Zelooperz – Coon ‘N the Room (2011) [Self-Released] // Grade: B+

First dude to randomly hit me up on twitter and impress me. I played the first song ont he album not knowing what to expect at all, and heard a dude that was kinda like Childish Gambino, then it hits the 50 second mark and dude’s true self comes out. Coon ‘N the Room is testament album. It’s “don’t look back raps”. This is what it sounds like when a young man in America intertwines his life with his music, and goes for broke. I dont’ know Zelooperz too well, but given the sound of his music I’d guess he’s a somewhat frustrated dude. It’s not a difficult feat in 2012 as a young man. The previous generation had a path that isn’t available to us, but we’re expected to outperform them. We’re expected to live lives filled with leaping bounds, but we all got prescribed cement shoes. So, instead of soaring through the clouds of American personal achievement a dude like Zelooperz gives us Coon ‘N the Room: 17 tracks of cement shoes kickin’ holes in the walls and smashin’ wack rappers’ faces to smithereens.

For a dude this young (he’s 18) what would you expect of him if he were, say working at a Best Buy? Would you expect him to be working on the floor? In the stockroom? At a register? Managing a department? Working with the geek squad? Based on what I heard on here dude is much more like regional management. The homie Catf1sh likened him to Big Sean. I can hear that. There is a similarity to the intonation, and the syncopations of Ze’s flow and Big Sean’s. But Big Sean is more like a commercial for a Maybach that you’re supposed to watch in awe (not happening), while Zelooperz is a dude whippin’ a C43 AMG and inviting you along for the ride. The thing they have in common is the thing that Ze does way better than Sean. Without trying, duh. He’s a natural.

Say you had a chef who made amazing Indo-Mexican fusion food. And that chef had an Indian dad, and a Mexican mom it would be pretty obvious where the inspiration for the crazy fusion food came from. But, with rap the constellation of influencers is still too diffused to even begin to see it. So, for a dude like Zelooperz who is very obviously blessed with a gift for rapping, where do you look to understand it? I don’t know. I’d like to think that one day I’ll have a better explanation for this stuff, but for now the explanation is all in the music. I’d suggest you take the time to really listen to what dude is saying, and try to figure out why he’s saying as well as what he’s telling us. It’s very obvious that the mind behind this stuff is both complex and observant. And so it’s no surprise that the music that comes out is both nuanced and forceful. Zelooperz understands how to flip back and forth between styles and not only paint a picture, but fill the room with movement. Keep a very, very close eye on this dude because he has everything he needs to do everything he wants, and he’s very very driven.

Hey buddy. It’s been awhile. No, no; don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault, really. Maybe it was sort of your fault. But don’t worry, it’s time again for another of Elbows’ Weekly Debriefs. Up top is a video of Champis, the hearding rabbit. Let’s get into it.

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Everybody Hates Ricky

The big news on the political front this week was that Mitt Romney took home the Nevada caucuses. The not big news was that Rick Santorum came in last.

I’ll tell you, this guy is a superb campaigner. At a stop in Florida, a gay audience member posed the question as to why homosexuals don’t have equal marriage rights. Santorum went ahead and informed everybody that same sex relationships don’t “benefit society.” To which everyone responded that Santorum doesn’t benefit society.

He went on to support Susuan G. Komen’s decision to cut funding to Planned Parenthood, saying, “I don’t believe breast cancer research is advanced by funding an organization that does abortions where you’ve seen ties to cancer.” To which everyone again chimed in to inform him that there is absolutely no link between cancer and abortions.

Regarding Santorum’s comments, Newt Gingrich said, “Hey. All I know is that Ricky’s got a spot on my moon base.”

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Heart Attacks

Paula Dean was made CEO of Jack In The Box this week. There was no official word, of course, other than the debut of Jack’s new Bacon Shake, a bacon flavored shake. This one’s got “Paula Dean” smeared all over it.

One Jack In The Box customer, who after he finished hurling his Bacon Shake at the concrete and spitting out what was his first sip of the drink, described the drink as “aggressively” bad. Sounds good.

Unfortunately, there isn’t any actual bacon in the Bacon Shake. It’s flavored with syrup. Bacon syrup. That sounds like a great product in itself. Technically the drink is vegetarian, a fact which will likely alienate many bacon enthusiasts.

Honestly, I’ve had bacon ice cream before and it’s great. And despite this being just a cup filled with Paula Dean’s bacon-y bath water in a cup, give it a chance. It’s probably great.

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There. So we’re back. It’s nice, isn’t it? Tune in next week when we speak to the architect behind Gingrich’s moon base, and learn about Emeril Lagasse’s new crawfish-flavored sports drink. I’m Elbows, you’re not. Yogurt.

This 3 For 10 roundup comes from a non existant magical mixtape boutique. A New Age store where the clerks provide you with mixtapes based purely on emotion. It would be some wild conceptual shit, like holistic healing with crystals, but the crystals are mixtapes about cocaine distribution.

If you’re looking to feel cold and emotionless in your core we have a nice joint from Fred The Godson to numb you to the chaos of life. If you want to escape the problems of the world and relax into a world of absurd possibility we’ve got Riff Raff chopped up. Maybe you desire to elevate your spirit to a plane of lush warmth relaxation, for that we’ve got a new instrumental joint from Dirtybird B. All of that spiritual therapy for the price of free ninety nine and some karmic retribution. Who wants to go half on a pop-up shop? The New York Times will definitely cover this shit.

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Fred The Godson – City of God (2011) [Gangsta Grillz] // Grade: C+

If you’re the type of cat that’s wild concerned with bringing New York rap back in its 1995 incarnation you’re probably more than familiar with Fred The Godson. You also probably don’t read this blog and have spent most of this global warming induced mild summer lamenting how you haven’t had a chance to wear your new Timbs. For the rest of the world, Fred may be a kind of a hard sell. Dude kinda sounds like Jim Jones, raps like Fabolous and looks like a giant infant with braids.

However, his recent City Of God tape with DJ Drama gives us a couple of reasons to check this dude, who might be a lost member of the Bebe’s Kids tribe. Dude comes through as a above average NY coke rapper once you cull out all the generic NY club tracks and shitty ballads. City of God gives us about 10 songs that feature Fred going in over some quality production that ranges from Lex Luger sound alikes to classic boom bap. On this tape dude sounds best over moody minimalist cocaine synth pieces. “Doves” with Pusha T features dudes rapping surprisingly about cocaine, but the combination of the cold track and Fred’s detached delivery sounds entirely on point for the remorseless dealer character he cultivates.

“How You Don’t Know Me” brings back Giorgio Moroder circa Scarface synths while Fred talks a bunch of shit. The best parts of this tape sound like a concept album about Nino Brown thinking about his life right before that old dude shot him in New Jack City. If Fred made that album he could easily carve out a lane for himself in the sea of Nautica and Northface rappers.

Download Fred The Godson’s City of God (Click Here)

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Riff Raff – Rap Game Larry Bird (2012) [SODMG] // Grade: B-

Sometimes screwing music works because you get a chance to really hear the intricacies of the song or pickup lyrics that you might’ve normally missed. In those instances the screw allows you to dissect the soundscape and let it wash over you. This is not one of those times. Rap Game Larry Bird is not an album that’s exceptionally deep in any way, the music is generally pretty sparse and the lyrics are absurdist rants from a dude who calls himself  “the white Gucci Mane.”

While Riff Raff has a way to go before he reaches Gucci’s level of insanity, his brand of simple rhyming and bizarre boasts “I done shook dice with Larry Bird in Barcelona” are exactly the type of rap that sounds amazing chopped up into a hypnotic mix. While Riff Raff may never get a XXL rating on anything he ever releases this album is leading the race in “best album to get high to and play Mario Kart for 5 hours” award.

Download Riff Raff’s Rap Game Larry Bird (Click Here)

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Dirtybird B – Hard Work In Paradise (2012) [Moon Is Half Records] // Grade: B-

Instrumental hip hop feels like it should come entirely from California. Dudes out there have giant beach,es beautiful weather, great tacos and women with tans all year long, so it makes sense when they make albums that sounds like low level psychedelic dreams. That’s the reality of California living if I’m to believe the various documentaries of the state I’ve seen (Friday, Saved By The Bell, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and The OC).

It comes as no surprise then, that the new album from producer Dirtybird B is the sort of chilled out head nodding experience that you could imagine yourself listening to on your first night at a beach bonfire after moving to LA from Brooklyn. Headphones turned up, relaxing in a light jacket in March, thinking about the possibilities of a new city while thinking “fuck winter.”  Hard Work In Paradise is very reminiscent of the more chilled out Prefuse 73 productions or even a more rare joint like the first Dosh album. Really chill compositions that allow your mind to wander and go to beautiful places.

Download Dirtybird B’s Hard Word In Paradise (Click Here)

Trailer Trash Tracys – Ester (2012) [Domino] // Grade: C+

Matt Carlson – Particle Language (2012) [Draft] // Grade: B+

Particle Language is like an exercise in controlled chaos. Matt Carlson’s solo work isn’t meant for a club or a party or even laid-back listening; it’s ripped from the physics of outer space, all fractal beats and theorems. Laser-pointed noises skitter and fragment, melodies blast off then promptly disappear, the center of the album clashes against itself like trillions of particles colliding. If you like what Carlson’s done with Golden Retriever and Parenthetical Girls, well…you might like this. But it’s a harsh remove from either project.

And that remove has everything to do with intention. Like the Stereo Face and Gecko Dream Levels cassettes before it, Particle Language feels concentrated primarily on the properties of sound, rather than the emotional response those sounds elicit. Think of it as an unending what would happen if; traces of the late, great Conrad Schnitzler bubble to the surface here, combined with the modern freneticism of early Oneohtrix Point Never and modular drive of Delia Derbyshire and Daphne Oram, all of it crashing around like a series of volatile experiments. The bone-ratting pod of noise rankles the senses in the best possible way: Even if emotional response isn’t at the fore — in the normal sense of the concept, I guess, like “this makes me want to get laid” or “now I feel like dancing” — the album still manages to touch every nerve. It feels psychotic and cerebral, processed and synthesized, this weird scientific vibe that shoots you beyond the atmosphere, to some otherworld outside our notions of space or time. It’s not so ideal for a casual listen, but give it the time it requires and Particle Language reveals itself as a fantastic pile of chaos, culled into submission the way only Matt Carlson can do.

Prinzhorn Dance School – Clay Class (2012) [DFA] // Grade: A-

Post-punk is the modern folk music of England.  Much like hip hop to the United States, post-punk is built of elements that chart the evolution of a people. Heavy drum and bass patterns borrowed from Jamaican immigration, but stiffened up a bit to express a working class angst. Sharp, angular guitar stabs that seem to mimic machinery and the monotony of factory life. Sadly, this indigenous music has never been given a chance to fully flourish.  Surely its influence is felt in the music of most British bands, from The Stone Roses to the Streets and all the way to Coldplay; but its importance has never been fully recognized. It kind of always sat somewhere between new wave and oi as punk rock’s misunderstood, ugly cousin.

Prinzhorn Dance School change all that. Their sophomore album Clay Class consists of wondrous post-punk. It is a music of manners, and that becomes obvious when Tobin Prinz opens his mouth. With a voice not unlike Colin Newman (of Wire) Prinz spouts poetry as agitprop. Random stabs of imagery just and sharp and angular as the accompanying guitar. Occasionally band mate Suzi Horn will provide disharmony as she beats upon her drum with a tribal insistence very reminiscent of the Slits. It all makes perfect sense. This isn’t tribute or mimicry, it is very pure. Thirty years later, the sounds of this influential movement are no longer nostalgic kitsch, they are an integral part of our musical map.

Clay Class is a bit more understated than the band’s 2007 debut and also a lot more structured. That is what makes it work. It is a common misconception about post punk, but one listen to a group like Gang of Four or the Fall and the listener can hear a tremendous amount of care and detail in the arrangement.  Prinzhorn Dance School haven’t toned down, they have matured in their four year hiatus between albums, and it shows.  It is only February, but Clay Class sets the bar very high for the rest of the year.

At its worst, science fiction (or just speculative fiction) is a Hollywood CGI robot punch to the balls. At its best, it’s Black Mirror. Last weekend a friend of mine from the UK recommended Black Mirror to me and the next day, I sat through all three episodes of the miniseries while experiencing a revolving series of reactions: shock, nervous laughter, welling up, and cursing our society for the hubristic turds we are. Black Mirror also renewed a bit of my hope that clever, original sci-fi can be done on television again (albeit overseas) without taking the ideas and simply injecting giant action set pieces.

This three-part British series aired in December of last year and might hit BBC America if we’re ever so lucky. It was created by journalist and screenwriter Charlie Brooker – who I had never heard of before but my UK friend described as a bit like the British John Stewart. On the Wiki page for Black Mirror, Brooker explains the show better than I can, stating that “each episode has a different cast, a different setting, even a different reality. But they’re all about the way we live now – and the way we might be living in 10 minutes’ time if we’re clumsy.” He’s dead on. Each episode is a 45-60 minute sci-fi tragedy, with humans brought to their knees, betrayed by the technology we worship and misuse so much. Not in the “machines turn against their creators” way that’s played out and stale (all respect to BSG), but with gut-wrenching realism.

“The National Anthem:” Within the first couple minutes of the kick-off episode, I was squirming. We’ve seen how outlets such as YouTube and Twitter can turn the tides of public opinion and swiftly drive them in every direction. This episode takes that and drives it in a shocking direction. It paced like a political thriller, with the Prime Minister facing an unthinkable dilemma with only hours to make a decision. I will tell no more about this one, I’ll only say it doesn’t involve a meteor headed for Earth. it’s much, much worse. I hesitated to call Black Mirror “sci-fi” because this episode could take place today or tomorrow. The next two are more “hard” sci-fi.

“15 Million Merits”: I’ve never watched American Idol, but everyone I do know who has always says the same thing: I just watch the auditions, they’re hilarious. This episode centers around a version of Idol called Hot Shots, in which, like Idol, three fuckfaced judges build people up and tear them down like expendable entertainers. Everyone is restricted to a strict life of physical exercise and Wii-like activities. Taking part gains you credits, which can be used to buy food or, once you’ve saved 15 million, try out for Hot Shots. This one gets a little preachy towards the end, then recoups by showing how doomed our gimme-gimme society is.

“The Entire History of You:” This one hit me the hardest. It’s an emotional donkey punch that examines what our relationships would be like if everyone could record and play back every moment of their life – even project it onto TV screens to watch like any other show. This would be a fantastic technology for black-out drunks *tugs on collar*, but miserable for liars. Even those who tell little white lies. This episode was written by Jesse Armstrong, scribe of In the Loop and Four Lions.

If you’ve been hungry like I have for the next great sci-fi show after BSG, look no further than Black Mirror. Unfortunately, it’s only three episodes long and there are no plans to air in the U.S. (that I could find). But I looks like they’ve been uploaded to YouTube (ironic) and torrents are readily available as well. And if you’re wondering what the “black mirror” refers to, it’s that smartphone in your hand.

Ever since Taken, Liam Neeson’s career path has been the bullet train to action stardom. This year he’ll star in at least five action films, including Taken 2 (hooray!), the first being The Grey. Written and directed by Joe Carnahan (The A-Team), The Grey sees Neeson in a perfect action film for his abilities. It’s filled with real emotions and real stakes and if you know the tragedy that’s filled Neeson’s real life in the past few years, it’s all that much more powerful.

Neeson plays Ottway, a sad wolf-sniper working in Alaska at an oil rig. His job is to literally sit there and buck down wolves who threaten the rig and the men working on it. When we meet Ottway, he’s incredibly regretful and heart broken over his wife. Him and a bunch of the grizzly men who work on the rig are taking off for vacation when their plane crashes in the frozen wilderness, very far from civilization. Seven men, including Ottway survive, and decide to walk to rescue, but the blinding snow and tree lines hide a pack of blood-thirsty wolves. In real life, wolves wouldn’t stalk men like this, but if that ruins the movie for you, screw you.

Don’t let the trailer or TV spots goof you- there’s barely any man vs. wolf action. Most of the wolf attacks take place in violent flashes that are only glimpsed at by the audience. Thankfully, Carnahan makes the other survivors of the crew besides Neeson more than just fang fodder. He gives them all some time on screen and we get to know them fairly intimately. Because of this I actually cared every time the wolves snatched up someone and tore them apart. Sometimes it can feel over emotional, but it never teeters over the edge of excess sentimentality. I felt sympathy for every one of them, even the douchebag who’s constantly drinking airplane nips and arguing against everything Neeson suggests.

Neeson is scary perfect at Ottway. His old-man eyes drool sadness and heartache and you feel every bit of it as the journey goes on. I mentioned earlier about the tragedy in Neeson’s real life that is eerily echoed in the film. It’s an incredibly raw performance and it’s easy to believe that he used this film as a sort of therapy.

Yes, he does tape broken nip bottles to his fist and charge a wolf (an alpha male no less), but don’t let the marketing convince you that’s all there is in The Grey. The fantastic action sequences take the back seat to the heavy emotional punches thrown by Neeson. I also want to note that The Grey has one of the boldest, bravest endings I’ve seen in a while. That poem he recites does read like horrible hardcore lyrics, but I love it coming out of the lips of Neeson.

Grimes – Visions (2011) [4AD/Arbutus] // Grade: B+

Grimes’ visionary Claire Boucher may view Visions as her “real” debut, but there’s a lot to be said for the one-two punch of Geidi Primes and Halfaxa. Both established Boucher as a strange electro-pop force, this compelling new voice in a sometimes saturated genre. Both allowed her the conceptual room to stretch, to experience, to try. And both fundamentally paved the road for Visions; without those first two releases, the quirk and stream of consciousness of them, Boucher may not have centered herself so clearly this time around.

That’s not to say Visions is better than Geidi Primes or Halfaxa, or that the earlier releases weren’t worthy in the first place. It’s just a different record, a new dawn, a tighter and more conceptually honed piece of work from a woman who’s been extending herself since minute one. Think AGF meets Annie Lennox; the artfulness of Visions is in its balance of straight-up catchiness with out-there, space-bound ambience. Tracks like “Genesis” and “Visiting Statue” surge forward with an icy propulsion — Boucher’s layered, almost alien vocals put a frost on everything they touch — while “Eight” and “Symphonia IX” are the atmosphere that give the frost its shape. The shadow of a greyed winter sun.

Of course, there tends to be a trade-off when you pit cleanliness against broad experimentation. Boucher may have found her center on Visions, but there’s a certain scattershot energy you might find yourself missing, that creepy sense of movement that defined Halfaxa especially. But it’s a minor thing, a personal preference; Boucher very clearly made the exact record she wanted to make — her enthusiasm is obvious in every shuttling bassline, each foggy filter-sweep and bent, twinkling melody — and fortunately for us, it’s a record we want to hear as well.

Die Antwoord – Ten$ion (2012) [Zef] // Grade: C+

We don’t need to introduce Die Antwoord. Do we? Do I? We (the world at large) have talked about them a lot way back when (last year). We (Ray) have reviewed their first album. We (the male kind) know the exact length (in centimeters) to every single bit of hair on Yo-Landi’s body. We all know they’re not SERIOUSLY doing this stuff. We all know how SERIOUS they are at doing it.

Which is why they had to make a second album. It starts with a bass production that would be fine in itself if it wasn’t altogether ruined by Ninja’s nasal mannerisms and egotisms. Then there’s “I Fink You’re Freeky” bringing a great 90′s UK rave vibe which is instantly crushed by the effects on Yo-Landi’s voice rendering her completely out of pitch and unlistenable. Yes, everything you love to hate was included in Ten$ion. And everything you hate to love is there, too. So I pause. The production value is actually pretty high, no lie. Each and every beat sounds oddly current and oddly out of date, which is what most current (successful) beats sound like anyway. This album is clearly more referential in its influences and less referential in its pastiche. There’s dubstep wobbly bass kicks, big beat and eurodance synths, minimal funky hip-hop… Anything anyone is look for in contemporary music figures in one way or another on the record. It is stylistically not too far off $O$ but it sounds like DJ Hi-Teck took a page off Diplo’s book of making existing things better somehow.

I know, I know. The only reason you may be even remotely interested in this album is because you’re a dork. So let’s dork it out: Die Antwoord owe their existence (not just their fame) to the internet. They are an ode to modernity. Ten$ion is therefore very successful at providing a content that is self
-serving: a diverse medium fed by a diversity of media. This album goes much further than the appropriation of cultural codes and the mockery of white guilt that riddled the previous album. From buffoonery, they have graduated to a true digested version of popular art forms, emphasizing their cheesiness without overplaying it and keeping their relevance without taking it too seriously. But… how much of it sticks? After all, they did not conquer the internet with political discourse or Tsotsitaal samples, but with looking ass neighbors and infectious analogic life lessons. I live in Baton Rouge. This city built a rap scene with the exact same ingredients, look where that got us.

So in a way, I understand that Die Antwoord are trying to distance themselves from whole shantytown shtick that made them famous. I guess this is where the “Fok Julle Naiers” and now “I Find U Freeky” videos were getting at. Ninja and Yo-Landi are staying underground as fuck weirdos. We can all appreciate her awkward sexualized ways and his grandpa version of street reality, and that is clearly what the focus is on – it is especially apparent in the skits. Everything else is more of the same. Die Antwoord’s answer to the people’s need for exotic entertainment.

Their doubly deleterious egotrips just layers of delicious jelly on top of their carefully constructed characters of cultural contraptions. But… how much of it sticks? As the by-product of multicultural living accelerated by new media, they are just the South African flavor of an art form that has already enjoyed a fair amount of deconstruction; too much of their idiosyncrasies are just lost on many in the western hemisphere to really set them apart conceptually. And that’s it. Judging from the underwhelming response (at time of writing anyway) to this album’s release, I would have to assume that a lot of people liked them better when they were the happy-go-lucky street urchins. Amidst all the feedback they received, I think DA did not fully realize that a lot of people like them because they were dancing monkeys in pajamas with funny accents. The jokers were, for that moment, the butt of the joke to their listeners – a Human Centipede of a joke.

Which leaves us with an album that has a serious message, a gangsta (gangster?) attitude and a dancefloor vibe. It’s kwaito 2.0. It’s not bad, and it’s not quite a sophomore slump – it’s just no longer exciting and new and if you don’t understand Afrikaans and have no vested interest in the lives of Yo-Landi and Ninja outside of Die Antwoord, their juggling number falls flat. Die Antwoord are now officially representatives of a regional rap scene where the region is the internet. There’s the people who “get it” (and those who think they do) – they will thoroughly enjoy the lavish surface. The rest of us will be lucky to get some good remixes out of it.