The frontiersmen come home and still don't front. Shockadoom blends older experimentation with jazz instrumentation with those more recent conscious tropes best done in the West. "We will never fall the fuck off we promise," reaffirmed. Contemporaneous solo efforts did clearly take the bulk of their focus, though.
Bizzart manages to say essentially nothing of interest; lamentations on race relations, raps about raps, fashioned to an unconventional spoken-word aligned flow that falls flat over conventional production.
The jazzman ethos is here forgotten; too in-line with the conscious West Coast releases of the day, as the Fellowship follows the trends they had once set.
"You're not from the Castle, you're not from the village, you are nothing. Unfortunately, though, you are something, a stranger."
— Kafka
Bloomitudinous ways sweeping my days blue as of late. Admittedly I've been backed off Backwoodz by recent revelations. Longer piece on that soon, format pending. Indeed, Bloom is the mood of the era. The style of the day. Honestly, lord, this whole business had annulled my anualism; how am I meant to wise this doom? This is all ... read more
Ill sonics blending lower key lo-fi haze with classic catchy West Coast rhythms, but let's be real, conscious rap failed us. Nauseous gnostic self-importance as subject matter makes me Bored Stiff. sorry.
Quintessential Blowedian release. Chief among many a quaint essential LP, Driver loosies & rarities are here distributed deftly for only those deaf enough to hear. I don't live like Them. I welcome my soundtrack.
Synthy withdrawals from well-formulated poptimistic escapades. Somewhere between Kaleidosocope and Dont Give Up; two dope projects that don't need to be crossed.
Tender pop tape that builds on currents Geti has been processing — most Aeolian — for an eon now. I didn't expect to enjoy his singing so much. A means-tested medicine chest kept close in breast pocket throughout, a most supportive gallery.
Jvly takes the many sounds of the defrag-adjacent underground, ties them neatly into a bow and adorns a pipebomb with it. The tropes are pushed to their extremes, nothing in moderation; that would do a disservice to the feelings captured. We all captured.
At it's best when Nosdam's nostrums collapse into the classic hazed malaise, emulating the bennies Kenny keeps popping.
What's understood don't gotta be said. What's said don't gotta be understood.
My understanding of art is as follows — to my most discerning disciples, I do apologize, but I must be digestible for a moment — art is a process of conversation between piece and observer. In this conversation both parties are canvas, both apply their palettes, paints, preferences, perspectives, performances to the other. The piece in the view of the observer is altered just as the ... read more
Vayda is comfortable, but stagnating. Every one of her major projects these days has at least one hamfisted feature, seemingly intended as a pull factor for broader audiences. I understand the hunger, but it's only famished.
Geti has long had an affinity for those washed-up wrasslin retirees; Duggan in the dugout, The Whip sips whimsy. Senseirengeti has mastered the dim mak! and has used it on himself. Some say he was enlightened. Others say he was a shithead. For this, he is anointed.
The consecration is collaborative. This most dope trinity is that holy water that follows listerine. Lushly byzantine; in case of emergency, breaks philistines.
Sufjan does not fear death. He follows and leads the emir emeritus ... read more
Malaisily I blow my stinging nose and remember to forget any lingering hopes. I bend me my guitar strings over dumb, butted head and like those mountain goats, too, I chew. I do miss Jim Duggan.
Tender poems spoken over well-populated production yet absent is the poptimism of his early 2010's. Keeps me very warm during wintertime [I heard it on the news].
It's not just that it's poorly produced, nor that none of the emcees have enough personality to stand out from each other, nor that it meanders on long after it should. It's also just not very funny.
A surprise-drop mixtape from the homie Departure to headstone the year and precede Work of Artist I Love You — my early pick for a 2026 favorite — exceeds expectations. The degree to which Departure is improving is indicative. Keep your eyes out & ears peeled.
Anders Holm-intrusions aside, the Kenny Dennis LP offers some of the most engaging forays into the titular character thus far, surpassed perhaps only by the illest cuts off Dennehy.