Zenzealia Marks First Full-Length Album Since 2019 Yung Rapunxel: Pt.II Mixtape

When Azealia Banks dropped her mixtape Yung Rapunxel: Pt.II back in September 2019, few could have predicted it would become a quiet touchstone for artists exploring the fringes of sound and mindfulness five years later. That project—born from delays, teases across social media and a eventual free release on SoundCloud—wasn’t just another entry in her catalog; it was a sonic experiment blending witch-hop, industrial textures, and raw vocal aggression into something that felt less like a traditional album and more like an induced state. Now, in 2026, as conversations swirl around her newer work Zenzealia being framed as an hour-long guided meditation suite, the echo of that 2019 mixtape feels increasingly relevant—not just for fans of avant-garde hip-hop, but for anyone in a city like Denver, Colorado, grappling with the relentless pace of modern life and seeking unconventional paths to mental respite.

Denver’s relationship with experimental sound has always been layered. Long before the rise of wellness-focused apps and biohacking collectives in neighborhoods like RiNo or Highlands Ranch, the city fostered underground scenes where music doubled as therapy. Think of the late-night electronic sets at Larimer Lounge that bled into sunrise, or the impromptu sound baths hosted in converted warehouses near Brighton Boulevard—spaces where rhythm wasn’t just heard but felt in the sternum. Banks’ Yung Rapunxel: Pt.II, with its tracks like “BACK FROM HELL (TURN IT UP)” and “RAPUNXEL’S INFERNO,” operated in a similar liminal zone: aggressive enough to jolt the nervous system, yet rhythmic and hypnotic enough to induce a trance-like state. It wasn’t meditation in the app-guided, breath-counting sense; it was sonic confrontation as a pathway to clarity—a concept that resonates deeply in a city where altitude already alters perception, and where residents often seek intensity to counteract the mental flattening of screen saturation and suburban sprawl.

What makes this relevant now isn’t just nostalgia. As Zenzealia invites listeners to reframe Banks’ work through a meditative lens, it mirrors a broader shift in how urban populations engage with art for emotional regulation. In Denver specifically, this ties into municipal efforts like the Denver Department of Public Health & Environment’s Mental Wellness Initiative, which has funded pilot programs exploring non-clinical interventions for stress reduction—including music-based therapies in community centers across Montbello and Westwood. Simultaneously, organizations like SoundThink Colorado, a local nonprofit that partners with venues such as the Ogden Theatre to study acoustics and cognitive impact, have begun publishing research on how certain frequencies and rhythmic patterns—precisely the kind Banks employs in tracks like “DEXEDRINE” or “SAINT KEITH”—can influence heart rate variability and cortisol levels. Even the Colorado Music Office, under the state’s Office of Economic Development and International Trade, has noted a rise in grant applications for projects blending experimental audio with public wellness, signaling that what once lived in mixtape obscurity is now informing civic strategy.

Given my background in analyzing how cultural movements translate into localized wellness practices, if this trend of reframing experimental sound as mindfulness tools impacts you in Denver, here are the three types of local professionals you need to seek out—not as prescriptions, but as starting points for your own exploration:

• Community Sound Artists & Facilitators: Look for individuals who host regular sessions in accessible spaces like libraries (e.g., Denver Public Library’s ideaLAB branches) or recreation centers. Prioritize those who can articulate their intent—whether it’s using specific BPM ranges to modulate arousal states or incorporating field recordings from local environments like the South Platte River—and who emphasize participant agency over prescriptive outcomes. Avoid anyone promising “cures” or requiring expensive proprietary equipment.
• Integrative Wellness Coaches with Audio Literacy: These professionals blend traditional coaching (often certified through bodies like the International Coaching Federation) with a demonstrable understanding of how sound affects psychology. Seek those affiliated with or recommended by integrative health clinics in areas like Cherry Creek or Capitol Hill, who reference peer-reviewed studies on auditory driving or binaural beats (even if their sessions use more analog methods like drumming or tonal instruments), and who collaborate with local audiologists or neuroscientists from institutions like CU Anschutz for referrals when needed.
• Academic-Adjacent Researchers at Local Universities: While not direct service providers, engaging with scholars at places like the University of Denver’s Lamont School of Music or Metropolitan State University of Denver’s Department of Music can deepen your understanding. Look for faculty or grad students publishing work on ethnomusicology, music cognition, or the therapeutic applications of avant-garde genres—many offer public lectures, open lab sessions, or community workshops through partnerships with venues like Swallow Hill Music. Their value lies in helping you contextualize personal experiences within broader cultural and scientific frameworks.

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