RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Wednesday, April 12

[HH3os] The Book of Teflon Left Foot: The Son of Dusty Don David trio

(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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