To speak of “Flex” by J. McKenna and not mention the ghost of Sisyphus feels almost negligent. But this isn’t the ancient boulder-pusher’s track—this is J. McKenna’s stage, where every uphill moment is transformed into a victory lap before the next climb appears. It’s a song that doesn’t ask whether you’ve reached the peak but celebrates the mere fact that you’re still moving.
Don’t get comfortable, McKenna seems to growl over a rage beat that both burns and blooms. The anger in the instrumental doesn’t suffocate; it’s more like the boxing coach pushing you for one more round after you’ve told him you’re done. It’s tough love—real tough. But do we blame the coach when we see growth, see definitions emerge where there were once insecurities? Maybe we should thank the coach. Or maybe just “Flex”.
Incorporating Papiamento into a genre that loves its rhythms fast and loud isn’t something done haphazardly. It’s a juxtaposition surely meant to make you pause, not in confusion but in curiosity. Why soften the edges of a rage beat with a language so intimate, so grounded in a specific culture? Why not? The message of perseverance is universal, so why not let the language chase it across borders unbothered by expectation? You don’t see many marathons run in circles.
What stands out though, beyond the production wizardry—remind yourself again McKenna did it all himself—is how this track winks at the concept of achievement. What is a victory if it’s dismissed? Aren’t we all just piles of accomplishments forgotten by the very people who made them? Nah, “Flex” says “go ahead, celebrate; you’ve earned that exhale between punches.”
Final thought: if you’re looking for permission to acknowledge your grind, McKenna has signed, sealed, and delivered it in a language you might not understand—but you feel it.
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