“Sunday’s Best/Monday’s Worst”
Three years after dropping the Album of the Year, Black Milk is putting the finishing touches on a new record, due out this summer. Ever the overachiever, the Detroit producer/MC has presented us with two singles for the price of one: “Sunday’s Best/Monday’s Worst.” In many ways, it’s similar to another ambitious rap narrative — Kendrick Lamar’s “Sherane A.K.A. Master Splinter’s Daughter.” Both tell stories of street violence, and situate their sudden, climactic climaxes within the harsh realism of day-to-day city life. Black Milk takes us from the safe, sanctified gospel of Church on Sunday to the cold, sulky streets on a Monday morning. Vice and virtue, love and hate — the lines separating these traditionally static pairs are blurred, all before a warm, varied sample set that serves as a testament to Black Milk’s obsession for soul.
• Black Milk: http://blackmilk.biz
“86 Remix” [ft. AZ and Altrina Renee]
It looks like Raekwon’s Lost Jewelry EP somehow slipped through the Chocolate Grinder’s cracks. Those who checked it, though, might remember the original version of the aptly titled woolie “86.” The above remix doesn’t do much to the original except add on a fantastic verse from the criminally underrated AZ, who, come to think of it, has already done a fair share of classic culinary collabos going all the way back to 1996’s “Doe or Die Remix.” I for one wouldn’t mind seeing these two veterans team up for a full album.
Some would have you believe that Tjutjuna spent the three years since the release of their self-titled album navigating seismic personnel changes, woodshedding in their native Denver habitat, and building their forthcoming Westerner LP out of various ores and iridescent ethers. False: I happen to know for a fact that the band spent this time shacked up on an asteroid with their amps and drums and pedal chains stretched out across the craters, wailing on one sustained note and squinting almost forever off into the abyss. A few months into their session, a giant asteroid worm emerged from one of the caverns and they had to deal with that, so: tunnel chase -> sine-wave laser showdown -> victory and the reestablishment of space peace. They finished their long tone, packed up their gear, and made it back home. Great job.
The four piece squeezes so much psych magma into the six minutes of “Songer Dance”: a mix-swallowing wash of synth drones and bubbling polyphonic sequences; guitar skronk and savage repetition not far from the Laddio Bolocko/The Psychic Paramount school of shred; a balls-out song structure curved exponentially upward. Catching a young band utilizing just one of these attack strategies can unglaze eyes and spark heads into a slow nod, but oh whoa, great, it turns out that Tjutjuna brings us everything we want all together at once — sound enough to scrub a granite slab down to sand with the volume maxed.
Pre-order Westerner and get one of 200 vinyl copies delivered straight from Fire Talk on April 30. Also, if your mind and face are melt-proof, catch the boys on tour across America with Acid Mothers Temple (!!) this Spring.
A warning for the weak-stomached: Earl’s clip for “Woah,” the most recent single off his upcoming Doris LP (release date TBA), contains some pretty unappetizing stuff. Earl lounges on an inflatable raft in the murky, probably typhus-infested waters of a mostly-empty pool; Lucas Vercetti (a.k.a. the dude from the Odd Future Tape Volume 2 cover) smashes an ice cream cone into his face with a look of unbridled scorn; and, somewhere in the maddening expanse of this post-apocalyptic trailer park, an old, tired ballerina bounces around in a lethargic daze. Oh, and of course there’s the Jackassedry: fireworks + shopping carts = good times. “Woah” firmly embeds itself in the stomach-churning, grin-inducing cinematic canon of Odd Future — a slice of Garbage Pail Kids heaven.
Yup. Everyone is out of the office today. :) They’re recovering from the Unisex Earplug thing, so I’m just sitting here alone, sipping some tea and fighting my second cold of the season. It’s lousy, you know? :P But the workload has been pretty brutal since our merger with Bud Light Platinum™, so I can’t really afford to take another sick day. Anyway, don’t tell Mr P, but I’m basically just squandering my time. I’m just sitting here sending messages back and forth to my girlfriend and surfing the web. (OMG. There are the most adorable hedgehog pictures on Buzzfeed right now! <:(#)!) Did I mention that, finally, this morning, I came across the new video for Taylor Swift’s totally ♫amazing♫song♫ “22?” OMG. You may not believe it, but Red really was a favorite of TMT’s last year. It made a number of our personal year-end lists (mine included!!!), but it somehow managed to avoid getting a place on our official list. D: But seriously, I’ve been watching this music video all day. I’m, like, a million of those views! ;) (Just turned it on again! LOL! I’m turning it up loud this time and wiggling around in my chain because I can!!! Thank GOD Alex R Wilson isn’t here to make fun of me for it! LOL!!!) So not only is it one of my favorite songs from the album, but it reminds me, in the midst of so much interoffice turmoil and backstabbing and SELLING OUR BEAUTIFUL SITE OFF TO THE LOWEST OF THE LOW BIDDERS (Seriously, BUD LIGHT PLATINUM™?) that we’re still young and free and alive! That our hipness is really just dork’ness in disguise! :D And that Taylor (<3<3<3) can make even the most hardened listener melt a little (A LOT!!!) into a puddle of red lipstick and ❤ hand hearts ❤ and glitter! Anyway, I reallllly need to get to work now. :( Marnie Stern reviews don’t write themselves, you know. (Maybe I’ll have time for a quick Starbucks run first? Need. More. Tea! :/ Blahhh. LOL.) But thanks so much for indulging me for a couple of minutes. Your loyal TMT #swiftie.
✿ xoxox ✿
“Wave of Fear, Wave of Joy”
I knew the black skinny tie was a good choice tonight. The whole place is filled with smoke, like when people still used to smoke inside. I experience the entire evening in photographs as the strobe light just manages to commandeer my vision. The neon colors of everyone’s clothing flash like lights from the cityscape disappearing and reappearing between buildings and alleys and intersections. The entire floor is the drum machine, I decide, unable to locate where the music is coming from. What did I do today? Who are all of these party-goers when the sun is still out, not just rising as the evening ends? No one, I suppose. We are Night People.