We've had a handy catch-phrase in preparation for 2009 domination: sometimes people get cut. We had no idea about the recession and weren't predicting layoffs and cutbacks. It was, instead, more about a particular work ethic. Those that don't work the land each day will inevitably be cut out. The phrase also works as a great street saying. Sometimes in the city you're gonna get sliced up a little bit.
(Right/control click to save; straight click to stream. As always, these are here for one week.)
I've often wished that Rza's beats were parties you could attend. This is a classic - stabs of detuned piano, a hard break, chestbeating bass - or as ODB says: clang clang clang, rhymes pluckin at ya brain. If I was a DJ for mythological characters, I'd throw this one to Sisyphus. As in, if you have to roll a rock up-and-down a hill for eternity, this track will tweak your energy in the right direction. In fact, while listening, I can barely walk to the train without wanting to punch someone out for no reason.
I don't know why I like this band. Like a coke-addled girlfriend, there's nothing particularly positive to say, but you stick around because it's fun. There's the derivative Bob Dylan arrangement, hushed vocals, lethargic piano, not-quite-radio-worthy pop tropes and pretty much zero innovation. It's still totally enjoyable, though. It's pretty. It's the kind of song that college radio DJs don't discover because they're too busy with Fleet Foxes.
How could I do cut songs and not throw in a legendary cocaine rap track? This one came at the beginning of a new type of storytelling in hiphop. Here, we get one of the initial comparisons between a vial of crack, coke, heroin, whatever, and the commercial aspects of the rap cut. Instead of selling drugs, you're selling rhymes. The rawness willfully ignores the glossy style. This is always commendable. Now, get back to hustlin.
