Dumphop’s Party (Come Get It) [DL; Self-Released]

It’s likely after you hear “Swiftfist,” you’ll find yourself strangely entranced by the odd mashups that swim within William Maranci’s (AKA Dumphop) brain. We’ve all experienced this phenomenon from time to time, combining rhythms, lyrics, and ideas into the blender of our hippocampus. These songs become imperfect from the originals, but our processors turn these memories into non-fiction that is unshakable, if unstable.

So, the chuckle that will come up with the combination of “Bring Your Own Roads” will explode into full-fledged laughter with the “Staying Alive” b/w “Bulls on Parade” combo “Bee Gees on Parade”. And at first, you’ll wonder if Maranci is playing this for laughs, appropriating ideas and finding the funniest comedic thread in an era where a quick quip can blow up someone’s social media profile.

Yet, I challenge this notion that it’s for a quick boost. Maranci’s other works as Dumphop can be had for nothing. He’s not seeking money, which is wise considering the intellectual property involved. Rather, Maranci explores how fractured and faulty our memories truly are in hilarious, but often twisted strands. The manipulation of the Gibbs brothers vocals border on horrific, as if to play into the tossed-off idea music debaters use when discussing musicians and melodies they deem unworthy (“10 mashups from hell”). In other cases, Maranci’s skill in combining seemingly disparate musical artforms (The break-up lyrics of Taylor Swift with the broken-down metal of Tool; the poptimism of Weezer’s “Island in the Sun” with the bleak outlook of “Head Like a Hole”). All of this is dissected through a pop pastiche that is necessary to make it not only palatable but presentable to the great premise that our minds are not the perfect instruments we believe them to be.

Yes, the joke’s obvious and perhaps lowbrow. But the ear that Maranci displays, and the psychedelic influence on our own sketchy memories bleeding into each other, is no joke.


Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d’art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.

Most Read