I’m kinda hoping the next mixtape by Chief Keef is entirely as ridiculous as his new track “Shooters,” while following the wastedness of Almighty So. Blurry machine gun abstraction. Pretending to “Watching a master at work,” but really just HEARING it. Plenty of Keef chorals randomly yelled in the background. Pretty much a smashing of yin and yang. Like, complete with that head on collision style. And plenty of dancing/grinding. Just keep in mind:
Male movements serve as courtship signals in many animal species, and may honestly reflect the genotypic and/or phenotypic quality of the individual. Attractive human dance moves, particularly those of males, have been reported to show associations with measures of physical strength, prenatal androgenization and symmetry… Nineteen males were recorded using the ‘Vicon’ motion-capture system while dancing to a basic rhythm; controlled stimuli in the form of avatars were then created in the form of 15 s video clips, and rated by 39 females for dance quality… In summary, we have identified specific movements within men’s dance that influence women’s perceptions of dancing ability. We suggest that such movements may form honest signals of male quality in terms of health, vigour or strength, though this remains to be confirmed.
Then there’s where my Grams stayed for a minute, but apparently JUST MISSED the action.
• Chief Keef: http://www.chiefkeef.com
“Gotta Make The NBA”
Dearest Lil B,
Could you make the NBA? Currently, I do not watch sports, but if you were ballin’ in the big-league (or your OWN made league), I’d watch you EVERY game. Mostly, it’d be because I’d need context for deep mixtape volumes of life as a legit player. Not only do I hope HOOP LIFE becomes a reality, but I hope it becomes your first album. How do you think you’d maintain the based-freestyle life in the NBA, though? You might need to draw upon the BasedGod’s ability as deity to continue driving your entity as ALL SKILLS and HARD HITTING. But I’ll take my notes. Continue to be my teacher. Class is ALWAYS in sesh with you, my man.
Jónó Mí Ló
“End Of Light #8”
Dah!!!!!!!!! You can practically smell the cheap green in this new track “End Of Light #8” by Jónó Mí Ló. Lingering the Oregon District’s back yards. Finding a box of small bullets on the sidewalk. Tryna stop Rachel from driving off drunk, but she stops herself in a ditch. Nights gone crazy dancing to tracks like “End Of Light #8” out on the bricked road main street that’s MAYBE two blocks long. Bird tunnels. The playground behind two bars.
Jónó Mí Ló’s music always pumps me up. It’s VERY MUCH any-time music. The morning time is lit with smiles and fluidity. My works gets fucking DONE while listening in the afternoon. Night time is totally buzzed out to his shredding of sounds. Fuck, and all around, knowing he’s from the same shit location I’m from makes that “shit location” all the more memorable/nostalgic. But as Dave Attell states, “You know what’s a fun thing to do [in Dayton, OH]? Pack up and get the fuck outa there.”
At any rate, Jónó and I made it out, but on different coasts. But as he says, “Dayton gave me a crazy hustle zone, for sure.” So scope his hustle zone in “End Of Light #8” streaming below, which is just a slice of Jónó Mí Ló’s newest release End Of Light on HOKO Sounds (OUT SOON):
It’s so late. The streetlights should have come on by now, but the block is dark. Marie Davidson stands out in the street, still, facing your front door. You peek through the blinds every six minutes. She has made it her personal mission to prevent you from sleeping. She has tactics:
1. The spectral monologue.
2. The inducing of nightmares.
3. The intimate knowledge of your intimate knowledge.
4. The beats.
5. The cyborg synths.
6. The church organs.
7. The hypnosis.
Work up a quick life-flash-before-your-eyes montage before you queue up “Perte D’identite,” and watch, helpless, as Davidson peels away your memories as the rind of a fruit. Her matrix of intertwined synth hardware pulses and breathes, modulating your heartbeat into step. Your eyelids sag. If you don’t understand her whispers, you glean their intention. If you don’t follow her train of thought, you aren’t focusing hard enough. Davidson’s elegant amalgam of dark ambient textures, clattering technoid rhythms, and vocal incantations soundtracks your night sweats, your persisting illusions, your clawing for the doorknob. Her synth arrangements seethe and evolve as the clock ticks. Her voice beckons you outside. You look down to see your body moving on its own. Let her win.
Berber Ox / LV Morris / Hobo Cubes / Herring und seine seiben Sachen
“Witness Finger.” Taking the stand. Pleading it’s true, “The man did evaporate into her body. He became all at once non-existent and then alive. But through her. You’re honor, it’s true. She is not who she says she is! That woman there was murdered. The man found behind the King Kullen at Sound View isn’t real. It must be the work of Berber Ox.” The woman smiles across from the “Witness Finger” and continues to let the noise ride out. “There. That smile. It’s the Berber Ox. This sounds like a lie, but I’m being honest!”
Out in the lobby, “Industrial Music” swells the walls, and gets louder as the witness quickly descends the stand and runs out of the courtroom. Gasps and falling cops are heard as the doors close behind her as she scours the hallway for the tense hollow sound being emitted and then blasted by other noises. She runs to the window, open, and shrills at the people walking, construction workers drilling and hammering, and birds singing in the breeze. As the courtroom doors burst open, cops fling themselves out, and see the stairs door slowly closing in an empty lobby, one of them radioing, “LV Morris, we’ve one on the move.”
Opening the doors of the courthouse to the world, the witness sees Hobo Cubes by way of “Slowed Variations For Unsynchronised Tempos,” and the sight is beyond her comprehension. Although much calmer now, the woman begins to walk around with this pops and crackles and serenely melts herself in the acceptance that her mentality may never stabilize, and continues to think of that woman’s smile as a man from the courtroom. She forfeits upon the lawn outside and can’t see everyone staring as the cops drag her limp body away.
Back in the courthouse, within the basement corridors, she Herring und seine seiben Sachen, and is presented the “Gateways” of her new consciousness. “This isn’t me. I’m not her. I can’t be the transformation. If you put me through those ‘Gateways,’ I’ll never return. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. That calender isn’t true. Stop dragging me. I’m fine. You’ve the wrong guy!!”
Rocket Machine Tapes will boldly slay your ears this spring with the new 2xCS60 from sound shamans Berber Ox, LV Morris, Hobo Cubes, and Herring und seine seiben Sachen. You can also snag it in a bundle deal with Kyle Landstra’s new tape too. Stream them both off the Rocket Machine Tapes Bandcamp, and grip at them ASAP!
• Rocket Machine Tapes: http://rocketmachine.bandcamp.com
• Berber Ox: http://berberox.com
• LV Morris: http://www.discogs.com/artist/3526977-L-V-Morris
• Hobo Cubes: http://hobocubes.bandcamp.com
• Herring und seine seiben Sachen: http://laichoflove.bandcamp.com