| A masterpiece, fladdout. A whole album full of sweet disarray as a hip-hop record. This thing colors so far outside the lines that the kindergarten schoolmarm starts wailing and you're not in 2D anymore. Boom Bip weaves beat and ambient textures out of just about anything and Doseone flows bugs bunny inflected over and beyond into drop outs filled with syncopated lyrical spew sprints functioning as Captain Beefy going on about cherry phosphates. Both the sound and the lyrics are surreal yet transparent, demonstrating the rare hip-hop quality of being completely oblivious of the need to be anything other tan itself. It's the range of what they are that's so amazing. A Dj Shadow-flavored jackhammer kick drum gets overlaid with a snarling rainbow viper guitar and human vox approximating vocode precision. Voices jabber in different headphones cinema-o'-the-ear style, turning the clock back to childhood. You beneath your backwoods dad's lecture, in the cradle, old phones ringing; battle rolling snares underpinning casual spiraling yet purposefully swooping emcee flow. Beats drop out as much as in, and Doseone transforms to dream diary spoken-word chant poet on a dime. Layers of conscious and subconscious thoughts flirt with the periphery and occasionally push one of themselves forward, but none of this closes in or disorients. It all smacks of the organic sensory nature of life itself, earthy and cyclical; chirpy outdoor birdsongs and all. The first few listens may leave you dizzy, 'cuz neither Boom Bip nor Doseone are afraid to go in over their heads or yours to make a point. Repeated listens reveal chaos theory and fractal interpolations deep into the head of a true poet, one who knows exactly where he is. The kind of novel to read over and over. - Your Flesh |
2XLP/Out Of Print