| Busdriver will no doubt annoy a lot of people with his torrent of syllables, self-effacing stream of consciousness poetics (think Aesop Rock with a dash of Twista) and alternative hip-hop agenda. He knows this, and does it anyway. Such defiant integrity is to be commended, but it's a tough life being your own man in the rap game these days, and the pressure's been getting to him. Busdriver will be the first to pre-empt your criticisms of his quirky stylistics with lines like "I'm not dope / I'm not fresh / Ideas are overshot and undersung," and wallows in his lack of success throughout this album, noting that "the culture's been raped," and that "In recent polls the black rapper's viewed as a voyeuristic dunce / Who doesn't care about the b-boyer's intrinsic hunch." It's all very eloquent and insightful, and production from pals Daedelus, Omid, Thavius Beck and Paris Zax (along with a turn from the ubiquitous Danger Mouse) ensures that this will more than satiate the committed "hipsters who dress like Russian spies" that Busdriver has noticed tend to populate his audience. But if he follows this route of pouring acidic scorn over both his own endeavours and everyone else's, Busdriver will only continue to isolate the potential fans that could help him cash his skills into that mansion in the Hamptons. "Why did I choose to do weird shit?" he wonders, directing his caustic wit right between his own eyes. Is he just an "early 90's anachronism," or is there more to him than a spiralling post-ironic solipsism? Tune in next time, folks, when we check the upper deck. - Undercover |
1XLP/Out Of Print