Music is many things and, in many ways, says what many cannot put a voice to. It connects people to shared truths and gives form to emotions, turns silence into speech, and brings comfort to the things we struggle to name. When done right, it reflects lives back to us and at its core, it is a way of telling stories that words alone often cannot carry.
In many ways, “Can’t Tell It All” (CTIA), the debut mixtape project by the new Ghanaian trio in the hood, The Core, is precisely that kind of project. Made up of yungTC, Kobie Demar, and CoolMire, the collective introduces itself with a bold move that shows they are here for the long haul.
“Can’t Tell It All” draws from a long, heartfelt Ghanaian hip-hop storytelling tradition. Think of when the vibrant Skillions were on the come up. Think of listening to M3nsa. Again, think of “For My Brothers” by Ko-Jo Cue and think of the emotional weight in Kendrick’s “Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers”. It is the substance, depth, cohesion and spirit that pulls you along. These are the calibre of artistry that the tape aspires to match, and throughout the mixtape, the collective beautifully wears their influences while forging their own. They navigate the delicate bridge between hip-hop and hiplife, understanding the fine distinctions between them while holding their own space.
The 10-track project captures the resonance, unfiltered realities, and shared stories of young lives navigating uncertainty, loyalty, loss, love and survival. For what it’s worth, this tape is by the brethren, to the brethren, and for the brethren, a beautiful nod to the ongoing conversation around men’s mental health awareness, arriving at a time when such conversations are desperately needed.
Intro gets you instantly hooked into The Core’s story with a greeting from Emess. Like a proper Ghanaian setting, it displays courtesy, greeting you warmly before giving a crisp but revealing glimpse into who The Core really are. There’s also the subtle impression that the collective has been stalling their passion, trying to find the right balance between their individual hustles to literally kickstart their music. The good news is that it’s never too late for a hearty project.
When Demar comes through with conviction: “So many times, been looking for the perfect lines / Creative genius, all these flows, man, we never lie / Ndwom d3 3d3 fom, eha de3 b)k))” – and CoolMire comes launching with the harsh reality check: “They said it, we heard, ‘you sleeping on yourself’ damn it / Now it’s time to get it / Y’all getting the real life stories, route for journeys / Can’t tell it all but at least we telling”. You immediately understand this isn’t just music because how many times has a close pal chastised you for “sleeping on yourself”? To whoever did that to The Core, I give gratitude to them.
“Where Do We Go” channels mid-2000s hip-hop influences while grappling with existential questions that define young adulthood, particularly the boys. The track dissects the futility of endless hustle while offering subtle wisdom about presence and mortality. The vulnerability in lines like “So I just keep and wonder / Where the F** do we go when we hit the slumber / Is there a place so good we cannot remember / All the pain and struggles that we going through forever” elevates the track beyond typical youth anthems.
“Alone” showcases the mixtape’s melodic capabilities while exploring isolation and the universal hunger for connection. It’s a track that understands loneliness not as weakness but as a shared human condition deserving of compassion.
The peach in “For The Brethren” (FTB) becomes the tape’s emotional anchor, celebrating brotherhood while acknowledging its necessity for survival. CoolMire’s recounting of nearly losing his freedom adds weight to the collective’s bond, while his seamless flow transition into Demar’s verse demonstrates the chemistry that makes The Core work. This synergy between members does not just hold individual tracks together but is essentially the backbone of the entire project.
The collective maintains its momentum across “Nka M’awu,” “Problem” (embracing mumble-style melodic rap), and “M’adwen Ho.” Each track stays on course while touching on vital, every day, youthful battles that resonate far beyond their immediate community.
But in between that is the chilling on “Mensah’s Interlude” that truly distinguishes this mixtape. What pushes the tape over the edge is the raw meltdown, vulnerability, and empathy that emerges when you listen to Mensah’s voice, truly a highlight of the entire project. It is the unfiltered emotion, and the way grief and resilience dance together that prove authenticity in the storytelling. Mensah’s courage in sharing something so personal creates a moment that transforms the entire listening experience.
“Mentumi Nka” climaxes this exploration of pain beneath the surface, giving voice to the troubled souls of young African men who navigate societal expectations while battling internal struggles. It speaks of things not spoken of, such as family and trauma, human living, and the things that hold us together as a society. The track’s honesty is both heartbreaking and necessary.
The project concludes with “Living in the Moment,” a street-bop that serves as both a celebration and a reminder. Despite everything, the struggles, the uncertainty, and the pain, there’s still joy to be found in the present. It’s a perfect encapsulation of the mixtape’s central philosophy.
What makes me serenade over the “Can’t Tell It All” project is that The Core understands that shared struggle creates deeper connections than manufactured success stories. They may not be able to tell it all, but what they choose to share feels essential and deeply human; in that specificity, it achieves something universal. They gave us words to wear and sounds to visualize. They said enough for us to feel—enough to connect and enough to matter! Grace to The Core.
