When the systems we’re born into choke the air out of our lungs, art becomes the fire we pass from hand to hand. Protest doesn’t always look like a march. Sometimes it’s a hook that makes you clench your fists. Sometimes it’s a verse that refuses to leave your mind long after the beat fades. The tracks in this week’s FoldedWaffle feature don’t just entertain they confront, they reclaim, they throw gasoline on the narrative that music should be safe, marketable, and stripped of its teeth.
At a time when queer artists, women in hip hop, and independent voices still face glaring pay gaps and gatekeeping, each of these records is an act of resistance. They’re crafted in bedrooms, on borrowed time, often without the financial backing or industry cushion their peers enjoy — yet they demand space in the conversation. This is music for those who know the mic can be a Molotov, and every bar a spark.
IAMJALEO – “Call Out”
IAMJALEO’s “Call Out” is the sound of a deep breath before slamming the door. Written during a beach escape, it channels the dizzying emotional swing between temporary freedom and the cold gravity of going back to a job, a city, or a relationship that’s quietly killing you. There’s no filter here the lyrics cut through the polite veneer of “stability” to reveal the suffocating weight it hides.
In the context of our theme, “Call Out” is rebellion in its purest form: refusing to play along with the story you’ve been sold. It’s not just about leaving a bad job it’s about refusing to normalize burnout and underpayment as the cost of survival.
Neil To No-One x EVeryman – “Sunset Cruisin’”
While much of this feature leans into confrontation, “Sunset Cruisin’” finds resistance in joy itself. A UK/LA link up with Neil To No One behind the boards and EVeryman on the mic, it blends modern boom bap with golden era positivity. This is the track you throw on to reclaim mental space from the endless stream of bad news — a reminder that escapism can be a radical act when the world profits off your exhaustion.
The grooves, influenced by everything from ATCQ to Gorillaz, don’t shy away from craftsmanship. They prove that conscious rap can still be playful and bright, without losing depth. In a climate where independent artists must hustle twice as hard for half the pay, tracks like this give a glimpse of the reward.
hazbeen – “I don’t like rap”
Few titles invite more curiosity — or potential controversy — than “I don’t like rap.” Hazbeen’s UK release, already climbing Groover’s charts, plays with expectations, forcing listeners to confront their own stereotypes. Is it satire? A confession? A dare? The ambiguity is the point. It flips the middle finger to purist policing and reminds us that the genre’s borders are defined only by those brave enough to redraw them.
In an era where algorithms flatten hip hop into whatever is most clickable, hazbeen’s work resists by leaning into discomfort. Whether you agree with the premise or not, you’ll remember the name.
Monty Gorman – “Chase It”
From the Bay Area’s independent trenches, Monty Gorman’s “Chase It” carries the restless pulse of someone doing it all themselves — writing, producing, rapping. This is DIY hip hop in its rawest form, the kind that doesn’t wait for permission or a budget to start moving. There’s urgency in the flow, a reminder that chasing the craft is a rebellion against the stagnation the system counts on.
Monty’s self sufficiency mirrors the broader fight against an industry where queer and women artists are underpaid not for lack of talent, but because the gatekeepers still cling to outdated hierarchies. “Chase It” is proof you don’t need those gates to make noise worth hearing.
The Young Yay – “Trickle Down Lies (Bay Message)”
If the rest of this playlist were embers, “Trickle Down Lies” is a full on blaze. The Young Yay delivers a fearless protest track targeting the absurdity of trickle-down economics, the cruelty of the billionaire class, and the violence of systemic racism and queer erasure. With a sharpened old school Bay Area cadence, they pull no punches from recalling police killings to mocking the hollow platitudes of the ultra-rich.
This isn’t performative rage; it’s lived experience turned into sonic defiance. Every bar feels urgent, crafted in the shadow of real grief and real stakes. As a queer artist, The Young Yay embodies the cultural undercurrent at the heart of this feature fighting to be heard and paid fairly in a world that often wants neither.
Closing Word
From personal liberation to joyous escape, from playful provocation to searing political critique, these tracks prove that resistance isn’t one dimensional. Whether it’s IAMJALEO’s refusal to stay quiet, Neil To No One’s reminder to breathe, hazbeen’s genre bending provocation, Monty Gorman’s self made hustle, or The Young Yay’s Molotov bars — each is an answer to a system designed to keep art safe and artists silent.
