Houston's history is dotted with albums that, fairly or not, have been swept aside. We'll examine them here. Have an album that you think nobody knows about but should? Email [email protected].
Tawn-P The Wake Up Kiss (self-released, 2011)
It feels a bit like Tawn P, a teeny-tiny firecracker MC with an affinity for dreadlocks and short pants, materialized out of thin air. One day she didn't exist, the next day she did, like an inverse of the thesis statement in UGK's "One Day": Tawn-P this, Tawn-P that, Tawn-P something, something baseball bat.
It was strange, really, and for a bit, it seemed like her apparent birth from nothingness would cauterize her ability to be anything other than the universe's child. But then she released The Wake Up Kiss. And watch the fuck out.
Tawn's scratchy, brassy voice is instantly entertaining - it sounds like it's been dragged back and forth through TV static - and she wields it like an axe murderer for a large percentage of TWUK. On it, she's aggressive and boisterous and confrontational and occasionally insightful and perpetually energetic, slowing down only to breathe and blink every ten or so minutes.