(2nd round match-up 4 of 9)
Brain not working, detached from white quartz altar of
Virginia plus missing the end of redbud blossoms, which has depleted my powers.
Barely able to make coherent sentences without any extra flourish (human tongue
redbud blossoms)… slowly starting to think like program. Heart feeling copperizated
along one ventricle’s edge. Cyberton software trying to take hold…
Big Boi – Sir Lucius Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty
(released July 6, 2010; #4 on 2010 Pitchfork Albums of the
Year list)
From Pitchfork initial reviewing:
Big Boi has every right to indulge in the bitter-old-man invective that's tempted so many other rappers of his generation. Even though he's half of one of the most successful groups ever, Big Boi has had to go through years of release-date delays and label drama (some of the topical lyrics here sound like they were written years ago), until he finally left longtime home Jive just so he could release a damn solo album already. Label machinations kept André's voice from even appearing on Sir Lucious Left Foot
Yes, Big Boi sound like aging man at cookout wearing gold
knock-off Gucci frames, trying to show the young’uns them old dances. Also he
sounds like the one who sits at Spades table and laughs and laughs and makes
the 4-year-old do the nae-nae 19 times in a row. Still though, Raven dirtgod
aging man too, also from south, so electronic kudzu strip club sounds make
partial sense to me. Staccato rap style also reminiscent of construction site
shit talk, which combines crows cawing and bad Spanish and shit talk lots of
shit talk because life is shit so let’s talk. Also Raven dirtgod think No D.J.
song with Yelawolf white trash robot machine one of best cybertron copper high
hat songs. Album great, but old, flirting with irrelevance, but
unapologetically like “fuck y’all young’uns” right before begging for blunt hit
from said young’uns. FOUR STARS (****)!
Rick Ross – Teflon Don
(released July 20, 2010; #38 on 2010 Pitchfork Albums of the
Year list)
From originoo PF review:
Ross' greatest gift is the ability to conjure a fully-formed Planet Boss, a refuge from the dwindling fortunes of gansta rap and the general economic downturn, where rappers can and do film videos with as many speedboats as possible.
Yes, Rick Ross good at pretend world, and perhaps now rich
because like all self-help gurus (false gurus) will tell you SAY IT TO MIRROR
UNTIL IT REAL SAY IT UNTIL REAL MANIFEST CRUSH IT DESTINY OWN YOUR BANK ACCOUNT
WORLD! (That’ll be $79.99 for the seminar; here’s an email of the ppt by the
way.) Even in fringe copperization of dirtgod into rustgod, Rick Ross
irrelevant trash sound. He win first round because some rap music trash and
when trash battle trash, trash wins. (Lesson of human civilization there,
brvh.) But when compared to music not pure trash (if even not perfect) then
waste of time. Rick Ross rhyme same word with itself too many times to not be
trash. He rhyme JFK with JFK then rhyme them both with JFK. Maybe he still
rhyming it all with JFK. Maybe Rick Ross fat zen master, but then again he not
even fat no more. Wonder what his “got all my torso tatted at once” look like
now? Almost feel bad for Rick Ross. He rap equivalent of Jenna Jameson. Sad
late capitalism. TWO STARS (**) due to sympathy melting back rust to edges of
dirtgod heart.
DJ Quik – Book of David
(released April 19, 2011; #29 on 2011 Pitchfork Albums of
the Year list)
From original Pitchfork review:
A rich stew of warm disco, grown-and-sexy R&B, and classic g-funk, it sounds engineered to waft out over barbecues. But it's also riddled with idiosyncrasies: songs that dissolve into deep-dub fade-outs, vocal samples that pop up in unexpected places, astonishing statements of raw heartbreak and anger. It's as weird as it is crowd-pleasing, and it underlines what BlaQKout suggested: Unencumbered by commercial expectations, Quik is making some of the most inventive music of his career.
Is it copper in my blood ruining digestive tract and
poisoning ancient gut flora that make me agree? Because I do. Yes, also aging
man music like Big Boi, also for cookout for old fake Gucci frame uncle to act
a fool to. But more influenced by palm background than kudzu, and get
high-worthy. Plus Quik a trip on the mic, always say something weird and you
go, “lolol his brain must be wild place” and it likely is. May DJ Quik make
music forever, inshallah. FOUR STARS (****).
THE WINNER: Purposely make both Big Boi and DJ Quik four
stars to appear as draw to make additional point that both are similar. Key
difference is Big Boi hobbled by capitalism, not even have best friend from
childhood get to appear on album, because devils gonna devil, regardless of our
heart’s intent. Devils poisoning your and mine hearts with copper right now,
through your fingertips while you read this. (Sorry.) We being made malleable
for softness, no real purpose to the softness either, devils just like softness
all around. Devils stupid like that. Meanwhile DJ Quik more crazy album, very
much like “fuck record companies” at parts, and dirtgod read story of DJ Quik
making album he thought was so bad once that he destroyed the masters. That’s
depth of music-making most music-makers never reach. DJ Quik answer to higher
power of high music, thus Quik’s Book of David wins. (Now to counter robot
effects of my mind with overripe bananas.)
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