Key Glock - Yellow Tape (LP) - Black & White Vinyl

Key Glock’s Yellow Tape arrived on January 31, 2020, right as his star was detonating off the back of Dum and Dummer with Young Dolph. It plays like a statement of independence. No features, no filler, just Glock locked into his zone over icy Memphis production that thumps in the chest. Paper Route EMPIRE has always prized self-reliance, and Yellow Tape feels like the moment Glock proved he could carry a full-length on his own voice, his own cadence, his own sense of humor.

The beats lean sparse and mean, a modern echo of the city’s lineage. BandPlay, Glock’s go-to collaborator, laces the record with tight drums, rubbery low end, and eerie synth lines that leave plenty of room for Glock to flex. He has that deadpan drawl that can turn a simple bar into a smirk. He rarely overcomplicates stuff, which is a strength. The punchlines land because the flows are clean and the pockets are crisp. You hear it right away on Mr. Glock, a chest-out banger that doubles as a mission statement. The hook sticks, the bass knocks, and Glock sounds like he’s rapping from the driver’s seat with one hand on the wheel and the other counting racks.

Look At They Face is even nastier. It’s a taunt that rides a hypnotic loop, a perfect example of how Glock can repeat a phrase until it feels like a mantra. There is no vocal guest to break the spell, which suits him. He has talked in interviews about preferring to record alone, and you hear that single-minded focus here. The album keeps its temperature with Crash, a sneering standout built for parking lot subs, where each ad-lib hits like a turn signal. Nothing overstays its welcome. Songs clock in tight, verses hit, and the next banger slides in before the last one fades.

Part of the appeal is how Yellow Tape bottles a specific Memphis energy without nostalgia cosplay. You can draw a line from Three 6’s menace to these beats, sure, but Glock is firmly present tense. He’s not chasing crossover polish, he’s sharpening what already works. The result is a record that knocks in the gym, in the car, and at 2 a.m. when your neighbors might not forgive you. It is also a record that traveled. Critics caught on to the cohesion and the no-features clarity, with outlets like Pitchfork singling out the relentless focus and Glock’s knack for turning simple flexes into earworms. Fans latched onto the same thing. The songs feel durable, built to live on playlists next to Dolph classics and newer Memphis heat, and Yellow Tape made a strong showing on the charts while doing it Glock’s way.

What really sticks is the personality. Glock’s jokes roll off like they’re tossed across the room to a friend. There is bravado, but there’s also a cool shrug that suggests he knows not to overthink a good thing. When he hits a pocket and rides it for a full track, the repetition becomes a design choice, a way to make the beat feel bigger. That minimalist confidence is what turns a collection of street records into an album you run back front to back. No conceptual overreach, no skits, just a steely throughline.

If you collect rap LPs, Yellow Tape vinyl is the play that puts early-peak Glock right on your shelf. Key Glock vinyl has become a go-to for Southern rap heads who want something that rattles without sacrificing replay value, and this one earns its space. You might spot a copy tucked in a Melbourne record store, or find a good price when you buy Key Glock records online. Either way, Yellow Tape scratches that itch for speaker-testing low end and straight-ahead writing, which makes it one of the smarter picks among Key Glock albums on vinyl. For folks hunting across vinyl records Australia, it is a crowd-pleaser that still feels personal.

Yellow Tape set the table for everything Glock did next, and it still sounds fresh. The beats feel airless in the best way, Glock’s voice stays granite, and the songs keep their shape long after the first hook fades. If you’re new to him, start here. If you already know, you probably don’t need the reminder, but here it is anyway. This is the one you turn up.