The perfect circumstance for IVRY to glide seamlessly into your ears is underneath a glistening disco ball, drenched fully in lit dry ice, while emerging from a crushed velvet sofa from the back of a club. You’re likely bathed in different types of silk and or cashmere garments. Perhaps a satin turtleneck. Certainly some gator skin. An uncomfortably large rope gold chain rests steadily on your breast. Everyone else in the club was unaware of your presence, secluded in the plumes of dry ice exhaust, that linger on you momentarily as you effortlessly float to the dance floor. It’s undetermined if they are more mystified by your presence, that they are now aware of, or the existence of a crushed velvet sofa. Either way it is beyond crucial.
The smoothness of IVRY is unrivaled. It’s a glass of 25 year Macallan. A perfectly vintaged saison. Its the slow motion cascading Carmel in the twix commercials. A chinchilla that took a dust bath in cotton candy threads. The consistency of T1000 from Terminator 2 when it interacts with fire. It has notes of a house party in the mid to late 90’s where everyone has achieved a perfect buzz and has abandoned any self awareness. Lending themselves wholly to the joy of the music and the accompanying bad dance moves. Harmony.Flow.Delivery. Drop the top and enjoy.
Artist: Trinidad James
Album: 10pc. Mild
Song: Hip$ter $trip Club
It’s impossible to say how long you’ve been here…the absence of a clock, indistinguishable pulsation, and overwhelming amount of sweat pants contribute to the disorientation and vacancy. This isn’t a celebratory strip club run, it’s not in Las Vegas, in fact it’s quite the opposite. This is not a tit ride.
There exists a fascinating dichotomy in strip club clientele, a harmless communal celebration versus the depravity of a solitary sober viewing. Hip$ter $trip Club illustrates the latter in great detail. Trinidad James executes this feeling flawlessly. The smoky, viscous sample coupled with intelligently desperate rhymes and chorus cast the listener deep into the moist shag carpets, the overflowing ash trays, and twelve dollar well drinks.
Staring deep into the rippling drink there exists a moment of clarity, beneath the surface of disintegrating ice cubes. (Hip$ter $trip Club is playing) None of the faces here should look familiar…the gravity of responsibilities outside this existence initiates a descent back to reality… the feeling routinely passes as you settle into the warmth provided by the drink and prepare for your favorite song in the DJ’s tired set list.
Artist: Corner Boy P
Album: Red Eye Mixtape
Song: Winners Never Lose
The first chords emulate the rise or descent in an elevator; it’s undetermined which at this point. The dim, imprecise and strangely welcoming beat envelopes like the feeling of waking up and discovering it’s Saturday, after indulging in an uninterrupted, lengthy night’s slumber. As this warm sound yawns on Corner Boy P’s gentle voice triggers, intricate verses drizzled in every nook and cranny of the beat. The lyrics ripe with both optimism and distrust. The confidence is infectious.
The elevator is rising.
Artist: Deniro Farrar
Album: Patriarch 2
Patriarch II isn’t an mixtape. It is a devastatingly earnest memoir accompanied by immense and varied production. Aforementioned production from (KIRA, Ryan Alexy, Ryan Hemsworth and many others) serve as the perfect receptacle for Deniro’s rasping twang….the evocative landscape for some truly poignant and beautiful narration.
This album is the antithesis of the Yeezus. It doesn’t attempt to be anything. It’s not polarizing or alien. It’s exceptionally human, and therein rests the fascination. Specifically relatable is irrelevant. Every song is abundant with fluctuating and contrasting emotions. More contemplative than any of his previous albums it’s clear that Deniro is morphing into a hybrid rapper…equal parts malice and thoughtfulness. This type of music sits proudly outside the realm of genres, it is itself and that’s it.
Never has there been such a concentrated intro to an album. Listen to the stunning variation between the two songs.
GIVE ME BARABBAS over Yeezus.
Clumsy, disorienting, lumbering. Yeezus isn’t a trail of palm leafs announcing a triumphant return, but rather the path to Kanye’s complete and utter spiral into triviality. Some of the production on the album is tolerable and redeemable, the rapping on the other hand is an eruption of tediousness.
“I just talked to Jesus, he said whaddup Yeezus” is an actual verse on the album…nuff said. In I Am God Kanye asserts “I am a god, hurry up with my damn massage” if this is the case he’s clearly a god that’s both deaf and judging by the banal rhyming just proudly graduated from the 2nd grade. He cleverly rhymes God with God.
Kanye doesn’t really qualify as a human anymore. He’s morphed into something far more annoying. He’s that cloud of sulfur gas that someone crop dusts a train car with before leaving. That Trojan Virus you got while trying to leach the Teen Mom 2 porn. A Bar Louie. A pair of fivefinger vibrams. That piss soaked toilet paper that your forced to wipe with in the port-a-potty after a regrettable but unavoidable Lollapalooza dump.
I’m officially starting the rumor that Rob Kardashian ghost wrote this entire album. I’d like to thank Kanye for hissing a bunch of steaming hot zoo breath into my ear for the past 50 minutes. I would imagine I Am God is what Nick Cage was listening to during the bee scene of Wicker Man to achieve the below facial contortion and display of annoyance.
Artist: Gucci Mane
Song: Like I Used 2
Album: Trap Back 2
This song should be the theme song for Cialis. Gucci Mane is perpetually turnt up. He is larger than life both figuratively and literally. This song is somehow different though…its comical yes, but also embodies what appears to be a hint of remorse or some type of repressed sadness.
Though Gucci’s way of expressing the complex emotions associated with a waning and rapidly fading relationship are downright hilarious. If you listen to the chorus both the lyrics and tone embody an undeniable sadness Gucci was feeling for that fleeting moment, it likely passed immediately after the song was recorded and Gucci resumed guzzling lean and getting blunted into numbness.
Album: 5th String Walk On
Artist: Masin Dixin
Like Haley’s Comet this mixtape surfaced mysteriously on Datpiff a few weeks ago and then vanished like a bubble guts induced fart in the wind. It left behind a rather memorable odor however, and a lot more palatable then a room clearer. Hopefully your quest to download proves more fruitful than mine, I attempted to find a sans Trojan download link but was unsuccessful.
This is what is blaring on the speakers in Scrooge McDuck’s mansion as the sick deviant feverishly flounders around in his pool of coins. It is likely what was playing when 12 year old Preston writes himself a check for 1,000,000 dollars in Blank Check. It’s what Richy Rich’s parents were listening when the plane went down, likely nearing pass out drunk from Dom P.
Masin Dixin absolutely, unconditionally loves money, he cherishes it above all else. For instance the line “Money make me horny, wake up with a boner, tell the bitch never mind put that money on me” The song’s larger than life beat (that reminds me of a 2006 Lil Scrappy or E40) and the lyrics have plenty of great excessively hoarding/spending money punch lines. Nothing too clever about it just a good ole fashion song about someone putting the acquisition of wealth above all else.
Artist: Wyclef Jean
Album: April Showers
You’d think that after the charity debacle and countless years releasing shit music Wyclef had finally taken his rightful place on top of the throne of complete and utter irrelevance, sunken into a swathed obscurity…until now. I suspiciously saw the Wyclef mixtape rear its ugly head on datpiff and was curious enough to be lured in. Nothing has been more covered in shite since the Chicago Architecture
Tour got enveloped by a load of assorted Coors lite ridden filth and excrement after the Dave Matthews Band Tour Bus driver accidentally “dropped the load” on the unknowing boat tourists. (true story Google it)
Like rotten ground beef crammed into a sausage skin Wyclef loads 36…count em’…36 songs onto April Showers, and not a single one is listenable. For instance in the Bugatti Freestyle Wyclef has rhymes like “Talk Italian to them haters…arrivederci see you later” and “they doing a song, do I want to spit son? Hell yeah! Caribbean connection!” I wonder how many people’s time was wasted making this album; I can’t imagine being the producer and having to feign excitement every day… “Wyclef you are genius! That rhyme with son and Caribbean Connection is pure gold baby!”
There is absolutely no way he listens to this and enjoys it, much like I believe there is no way John Voit watches Superbaby Geniuses 2 and enjoys seeing himself play the nefarious evil villain Bill Biscane for a quick paycheck.
Title: Corpse Pose
Artist: Celestial Trax
Album: INNER GODS, FALSE ICONS
Name your price download: http://celestialtrax.bandcamp.com/
This song has been haunting my dreams in the most magnificent of ways. It’s catchy and there isn’t a lyric. It seems like it could transform the most harmless idea or object into something apparational, uncanny and abnormal. It reminds me of this piercing noise my roomates outdated likely porn infested PC would make as it gasped and clawed at life. It was called the e-Machine and when turned on would unleash this painful noise, a groaning that sounded like a 3 year old verbalizing the letter E and holding it for 1 eternity.
This song will swallow you, it will embrace and eventually consume. It’s somehow pretty gangster even though there are no bars to be found. The whole album is great but I had to do a feature on this one song.
It’s my beliefe that this is what the man below was listening to when he peered into and forced his way into your soul in the video below:
Artist: Nacho Picasso
Album: Lord of the Fly
Release: January 2012
Best Line: “I’m like the Statue of David…except I’m more endowed”
Raw,visceral, sordid, grimy. Lord of the Fly is an album that makes you feel like you’ve been gnawing on a diaper full of cigarette butts yet somehow makes aforementioned experience enjoyable. Don’t be scared of the $7 price tag, the album is absolutely packed to the brim with eerie, haunting beats and rhymes, that isn’t to say this entire album doesn’t beat tho, it could rattle trunks with the best of em. Enjoy my favorite song off of the album “Staring at the Sun” below (article cont’d after video):
It came out in early 2012 but I felt obligated to review it as my first album given that I’ve easily listened to it 25+ times all the way through. This is the type of album I could see Eddie Munster listening to in his turmoil-ridden college years, or that could be played in the Mystery Machine when Scooby and the gang are getting skagged up before a ghost hunt, it’s absolutely menacing and addicting at the same time. This could be played in it’s entirety and be the theme song to a haunted house, or a mob of zombies. The only real con to the entire album is that I’ve noticed it creates involuntary mean mugging, then again who has ever said that’s a bad thing? DO NOT SNOOZE on this rapper/producer combo they will blow up.