Paying tribute to Earl Sweatshirt’s “I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside,” released 10 years ago.
I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside sounds like a tape I would have bought for $8 from the ATAK website 30 years ago. And I mean that in the best way possible. It was released by a 20-year-old, LA-based emcee with a weird name. It sounds like he recorded it while sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking rhymes directly into a 4-Track. The rapper dispenses left-of-center subject matter while utilizing an off-kilter delivery. It’s mostly self-produced. The project’s cover, which features the album’s title block-printed in white on black background, could have been printed at Kinko’s and hand-folded to fit into the cassette case.
Except, of course, I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside wasn’t recorded in the mid-1990s by an obscure West Coast rapper. It’s the second full-length by Thebe “Earl Sweatshirt” Kgositsile, a member of the Odd Future Wolf Gang. And it was released 10 years ago on his Tan Cressida imprint through Columbia Records. However, with its lo-fi feel and no-frills execution, it does not sound like the sophomore release of a young rapper signed to Sony
Over the years, I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside has grown-on me. It took me a bit, as it was a departure from Earl’s debut Doris (2013), an album that I love. But I’ve come to appreciate the album’s grittier feel and its unpolished moments. I can also admit the project’s subject matter was ahead of its time. And not just because of the post-COVID pandemic reality. Earl conveys a raw core and emotional honestly that was not present in many hip-hop releases, even in the mid 2010s.
Earl recorded I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside while isolated. He had seriously injured himself while skating, requiring knee surgery. Stuck at home, he faced a myriad of issues, such of a break-up with his girlfriend, depression, and various substance abuse issues. It’s easy to forget that he was 20 when this album dropped, so he was very much coming to terms with his upbringing and what it meant to be an adult. He used I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside to chronicle these his thorny thoughts and feelings, grappling with his psyche in almost real time. He continued to demonstrate why he’s one of the best emcees of his generation.
Even with as much as he was dealing with mentally, I Don’t Like Shit… is a brief sonic excursion, coming in at a hair under a half an hour. The relatively brevity adds to the album’s replay value, with Earl knowing how to make the most out of its run-time. The project covers a lot of ground in a short period, and even includes multiple instrumental interludes to give the listeners some space in-between all of the trauma.
Earl produced almost the entirety of I Don’t Like Shit… on his own, under his RandomBlackDude alter ago. Earl creates a sparse aesthetic, as the backdrop often crackles and buzzes with distortion, even as the drums consistently knock. The production style fits the album’s rawness of the subject matter.
“Grief,” I Don’t Like Shit’s first single and centerpiece, features Earl venting his troubled mind. He shares his experiences with addiction, speaking to his struggles with anxiety, isolation, and depression. He fights to maintain control, hoping not to succumb to misery, fearing that he will feed the negativity with his bad habits. “Lately, I’ve been panicking a lot,” he raps. “Feeling like I’m stranded in a mob / Scrambling for Xanax out the canister to pop.” As the song draws to a close, Earl’s delivery slows to a crawl, as he slurs out his lyrics, seemingly overwhelmed by the weight of his thoughts.
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The album-opening “Huey” harkens back to some of the issues he spoken upon with Doris, recalling his work reacclimating himself to life stateside while he reconnects with Odd Future and the music scene. He later grapples with coming of age as a troubled teen on “Grown-Ups.” Tag-teaming with A$AP Mob affiliate Da$h, he recalls some of his wild exploits and delves into his complicated relationship with both of his parents.
“Mantra” features Earl attempting to navigate a pair of complex issues. He first looks to balance his celebrity status with his desire for privacy, wanting to disengage from the public while feeling an obligation to connect with his fans. On the track’s second verse, he speaks to his ex-girl, narrating a messy and acrimonious break up. On “Faucet,” he looks to back to his troubled days before being sent by his mother to a retreat school in Samoa, comparing it to his lingering sense of disconnection from his family and friends now that he’s returned.
The extra-brief “Off Top,” produced by Left Brain, is the album’s grimiest entry, featuring drums and a vocal sample that shuffle, buzz, and pop. The album’s production sheds its lo-fi sound during its three-song back stretch. “Inside” serves as a companion-piece to “Grief,” with Earl begrudgingly learning how to cope with the complications that come with increased fame.
After the heavy doses of psychodrama, Earl ends I Don’t Like Shit… with a pair tracks that focus on his lyrical abilities. “DNA” is Earl’s team-up with Na’Kel Smith, his longtime close friend and fellow skater. The two herald their own skills, with Earl boasting, “N***a, my team is magicians / We think of the shit that we want then we get it.”
The album comes to a close with “Wool,” the first track that Earl recorded for the project. It features a lead-off verse from Vince Staples, who was then only months from blowing up. Vince shined in all of his appearances on Doris, and continues to hit his marks here, proclaiming, “Shawty, I be swimming with sharks; your posse full of prawns.”
I Don’t Like Shit… has helped set the stage for the way Earl conceives and executes album over the last decade. First, none of the albums that he’s released since have exceeded a half an hour in run time (most are close to 25 minutes in length). Second, he tends to each individual track on the shorter side as well. Third, he continues to use his rhymes as a form as a way to perform psychological maintenance.
The subject matter of Earl’s material may be challenging, but he always provides a worthwhile listening experience, and he approaches it with an impressive, but resigned fearlessness. It’s the type of album that would have fascinated me growing-up, as I would have bumped the cassette while driving along Bay Area roads or put in my Walkman as I stalked across U. Penn’s campus between classes. It would have been $8 well spent.
