Even though I really enjoyed Night Rippers, I was fully prepared to hate on the new Girl Talk album for irrational reasons that I won’t get into. And when I first downloaded it, for free, becauseI deemed myself part of the press, radio, or music industry, I did indeed hate on it. Last week over a casual pint of that gaseous, filthy-cheap Café Crêpe lager, I said to a friend:
“Ah…its more of the same shite, it’s ok, but nothing new, wholly derivative hipster nonsense, fucking typically mediocre shite, not bad, but you know, shite, I’m just listening to it because I’m biding my time waiting for a trip-hop renaissance.”
But then, much like a fungus, it grew on me. And the more I listen to Feed The Animals, the more it starts to feel less like a collection of successive money-shot pop crescendos and more like a pornographic trap-pop symphony.
Years ago, possibly even decades, there existed a loosely defined genre of music that was marketed under the blanket term “Trip-Hop”, which encapsulated a sound notorious for its lo-fi extrapolation of dark, ambiguous jazz samples and tight sets of compressed drum beats. Trip-Hop was short lived and strictly Trans-Atlantic, with the majority of artists coming from NYC, Bristol and London. The architects of the sound were mostly downtempo outfits like Massive Attack and Portishead, but American stand-outs like the afro-futurist acid-rap duo Dr. Octagon (Kool Keith & Dan The Automator) also made a definitive contribution.
After a decade-long hiatus, Portishead released their aptly titled “Third” album back in April to an elated, critically-lauded reception. A trip-hop revival is still a distant reality, but if your memories of a bygone era of pre-apocalyptic mushroom-chomping heroics are still in tact, flush the coke-disco down the toilet and vibe out to these paranoid rec-room bangers.
Dr.Octagon:3000 Portishead:Machinegun Dr.Octagon: Blue Flowers Revisited Portishead: We Carry On
April 12, 2008, 7:16 pm
Filed under: music | Tags: cocaine
This track perfectly expresses the cold, calculative evil of the ultra-capitalist mind set. Boost your system, put it on repeat, hit the punching bag with a vengeance and take pleasure in imagining multiplying money stacks and the demise of all your enemies.
The RZA has let loose a couple joints off the upcoming Bobby Digital “Digi-Snax” album. While the production and lyricism on the new tracks are undeniably hype, I’m unconvinced that the RZA’s alter-ego is still relevant in 2008. Bobby Digital made his debut a decade ago, when people were listening to the likes of Puff Daddy and Will Smith - the dark ages of modern hip-hop - when any attempt to freshen the aesthetics of the genre was more than welcome.
Thousands, if not millions of people throughout the world believe in this idea called “progress” - a term usually associated with socialism, but has recently been receiving increased media exposure in North America due to a certain presidential candidate. Much like Obama is the figurehead for a new decade of positivity, so it is with the internet, which some people fawn over as if it was the second coming of Christ himself. Only this time he isn’t a Jew, he’s Korean, and he’s holding a huge plate of neon-fried chicken wings for you to gorge yourself upon.
But what about mixtapes? Weren’t they actually totally fucking rad? Are we better off with the mixtape’s modern equivalent - the MP3 blog? While MP3s are cool and everything, and blogs are like, whatever, I can’t help getting nostalgic for the early to mid ‘90s any chance I get. Shawn Kemp, malt liquor, Pearl Jam, Hawa’iin hotboxing your mom’s minivan – the ‘90s were filled with dope shit that has evaporated into the annals of history all too quickly. Remember Pluto? It’s not even a planet anymore, it’s become the cosmic equivalent of a disgraced pro-athlete, sent down to the minors to dwell in obscurity for-ever.
When I was living in Tokyo this track was a mega-hit of near pornographic proportions and you could not even hope to escape its presence. At the height of its popularity, “Joy” was playing non-stop on every radio in the city, it didn’t matter if you were in the emergency ward or at a strip club, Yuki would be dancing around in your brain, sprinkling the spider-eggs of her insanity throughout your psyche. Naturally, as I became increasingly indoctrinated by this repetitive stimulation, I was inspired to buy a mp3 player so that I would be able to listen to the song whenever I felt the urge.
I don’t know, I guess after awhile I needed “Joy” to feel normal. Like a well deserved after-work pint or that tasty Saturday morning Percocet milkshake, the song gradually became one of life’s little perks that makes it all worth it. Then one day my batteries went dead and it took me almost a whole week to realize the song’s absence. It didn’t make much of a difference though, as Yuki’s turbo-cute nonsense had replaced the sound of silence and left me a happy, happy man. When I take the time to reflect on my experiences with Yuki, who oddly enough is backed by Japanese pharmaceutical giant Daichi Sankyo, it makes me realize that the void created by religion’s demise is best filled by pop-culture icons that make you feel good for no reason.
Crystal Castles:Courtship Dating
This so-called “hipster banger” is having a similar effect on a lot of people right now but I still can’t shake the medusa gaze of Yuki’s hypnotic and often nauseating falsetto.
