to be her first full-length—she has said Afro Pessimist was a cathartic yet accidental first entry—Pyrex Housecat is a worthy introduction to the world of CENSORED Dialogue, but one that, like all the best and most trustworthy records, isn’t for the faint of heart.
