2 Live Krew Meets Prince and acne giveaway mashup professionalism. So skilled, so many hours in the studio as evidenced by the editing, the granular samples, time fucking, progress checking of the recorded words with skips, repeats, flags that no, that was a sample, that- what you thought for the first second was just a live flow. Deep bass, alternation between a sparse use of sounds that are small and good for echoing in the imaginary spaces inside effects boxes and deluges of rhythm samples. Exciting party music, wanky electronics.
Records this good function to obviate the purpose of the music critic entirely. When there is nothing to embellish or sweeten with undeserved praise, when there is no rapture not simply standing free and unafraid in the world and available to any rhythmically infatuated listening audience, what remains for the critic to do? Sometimes things are good, and then they speak for themselves.
Any fool can look on the grandest temples built by the hand of man and proclaim “they are there,” but whom does this benefit? The temples are unperturbed and the time it took to speak those words to the world at large distracted new eyes from their own baptism in awareness.
I am listening to this great fucking record. There’s nothing else I can tell you.