What do you do when life hands you a hammer? Some might use it to build or create, while others may choose to wield it as a weapon. At the heart of Yaeji’s debut studio album, With a Hammer, lies an exploration of the link between creation and destruction. Recorded in New York and Seoul during the pandemic, the album finds the Brooklyn-based, Korean-American producer and singer deftly deconstructing white-hot breakbeat, trip-hop, and vocal sampling into a mosaic of unpredictable textures.
On “Fever,” Yaeji melds dissonant melodies and pointillistic synth work over frenzied drum ‘n’ bass, all before breaking into a spitfire Korean verse that’s equal parts rap and stream-of-consciousness poetry. On “Ready or Not,” she creates a skittering patchwork of vocal samples, layering sounds until they feel like they’re going to topple over from their own weight.
Elsewhere on With a Hammer, “Passed Me By,” which sounds like the lovechild of a New Orleans funeral procession and a midnight alleyway serenade, is mournfully funky. Yaeji’s chord changes defy conventional diatonic progressions, and the subdued percussion lends the track a whimsical sensibility. Altogether, the track lives somewhere between the gothic world of Tim Burton and the colorful flamboyance of Baz Luhrmann.
But for each jagged, dissonant song that Yaeji hurls into the mix, there’s a smoother, more melodic counterpart, showcasing the artist’s intuitive sense of balance. The album’s more straightforward tracks, like “For Granted” and “Done (Let’s Get It),” serve as a testament to Yaeji’s ability to craft infectious hooks without sacrificing her distinctive experimental edge. On “Happy,” she plays with sensuality and tenderness, her voice intermingling and harmonizing with genre-defying soul singer Nourished by Time’s silky vibrato.
As With a Hammer unfolds, it becomes clear that the push and pull of chaos and order, of melody and discord, permeates not just the soundscapes, but also the emotional core of Yaeji’s lyrics. Yaeji has talked about the bullying she experienced growing up as one of the only Asian kids at school, enduring the sting of exclusion while navigating the harsh landscape of youth. Throughout the album, she sings about feeling suffocated, lying in one place, hoping for a restart button to her life: “I was so pissed off, I thought I couldn’t hold it together/There were days I gave up/And put a mask on my face, brain, and heart,” she admits on the title track.
With a Hammer echoes the Greek myth of Hephaestus, who faced rejection and isolation but harnessed his talents through metallurgy, wielding his hammer to shatter expectations and create beauty. Yaeji assumes a similar power, using the proverbial tool to do the same. On “Michin,” she says, “Smash it like crazy/Let’s show it like crazy/It rises like crazy/And falls down like crazy.” The word, michin, which translates to “crazy” in English, embodies this bold, unapologetic approach to fucking shit up in the name of healing.
In fact, for Yaeji, a certain degree of destruction is a necessary prerequisite for creating something new. On “Done (Let’s Get It),” she asks, “Isn’t it our mission this life to/Break the cycles/Make it make you/Mend the cycles?” In this sense, breaking becomes a radical act of healing, enabling a transformation that paves the way for new beginnings. The chaos of shattered glass, splintered wood, and broken concrete might seem like the result of destruction, but With a Hammer suggests that they’re metaphors for the fragments of the pain we carry. In Yaeji’s world, when life hands you a hammer, you break shit down.
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