PentHouse Tapes, Vol. 1 Review
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by Rahul
Since the inception of DL91 in February 2024, the label has been on a relentless run, dropping quality projects with a consistency that’s hard to ignore. Founded by Seedhe Maut, DL91 reflects not just their artistic vision, but also the work ethic that has defined their journey so far.
There was a time when Seedhe Maut enjoyed near-universal admiration within the scene. But as with any act operating at the top for long enough, admiration eventually invites resistance. Some of that criticism is fair, rooted in genuine artistic disagreements, while some of it stems from fatigue — the sense that the same names continue to dominate the core hip-hop conversation.
That fatigue is real. Many artists and listeners are eager to see new voices occupy that space. But the truth is, consistency at this level isn’t accidental. With the kind of output Seedhe Maut have maintained, combined with the strategic clarity brought in by Mo Joshi, it doesn’t feel like their momentum is slowing down anytime soon.
What has changed, however, is the sound.
Over the past year, Seedhe Maut — and Calm in particular — have leaned more openly into a new-school sonic palette. PentHouse Tapes, Vol. 1, a collaborative tape by Calm and DL91, sits comfortably within this evolution. This isn’t experimentation for the sake of relevance; it feels deliberate, confident, and well-executed.
From start to finish, the tape is tightly constructed. The production is immersive without being overwhelming, the writing balances flex with introspection, and the storytelling feels natural rather than forced. Calm sounds at ease in this space — sharp when he needs to be, reflective when the moment calls for it — proving that a new-school approach doesn’t have to come at the cost of depth.
The visual identity deserves mention too. The artwork by Arindam Dhar captures the mood of the tape perfectly — striking, minimal, and atmospheric, pulling you into the world of PentHouse Tapes even before a single track plays.
The tape unfolds in two distinct emotional halves. It opens on a more introspective, laid-back note — reflecting on the quieter things that make us human: small wins, ambition without obsession, the fear of losing momentum, moments of heartbreak, and the need to slow down and breathe. There’s a sense of calm before the noise, a feeling of being alone with your thoughts at a height where things look clearer.
That tone shifts around the midpoint. From track 5, the energy pivots into celebration — sharper flexes, party-ready rhythms, and a more outward-facing confidence. This contrast feels deliberate. Much like a penthouse itself, the tape captures a duality: a space where you can step back, introspect, and see life from above — and the very same space that becomes a site for release, excess, and celebration when shared with others. PentHouse Tapes, Vol. 1 thrives in this tension between solitude and spectacle.
DR Top 3 Picks
1) Bun Maska (Calm, DL91Era, Seedhe Maut)
Bun Maska carries the strongest hook on PentHouse Tapes, Vol. 1 — one that lingers long after the track ends. It’s been on loop for us the longest, not because it tries to be loud or dramatic, but because of how quietly honest it is. This is easily one of the most affecting introspective tracks Calm has put out in recent times.
At its core, Bun Maska is about scale. Even when you’re “at the top,” it’s still the smallest, most ordinary things that bring real comfort — dipping a bun maska into chai, sitting alone with your thoughts, finding brief moments of calm amid pressure, expectations, and noise. Calm’s writing captures this contrast with painful clarity.
Lines about expensive watches paired with torn socks, or hiding behind chains more expensive than the emotions being suppressed, underline this contradiction beautifully. The song repeatedly returns to the idea that dreams evolve — earlier it was money, labels, recognition; now it’s something far more elusive: peace and happiness.
In the context of PentHouse Tapes, Vol. 1, Bun Maska represents the introspective half of the project at its strongest. It mirrors the idea of a penthouse not as a symbol of excess, but as a quiet space above the chaos — where clarity hits hardest, and where success doesn’t shield you from being human.
2) Watchu Know About Me (Calm, DL91Era, Ab 17)
Watchu Know About Me is storytelling at its most grounded. There’s no glorification here, no cinematic exaggeration: just two narratives unfolding in parallel, both shaped by dreams that never quite land where they were meant to.
Ab 17’s verse is devastating in its detail. He paints the story of a talented athlete whose life slowly slips off course — not because of a lack of ability, but because of circumstance, pressure, addiction, and the quiet erosion of discipline.
Calm’s verse shifts the perspective without breaking the theme. This isn’t the story of someone who failed to make it: it’s about someone who did, only to realise the system doesn’t love you back. A player reaches the highest domestic levels, wins trophies, plays under the brightest lights, yet finds himself disconnected from the joy that once drove him. Money comes in, visibility increases, but the soul of the game gets lost somewhere between leagues, politics, and optics.
Together, the verses create a powerful contrast. One dream dies before it gets a real chance. The other survives long enough to become hollow.
3) Red Cup (Calm, DL91Era, Seedhe Maut)
Red Cup is our favourite beat on the tape. Stripped-down yet menacing, the production leaves just enough space for swagger to breathe, making every bar feel intentional rather than overcrowded.
The red cup itself becomes a central metaphor. On the surface, it’s a familiar symbol of alcohol, parties, and late nights — a shorthand for celebration and excess. But within the context of the tape, it carries more weight. The cup represents escape, release, and the need to switch off after carrying pressure for too long. It’s the same penthouse space that once allowed reflection now being repurposed for indulgence.
Calm leans into that contradiction. The flexes don’t feel forced; they feel like someone finally letting himself enjoy the moment, even if that enjoyment comes wrapped in numbness and bravado.
Encore ABJ’s verse adds texture to that chaos. While Calm embraces excess, Encore injects perspective — self-awareness, industry commentary, and sharp humour cutting through the noise. It balances the track without softening it, reminding you that beneath the flexing lies intention and control.
As the closing track, Red Cup completes the penthouse metaphor. After moments of solitude, reflection, and doubt, the tape ends at the party — music loud, cups raised, chaos embraced.
PentHouse Tapes, Vol. 1 feels like a snapshot — a moment in time where Calm stands at a height high enough to see both sides clearly. The loneliness that comes with ambition. The exhaustion behind success. And the release that follows when reflection turns into indulgence.
What makes this tape work is its honesty. It doesn’t glamorise struggle, nor does it pretend celebration solves everything. Instead, it allows both to coexist: the quiet mornings and the loud nights, the bun maska with chai and the red cup in hand.
In a scene often obsessed with proving growth through scale, PentHouse Tapes, Vol. 1 proves something more subtle: growth can also mean clarity. Knowing when to sit alone with your thoughts, and when to let go of them completely.
And sometimes, that’s the highest point you can reach.
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