The Moors took Europe out of the dark ages. This shit is too uninnovative to bear the name; Cookin Soul supplies soundtracks for sundowning and Nack's not going out that way. He proves that much.
2Mex grapples with indie rap fame; thousands of people know your name even as you lack mass acclaim. There are people who would scream your name, stand in line to see you, toss thousands your way. He also grapples with how little any of that shit matters. You can tell the barista Your Fanbase Will Destroy Her all you'd like, you're still dealing with funerals, heartbreaks, and mass surveillance in the era of tekno-gnosis.
"Understand / I would trade my entire fanbase / for one ... read more
I am still taking recs & will be for a while. Leave me one through my bio.
LO2 is a total departure from the first tape, the only throughline being the emcees themselves. Obijuan has since picked up his flow and looms. is here frenzied, hardly legible through his fury. Chickenscratch. The languid.oceans project, though, was never particularly calligraphous, and the style shift is welcome. dylantheinfamous, though, crumples the parchment.
Gruff and grizzled, perfectly executed return-to-form for the NY MC par excellence. Drums clattering like piano keys in condemned housing.
Edward Skeletrix is infatuated with stock photos, the subtle unhumanity emanating from pictures made to be universal. The music is much the same; attempts at wresting expression out of a captured genre, of forcing his humanity to seep through the cracks of industry. Art is Sucking The Life Out Of Me.
From the very onset my barrier-to-entry for a lot of the plugg and rage so highly praised by my contemporaries has been the prevalence of entirely vapid materialism, an unquestioning and ... read more
I think the narrative about this album sounding like a bygone era, a non-existent New York are misguided; this sound is refined specifically to meet this current moment. As popular and alternative lanes become further polarized, crystalize into specific sounds / demographix, you feel this creeping resentment in the underground. Emcees who'd've had a chance at recognition two decades back playing out the same old tracks, less and less satisfied with themselves & the game. LTD VOL.1 ... read more
Obijuan and looms.' collab just feels late. Obi had much better lo-fi cuts years before this tape, and having dylantheinfamous produce the whole thing was a nonsensical misstep. It's grasping at sounds they've already mastered.
a Rosaura, Javi y mi viejo mundo.
My great grandmother passed last week. She was born in Olá, Panamá. I've never been. My — her — family made a big effort to assimilate. Not her. Not really. She drank bone broth into her old age and moved away some years ago, down to Florida. Someplace further South, more familiar for her as her hair greyed. We didn't speak as often as I wanted. I didn't know how. I won't forget. "Aiii, mijo.."
"It ... read more
Death Grips has only ever gotten less impressive to me as I've heard more industrial & experimental hip-hop. The reputation this tape has seems entirely disparate to the content of the tape itself, which is relatively watered-down, catchy colloquial takes on contemporary experimentalisms.
Clutching with mine tattered hands, ground to nubb'd finials draped in scarlet. The instruments with which I receive have been abused. While every word connects, connects, these sounds flash me back to lecherous, putrid theatres, eyes leaking, beading into silver screen. Instrumentals so maximalizing, resembling only the drabe catharsis-salesmen, liberal eclectics, resounding like psycho-cinematic fusillade. Maybe I should just read her book.
In some ways, though likely fewer than I noticed, this is the little sister record to who told you to think??!!?!?!?!. Both are musings on identity, not so much as an individualized facet of presentation but as a historical phenomena. Identity, since inception, has been a trapping that misunderstands our very nature; or, as MCPB puts it, "Beliefs are the police of the mind!"
Triple parentheses are used by anti-semites to indicate Jewishness. Jewishness is ... read more
The informant yelled "Black Power!,"
There's a noise in my head; creaky creepshow psychedelia creeping through my mind, vitrified. I thought we already told Bessie! Words clamoring out the punctograph — can you *feel* it? — Trismegistus killed Moctezuma, made barren waste of West-land materia prima. We're here in the hereafter, committing to be unwise, just in time for a Chinese sunrise. Those twinkles are traitors; timoneering astral bodies wayfound new worlds ... read more
I've enjoyed Son Doobie since his appearance on Tha Grimm Teachaz' LP, & always been a fan of Cypress Hill, so my West Coast kick leading me here was well-reasoned. Which Doobie U Be? is accurately funky, zany, and catchy. Both Son Doobie and Tomahawk Funk's lyrical stylings are less-so on substance, more-so on fun, and it works, save for a few outdated lines and throwaways that would have benefited from a little more forethought.
Taking recs for the foreseeable future to work off this funk. See my bio for the link; please, keep requests anonymous. I want to hear calls of the void, not a familiar voice
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One of those few frustrating moments I can only conclude something is not for me. I cannot point to any one thing that does not jive with me, any one wack line or throwaway beat. Yet and still I am unmoved, and unable to interrogate that as I usually would. I think I just don't like his voice.
Exile's been stagnant for two decades and wasn't interesting when he started. Blu's lyrical ability scales directly with the quality of production he's put on. The shit is mids at best because no risks are taken & don't have to be to appeal to the 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭–hip-hop head posers. Nostalgia baiting an album that wasn't great in the first place.
The Blowedian answer to contemporaneous jazz rap acts.. think Tribe, but West Coast. It's fine for what it is — no doubt autocephalous heresy to the 2pacalypse acolytes of the day — but we count far more convivial congregations among its contemporaries. Ones not so troped out & substanceless; many also Blowedian!
"Stop saying that fucking word!"
Of course, N.W.A. and Fellowship did come from the same cafe, and it's all love between them cats, but there is tension between the sounds; waves clamoring like wet metals against each other, each hoping for a good, clean, loss. Blackshirts in the streets beat their former brothers.
Creative Differences is a thrashing death, a beast-too-burdened splintering its sinew into chainlink; finally, something to call its own, finality, a gate to keep. ... read more
This thing is a fuckn time capsule, capturing the sound of, no doubt, many a [blank] youth. Me, though, I'm too young for nostalgia.
Shit is too high-quality to be a proxy, too reminiscent of past peaks to be a pastiche. This is how conscious emcee ages gracefully; it takes rarity! Regardless, the reflections on coming-of-age and the accompanying quotidian rage are appealing. Military recruiters in the cafeteria, throwing pamphlets and hiding they hands.
We still here. Nack raps big on his five-percenter ish again and lays down exclusively fire verses. Coincidence? 7 in 10 Gods say NO..
"They couldn't possibly become anything other than / What had been demonstrated in front of them"
I seen the illest rapper in the world with my own eyes on Friday. No mediation in the meditation, no invisible decorum, one particularly barbaric yawp was the highlight of my eve: "𝘞𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘠 𝘍𝘌𝘌𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚?". Avanti! Only barbarians are able to rejuvenate a world in the throes of collapsing civilization. Only barbarians refuse to ... read more