Welcome to Listening Habits, a column where I share the music I’ve been fixated on recently.
Max B has been home from jail for a little less than six months now. It's been a pleasure to watch him gallivant around the city, making up for all the lost time.
The rapper, known on his tax form as Charley Wingate and known by his old Harlem associates as Charley Rambo, made his name in the rap game during an all-too-brief run in the 2000s, as one of the most colorful members of Jim Jones' ByrdGang, his solo offshoot from the Diplomats (although due to his growing up with rappers Cam and Mase, Max is like honorary Dipset). Max's combination of sing-songy vocals, street-oriented lyrical content, and unique lingo and style was an influence on just about every rapper who came after him, from Wiz Khalifa to French Montana to Kanye West to A Boogie to the whole sexy drill movement. It also influenced Jones, though that's a touchy subject.
But Max, who'd only just gotten out of prison when his career first took off in 2005, couldn't get out of the streets, particularly after he started beefing with Jones over money. In 2009, he was sentenced to 75 years in prison on conspiracy charges tied to robbery, kidnapping, assault, and murder. A plea bargain in 2016 eventually trimmed his sentence considerably, and he was released at the end of 2025.
Off the strength of his own gusto, and with help from longtime partner French Montana, Max has hit the ground running since coming home. He's already released two projects: Public Domain 7, a solo effort, and Coke Wave 3.5, a collab tape with French. The latter tape's "Ever Since U Left Me (I Went Deaf)" has turned into a minor national hit, its very obvious sample (KC and The Sunshine Band's "That's the Way (I Like It)") reminiscent of something Bad Boy would've done in 1999. It's a fun, groovy song that shows French and Max at their best, having an absolute blast.
Max's strength has always been his knack for communicating just how much fun he has rapping. He's the equivalent of your drunk uncle singing along to the oldies at a barbecue, but if your uncle also just so happens to be the coolest guy you know. He can't sing, but he brims with passion and confidence, and has a great ear for melody. He's not the most technically polished writer, but he says just the smoothest, coolest shit. The coolness and fun he exudes is infectious, making you feel like you could at any time borrow his energy just by putting on one of his songs. Whether or not that's enough to translate into a starring career is as open a question today as it was in 2008.
Rap in general, and New York rap especially, is in a strange place. On the one hand, there has never been a better time to be an old rapper, and New York is obviously full of those. There are all kinds of new revenue streams for the old heads to dip into nowadays, to go with the nostalgia tours that are growing in prevalence as more of the fan base enters middle age. On top of that, the greater music industry doesn't seem to know how to mint new rap stars anymore, so the ones whose careers were made in earlier days get to enjoy a level of visibility that the genre doesn't traditionally bestow upon its older acts. At the same time, these kinds of old-timer gigs aren't exactly stadium shows. Max was prolific in his heyday, and while his notoriety rose behind bars, he is in a lot of ways only now getting started 18 years later. He and French are damn near inseparable at the moment, as the latter tries his best to bring Max to some of the heights he has been able to enjoy during Max's time away.
Still, what else does New York rap have going for it right now? J. Cole doing nostalgia-baiting Clue tapes? A$AP Rocky's Hollywood raps? Fivio Foreign showing his ass online? There are the Griselda rappers, sexy drill, a lot of cool underground experimentalists, but not much that combines freshness with the potential to really captivate the whole city. If it takes reanimating a dead corpse to get the city excited again, why not let it be soundtracked by Max B and his Pelle Pelle glory-days music? He's been through so much that he's earned it.
R.I.P. Michael "5000" Watts
If you're at all familiar with the Houston rap scene, you of course know DJ Screw, whose Southside chopped-and-screwed sound defined the city. But in Houston's Northside, there was a whole label that helped carry the flag for Screw's sound: Swishahouse. The DJs and rappers of Swishahouse made their own chopped-up and slowed-down music with stars like like Mike Jones, Paul Wall, and Chamillionaire. Swishahouse was originally founded by DJs OG Ron C and Michael "5000" Watts, the latter of whom died over the weekend at the age of 52. Swishahouse was regionally renown for screwed-up tapes like The Day Hell Broke Loose, the After The Kappa series, and my personal favorites, the R&B-themed Fuck Action tapes. But it was "Still Tippin'" that put Swishahouse on the map nationally, leading to two platinum albums in Jones's Who Is Mike Jones? and Wall's The Peoples Champ.
Watts passed away due to complications from an irregular heartbeat. His family released this statement on his Instagram account:
“It is with profound sadness and heartbreak that we inform the public of our beloved Michael Watts. We truly appreciate the love shown to Michael throughout his career and we ask for continued prayers as we navigate through this very hard journey.”
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If you would like to contribute something or ask a question for future installments, email me at israel@defector.com.
