The rapper's queer-friendly rhymes were the soundtrack to my exploration of gay culture this summer.
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My summer was unpredictable and tumultuous, but I managed to establish a few small habits that served as anchors: I made two cups of coffee with milk and sweetener every weekday morning before work and drank them at my desk while reading Toronto's local news. I made a point of crawling to the beach at least once a weekend to sprawl out on a thick, spectacularly tacky towel and sip Diet Coke, watching children splash around in Lake Ontario's algae-choked surf. And almost every Saturday between midnight and 2:00 a.m., I heard a handful of Azealia Banks songs in the midst of a few dozen glistening, mostly tank-topped, well-coiffed young men at a club in Toronto's gay village.
I usually greeted the familiar skittering drum patterns and glossy synth pulses with a loud "WOO!" and dual-wielded finger guns, pointing at either my group of friends or, if I had become isolated while trekking to the bathroom or bar, straight towards the ceiling. I wasn't hearing the songs for the first time that evening, either; Banks was usually an integral component of any pre-club soundtrack, deployed with abandon no matter the laptop DJ directing the evening's get-psyched music. As I begin schlepping back to class with fallen leaves crunching underfoot, the heat and haze of summer 2012 in the rear view mirror, it's become clear that the music of Azealia Banks and my first forays into social excursions defined by sexuality are inextricably linked, with Banks herself serving as some sort of matron saint, granting me serenity while paying every hefty cover charge and resilience on the evening I broke my only pair of flip-flops.
I associate all of Banks' songs with my exploration of gay cultural events over the past few months, so it's hard to isolate a single definitive track. There's "212," her most famous song to date, which puts a spotlight on Banks' deft lyrical maneuvers and sassy braggadocio:
Source: youtube.com
There's also "Liquorice," in which Banks spits intimidatingly hot fire over a hyper beat, pausing only to coo "I could be the right girl":
