May 31st, 2008
Kind of a big weekend for the hipping and the hopping (and conversely, the bipping and the bopping). As you are on reading this on the Internet, on a blog, I think it’s safe to say that you have been bumping Carter III and Wale’s Mixtape About Nothing for the past 24 hours. I’ll refrain from dropping some inchoate, half-assed thoughts at the moment (I’ll save that for next week), but thankfully, this is what the comments section is for. Also, Jay Electronica’s “Bitches and Drugs” video dropped and in its Pink Floyd thievery, it might be one of my favorites of the year. So play like Linda Richman and coffee tawk in the comments section. Here, I’ll start. The Holy Roman Empire was neither holy nor Roman nor an empire. Discuss.
Download:
MP3: Lil Wayne ft. Jay-Z-”Mr. Carter”
ZIP: Wale-Mixtape about Nothing (left-click)
Video: Jay Electronica-”Bitches & Drugs”
Posted in Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought? | 9 Comments »
May 30th, 2008
I won’t deny it. Things started spiraling rapidly downhill the moment I started compiling mixtapes of my favorite non-hip hop songs released this year. Vampire Weekend? Santogold? Hercules & The Love Affair? I kind of wanted to kick my own ass or at the very least give myself a wedgie. Of course, music is music and it’s stupid to let one’s natural “hater” inclinations stop them from enjoying something good, regardless of how stupid their haircuts and/or facial hair are (save for arguably Man Man). Still, there’s something deeply troubling in my nagging suspicion that these muxtapes were compiled by someone in a Fruity Loops hoodie, a pair of $2 neon green sunglasses and a mustache lustrous enough to be the toast of Echo Park.
So snipe away in the comments section if you will. You can even call me that increasingly meaningless* perjorative, “hipster.” All I can really say in my anti-hipster defense is that I still eat hamburgers at In-N-Out, can dunk a basketball and am hitting .368 with a .680 slugging percentage in my Saturday hardball Baseball league (Go Buzz). Now if you’ll excuse me it’s time to put on a headband and cut my hair in fashionable yet unflattering manner. Good day.
* The word “hipster,” of course, only being meaningless when used to potentially describe me.
Passion of the Weiss Muxtape #5: The Best “Indie” Songs To Get An Asymmetrical Haircut To (Part 1)
Passion of the Weiss Muxtape #6: The Best Indie Songs To Get An Asymmetrical To (Part 2)
(Track listing After the Jump)
Read the rest of this entry »
Posted in Muxtape | 13 Comments »
May 29th, 2008
The “Ice Cream” video. Because sometimes it’s a day that ends in “Y.”
Posted in Videos | No Comments »
May 28th, 2008
Zilla Rocca once held a Backstreet Boys CD in the palm of his hand. It was directly after taking it out of the grasp of a knocked-out shoplifter. So what if it was a 13-year old girl, she was a thief.
It was revealed last week that Lou Pearlman, the “mastermind” behind the Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC (last time I’ll ever be using that asterisk), was found guilty of more than just polluting the youth of the late 90s with songs rhyming “fire” with “desire” and “love” with “above.” Big Lou is ready to do an up north trip to the tune of 25 years for a decades-long scam that fleeced relatives and business investors in the hundreds of millions. Hopefully he’ll start a blog like Prodigy. Either way, Vanilla Ice suddenly didn’t seem that evil anymore…but fuck him, still.
After reading over the news story at OMG!, which apparently is run by a 12 year old white girl who loves texting, I decided to do a quick Wiki look-see at Big Lou.
Two words:
Holy
Shit
This guy makes George Bush and Isiah Thomas look like Amish farmers. First off, his cousin is Art Garfunkel—I mean the resemblance is uncanny, right? Second, he got his start in business by hanging around a German blimp tycoon named Theodor Wüllenkemper. Will Ferrell and Adam McKay should store that information for when they begin working on “Anchorman 2.” Big Lou then started a blimp advertising company that would’ve maybe worked out, except for the measly little crash of a Jordache blimp. No reports on whether or not the blimp was acid-washed.
Fat Man In A Little…Kid
This transitional period of Big Lou’s life was a true crash and burn. And how did this balding, morbidly obese phoenix rise from the ashes? He became “involved” with the Chippendale dancers. Ok—this is where Wikipedia gets kinda scary. Here’s a quote from Big Lou: “I got involved with Chippendales before Backstreet and it’s Chippendales and New Kids on the Block that gave me the idea to pursue Backstreet.” How, why, or what level of involvement actually that means, no straight man should ever know like the ending of “Fried Green Tomatoes.”
He then took his fake aircraft leasing business Trans Continental Traveling Services, home of penny stock swindlers and pump-and-dump schemes, and turned it into a label, Trans Continental Records. The label signed the 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Backstreet, Nsync, LFO, and O-Town. If that wasn’t enough, he signed Aaron Carter, Jordan Knight, C-Note, and Smilez & Southstar. *
In short, this Lou Pearlman is responsible for 72% of all returned CDs in US history while setting balding, sweat-caked white millionaires back 35 years.
To run a talent scouting company in 2002, Lou hired a man named Ayman Ahmed El-Difrawi “who had a criminal record, spent nearly four years in prison for fraud, and is banned from doing business in Illinois” probably for buying White Sox season tickets. To Lou, he wasn’t a felon—he was “just the computer guy.” This PC dude left the agency in 2003 along with some credit card numbers of unsigned talent who registered and paid $200 to be on the website to host their pictures in hopes of being discovered by an A&R.
Rolling Stone: The Prostate Exam Issue
When Big Lou wasn’t discovering Orlando ’s best colostomy bags, he was pillaging investors in Ponzi schemes for millions of dollars. He was first sued for $130 mill, which turned into $317 mill, which topped out at $500 mill. Props to the Orlando Weekly for putting a foot up investigators’ asses: “”Old news, amigos. We told you three years ago that Pearlman was a corpulent pusbag who would rip off anybody and anything within reach of his scaly appendages. But did you listen? No, you did not.”
Lou Pearlman’s ten different companies, which all existed to rob and extort people, were peanuts compared to the TRL-flavored extortion sauce he fed BSB and Nsync. He not only got a cut of BSB’s profits as the manager and “producer,” he was also paid as the sixth member of the group. With his big ass, he should’ve pushed to be paid as the seventh and eight member too.
Nsync generated over $300 mill during their heyday, most of which landed in the pockets of BMG and Big Lou. Nsync took home $7 mill to split five ways, which led to this statement in Rolling Stone by Justin Timberlake: “”I was being monetarily raped by a Svengali.” That could’ve been a hook for Madonna’s new album seeing how it’s spunky, subtle, and full of potential sex-pop innuendo.
Never Forget
There have also been several claims that Big Lou was really sweet for man candy. He was alleged to have had inappropriate dealings with Rich Cronin of LFO, some 13 year old kids in the group Take 5, a cast-off from Backstreet, and Aaron Carter. Why he didn’t fondle Vanilla Ice for good measure is beyond me.
In a 2007 interview with Radar magazine, Big Lou was apparently high on crack cocaine he bought from Howie of BSB when he made the statement, “I’m planning on this chapter ending soon….This is just one of those hurdles in life that you have to get past….I mean the Backstreet Boys are about to get going again. They had a band member quit, but they’re about to stage a comeback…we are still entitled to a share of the revenue.” Maybe he forgot that Justin Timberlake wasn’t in Backstreet, but rather the douche who tried to marry Paris Hilton and sold less records than his kid brother, who had a single called “That’s How I Beat Shaq.” **
As we bid farewell to one of America ’s biggest sharters, it’s important to note that Lou Pearlman has learned the error of his ways. He just released a statement full of remorse after his conviction saying, “I’ve come to realize the harm that’s been done” as if this all was a slow revelation.
When he wasn’t crashing blimps full of jeans from the 80s, hanging around chest naked male strippers, fantasizing about New Kids on the Block, creating dummy corporations, robbing relatives/retirees/investors of their life savings, molesting Disney channel favorites, hiring felons, or introducing Joey Fatone to the American consciousness, he was eating live cattle with his bare hands.
Goodbye Louis Jay Pearlman and fuck you!
*When I used to work at Coconuts, we had to listen to shitty in-store CDs every month. Each CD had a tracklisting full of songs that labels paid to have placed. There was a good 3 month stretch when Smilez & Southstar were on these in-store CDs. I remember picking up their CD on the shelf and looking at 2 guys and thinking “Which one is Smilez?” Neither one really beamed personality. “And how does one become Southstar when you live in Orlando ?” The one guy looked like the not-so-funny black comedian Flex of “Homeboys in Outers Space” fame and the other looked like Jin of “Why isn’t Ruff Ryders returning my calls?” fame mixed with a chihuahua. Regardless, they were both better than Lil’ Wayne.
**My lone Aaron Carter memory once again comes courtesy of Coconuts in-store CDs. I forget the title of his single, but I do vividly recall one of his lyrics as “mom and dad be trippin!” That’s not much else you can say about Aaron Carter after that, but that song was still better than “A Millie.”
Posted in The Beat Generation | 7 Comments »
May 28th, 2008
One of the more frustrating things about hip-hop heads*, specifically those old enough to remember the first two Golden Ages, is the general groupthink that no hip-hop album made today can possibly be as great as anything made during 88-96. This is just how it goes. Nostalgia is a motherfucker and no matter how dope I think “Cappuccino” and “Royal Flush” are, they will still never give me the charge that I get when a DJ plays “Gimme the Loot” back-to-back with “Hip Hop Hooray.” I get it. Sure, there’s probably also a grain of truth to the argument that things were in fact, better back in the days (no Ahmad). Hell, at times reading Thimk’s digitized collection of old Source magazines makes me think that comparing 88-96 hip-hop with modern stuff is like comparing apples to orange pineapple juice.
Yes, fantastic hip-hop is produced on the (semi) regular, but as we’ve discussed, you’ve got to dig deeper than the Universal Music Group hegomony (hey Def Jam, thanks for sending me the Blood Raw and Pittsburgh Slim jaunts, they make for fantastic coasters). Making it harder, of course, has been the demise of all the independent rap outfits. Forget Fondle ‘Em and Rawkus, where are the Tommy Boy’s, 4th & Broadways, Delicious Vinyl’s and Wild Pitch’s? Go listen to “Labels,” again, half of those crooks no longer exist, the other half have been folded into some larger umbrella organization where the only thing people can agree upon is that they need more “Lollipops.” ** Sure, Def Jux and Stones Throw are usually consistently very good and every now and then Duck Down and Rhymesayers release something worthwhile, but none of them release more than four records a year and though B.C.C. are something fierce, I’m just not checking for them in 2008. To say nothing of Mac Lethal.
Elzhi does not have a label. In fact, you’ve probably never heard of him unless you’re one of the 23 people that semi-regularly comment on this blog. A few years ago he joined Slum Village and nearly did the impossible: making people care about them after Dilla left. Over the past few years, he’s been working the cameo circuit, popping up sporadically to kill it on every Detroit release, slowly building anticipation for a full-length allegedly supposed to drop later this year. Europass was supposed to be a stop-gap, self-pressed CD to sell at merch tables on Elzhi’s recent Spring tour of Europe (he’s huge in Antwerp). According to Elzhi’s Myspace, it’ll also see a physical release at some point, but who knows? Even if it doesn’t, it’s not just the best rap album of the year, it’s enough to make me thank god for the Internet.***
Big El
Lest I get pilloried in the comments section, I’ll refrain from calling Europass a “classic,” but if it isn’t, it’s not far off, hitting many of the benchmarks required from classic rap records. First and foremost, Elzhi is a quintessential “rapper’s rapper.” Not in any sort of corny, Canibus “scientific” way, but in that true-school, “I will battle you until your larynx crumbles” way. His flow is machine-gun like and the subtext beneath intimates that it’s been honed under the pressure of thousands of ciphers and tapes of Road to Riches played until they popped.
Reading the fully transcribed text (see comments section) of his verse from “Motown 25,” should be mandatory for aspiring rappers. Forget the perfect pacing and the delivery coming at a whiplash speed, study the syllable placement and the cleverness of the wordplay. All the people praising every half-assed Lil Wayne turn of phrase (sorry bucko, “like ranch I dip” is fucking retarded), ought to snap to attention to a line like “I’m higher than the jeans on Urkel.” Which is pretty much the most obvious yet brilliant line since V. Vaughn came to “save the game like a memory card.”
Production-wise, this marks Black Milk’s official emergence as one of the finest beatmakers in music. Forget the Dilla comparisons, he’s very much his own artist. As much as this showcases Elzhi’s lyrical and technical capabilities, this remains very much Milk’s record. Popular Demand, Phat Kat’s Carte Blanche and Caltroit merely hinted at his potential and indeed, Europass feels like he’s only beginning to enter his prime. Handling 75 percent of the record’s tracks, the man born Curtis Cross eschews the sunshine organicism of post-Native Tongues Dilla, for a darker, metallic vision. This is the rusting, twisted metal of post-glory days Motown. Tracks like “That’s the One,” “Fire” and particularly, “Talkin’ In My Sleep” find him conjuring the sound of ice and cold Detroit steel. Drums pop like cars backfiring in a pounding rain. Soul samples are splintered into oblivion. If the Bomb Squad and El-P are the overt soundtrack to urban decay, Milk is the subtle alternative, with music less explosive than it is haunting. A fellow Rock City native, Elzhi plays the perfect foil, tackling Milk’s tempestuous soundscapes with that rare chemistry found in the great duos: Cl Smooth & Pete Rock, Guru and Premier, Marley Marl and Kane.
Elzhi Conducting An Auction at Butterfield & Butterfield
It’s been said that Elzhi doesn’t have all that much to say, which is partially true. Thematically, he sticks to boasts about lyrical skill, the perils of inner city existence and a love of hip-hop, weed and women. But it’s not just what Elzhi says but rather the way in which he says it. Lazy rappers would describe a girl by saying she has a “phat ass,” whereas on “Save Ya,” Elzhi describes one as having a “figure that can turn ‘no’ into ‘maybe.” Instead of saying he’s a “dope MC,” the ex-Slum Villager will declare “what I put down in the sound coil/is crown royal/it’s like I dug in the ground soil and found oil.” He doesn’t “slay wack rappers,” he’ll “known to terrorize/paralyze a pair of guys/or prepare to rise off the land, sea, air and skies.” You get the drift.
Five years ago, you or I wouldn’t have heard Europass. No major would’ve ever touched it and if we were lucky, some tiny indie might’ve released an extremely small number of copies to minimal promotion and buzz. But times have changed and with the spate of blogs, file-hosting services and the ever-increasing emergence of the Internet as the new streets (weird), Elzhi’s Europass will probably get more promotion than that godawful Pittsburgh Slim album that Def Jam buried at the beginning of the year. Not only is Europass the best rap record since at least The Big Dough Rehab, it provides a strong argument for the D being the vital nerve center of hip-hop right now. And no, I’m not talking about Dwayne.
* Other than an unabating love of Cormega.
** Humanity, you really blew it on this one.
*** And in all likelihood, unless Bar Refaeli reveals herself to be a huge fan of both subterranean hip-hop and the blogosphere, this is probably the only time I will ever make that statement.
Download:
MP3: Elzhi ft. Royce Da 5′9-”Motown 25″
MP3: Elzhi-” Talkin’ In My Sleep”
MP3: Elzhi ft. Black Milk-”Fire”
Posted in Album Reviews | 14 Comments »
May 27th, 2008
First El-P and now the Parson Redheads? All I need is a post on Ghostface to turn Tuesday into a referendum on which groups I’ve written about more than anyone else. But consider this less sheer Homerism than shameless self-promotion (get yr official Passion of the Weiss tee-shirts coming soon!) as I’ve written a feature for The OC Weekly on the Redheads and their new Owl and Timber EP. It’s my first piece for the paper and naturally, I took the method approach to writing. I.E. bleaching my hair, getting an entire wardrobe of Volcom and Hurley and buying a surfboard. What I’m trying to say really is please excuse my usage of the word, “brah.”
OC Weekly: The Parson Redheads-”Welcome to the Jangle”
MP3: The Parson Redheads-”Got It All”
MP3: The Parson Redheads-”Crowds”
Posted in OC Weekly | 4 Comments »
May 27th, 2008
I think that everyone who reads this blog is in accord that the world doesn’t need another El Producto concert review where the writer strains to cram in the words, “Orwellian,” “dystopian” and “nihilistic.” Instead, here are a few scattered thoughts from last Thursday’s LA stop on the Def Jux: Spaceships and Soy Milk 2008 World Tour.
- It’s nice to see that people are okay with liking hip-hop again. Not like I blame indie rappers for trying to push genre boundaries because let’s face it, rap’s been mired in an Andruw Jones-like slump/bloat for the majority of the decade. But if I had to watch one more rapper come on-stage with a watery three-piece backing band whose greatest musical achievement was taking acid with Bootsy Collins on the 1987 P-Funk tour stop in Scranton, I was going to stab myself with a rusty ice-pick. There is no shame in coming on-stage with just a DJ and a hype man and burning that motherfucker down. After spending the previous year touring with a band in Clockwork Orange jumpsuits, delivering diluted bass licks and dull drum fills, it’s comforting to see El back in two turntables and a microphone mode.
- Hearing El rhyme over the instrumentals for “Born to Roll,” “Can I Kick It,” and “Children’s Story” provided a nice respite from his sledgehammering Space Odyssey beats but moreover, it was also good to know that enough time has passed for artists to cop to their formative influences in a sober-eyed (if not slightly nostalgic) homage to the Golden Era. Not that rappers need to spend their time wallowing in misty-eyed reminisces about the boom-bap days. That’s what blogs are for.
- As highly as I regard El-P’s work, he’s better off leaving the political diatribes to his songs. I know he’s a polemicist and like his arch-nemesis Dubya, he doesn’t
“do nuance,” but I’m willing to guess that 96.3 percent of his audience is already supporting Obama. Therefore his anti-Clinton and McCain rants feel perfunctory and preachy. Like is Hillary Clinton not making enough of an ass of herself daily where El-P needs to make on-stage diatribes against girls prideful that a woman has gotten that far in a man’s world? So what if said woman is probably a mutant cyborg? Fuck it. Play “Mike Douglas” instead. Rants against coke-rap worshipping music journos are way funnier than those against politicians who everyone already finds unctuous in the first place.
Shave and A Haircut…Two Bits 
- To the very pretty blond girl freaking in front of me during “Stepfather Factory”: While I found you very attractive and thought that there was no reason on earth why you should ever have to find yourself in the company of a bearded white guy in a Che cap, you also might want to listen to the lyrics of the song in question. There is absolutely nothing danceable about a song that paints a harrowing picture of life under an alcoholic, abusive step-father. Nor should you be grinding to the “Overly Dramatic Truth” either. The song is a four-minute ode to being in your early 30s and having hollow, regretful, coked-out sex with naive 22-year olds. Wait a minute…
- A little bit of advice to the Myspace MC’s passing out copies of their CD in front of the venue: by passing out your demo at an indie rap show in the year 2008 you are automatically branding a scarlet “R” on your forehead for retard. If you haven’t heard, there is this little invention called the Internet and you are far better off wasting your night badgering bloggers to write about you than you are trying to hit up guys smoking cloves in angora sweaters who may or may not believe that your songs are in fact, music “for the heartbroken revolutionary.” To say nothing of naming yourself Guido Corleone, which is arguably the only rap name worse than Lil Young.
- No MC in this decade has been more over-hyped than Dizzee Rascal. Yes, this includes Lil Wayne. When Boy in Da Corner came out the rap dilettante set trumped Dizzee as the dream hybrid of Biggie, ‘Pac and The Streets. Instead, dude’s the Brit-rap Twista, minus the “Slow Jamz,” “Poppin’ Tags,” and “Po Pimp.” Granted, I’ve never heard Showtime, which Ian Cohen says is by far his best effort, but his debut and his latest, Maths and English are nigh unlistenable. Yes, he can flow just fine but his Brit patois renders everything unintelligible, which wouldn’t be damning in and of itself if he had any cadence. Instead, everything barrels out with the same rapid-fire monotone and after five minutes you’re left with a side-splitting migraine and the belief that Dizzee may also have the worst beat selection skills of any MC this side of Nas. I know that people wanted to paint Dizzee as the avatar of the grime scene (hey, remember grime?) and a poet of Britain’s disenfranchised immigrant population, but c’mon, this guy named his label Dirtee Stank. The label logo features turds with flies coming out of them. C’mon dude, you’re doing the work for me.
Download:
MP3: El-P-”Fuck the Law”
MP3: El-P-”Mike Douglas”
Camu Tao Tribute:
MP3: SA Smash ft. Vast Aire-”Slide On Em”
MP3: Sa Smash-”Illy”
MP3: Camu Tao-”Hold the Floor”
MP3: Mhz-”Rocket Science”
MP3: Mhz-”Magnetics”
Posted in Beards, Blazers, & Glasses | 15 Comments »
May 23rd, 2008
Photo Via Timothy Norris (See More Photos of the Show at Play)
There’s something primal about the Kills. Not some sort of cheap $2 voodoo either. They offer no gimmicks, or eye-popping flash or smoke machines to dazzle you. This is sound as dirt. Raw, blistering, fuck-you noise built off a devil’s deal between the blues and punk. The triumph of brute simplicity over needless complexity. The Kills. Two people. A man, Hotel, pork-pie hat, cragged face, leather jacket zipped up to his neck, reeling back and forth, letting loose wiry, attenuated strands of sharp noise from his guitar. A woman, VV, cloaked in leopard print, raven hair snapping with every whip of her head and every peacock thrust.
Thing is, The Kills don’t make music, they weave spells like Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. Which sounds cheesy if you aren’t there, but not if you are and get helplessly sucked into the tractor-beam tension that swallows the room whole. At times, VV and Hotel tip-toe to about an inch of the other’s face, with the sort of “will they or won’t they” drama that could sustain a bad television sitcom for at least two years. As far as front-women go, no one is even comes close to the girl born Allison Mosshart. She performs in an almost possessed trance, spitting, strutting, spinning, climbing up on the speaker and staring at the crowd like a beautiful, wicked queen scornfully surveying her subjects. At other times, she picks up a guitar and unleashes an alluvial delta howl, with a snarling viciousness that’s almost frightening, yet seems appropriate to the alienated love-lashed tone of her lyrics.
Song titles include “I Hate the Way That You Love,” “Love is a Deserter,” and “Sour Cherry,” where she bellows about being “the only sour cherry on the fruit stand.” It’s impossible to leave a Kills show without sweating. I saw at least four ashen-faced young men practically shaking last night, as though they needed to rush home and take a cold shower. Anyone dimly wondering where all the riot grrls went, would do well to look here. Just don’t look directly in her eyes.
Download:
From Midnight Boom
MP3: The Kills-”Cheap and Cheerful”
From No Wow
MP3: The Kills-”Love is a Deserter”
From Keep On Your Mean Side
MP3: The Kills-”Kissy Kissy”
Posted in Beards, Blazers, & Glasses | 3 Comments »
May 22nd, 2008
Indeed. As is any compilation that features the song from the clip above, which you may remember from the opening credits of the very excellent Ghost World. Thanks to crate-digger and ex-Stylus alum Todd Hutlock, I’ve been listening non-stop to Doob Doob O’ Rama Filmsongs of Bollywood for the past 24 hours. Recorded in the 60s and 70s most of the tracks bear a psychedelic bent that meshes nicely with the traditional Indian instrumentation. It’s great stuff. Highly recc’d for fans of George Harrison, Lamb Korma, Bobby Jindal and doob-o-ramas.
Download:
MP3: Mohammed Rafi-”Jan Paheehan Ho”
MP3: P. Suseela/S. Rajeswari/S. Janaki-”Isaiyarasi”
Posted in Album Reviews | 2 Comments »
May 22nd, 2008
No, the three and a half (out of four) stars that I tossed to II Trill does not mean that I have resolved to only rock 22 inch rims and sip syrup in my candy-colored Caddy. Nor does it mean this blog is about to turn into a Paul Wall, Lil Flip or Mike Jones tribute page (Remind me who is Mike Jones again?). But Bun B never deserved to be lumped in with the rest of those amateurs in the late great imagined 2005 Houston takeover, where the National Association of Critics Who Discovered Rap in 2002 tried to use the dubious logic of “B.b.but they’re from Houston,” to ride for a bunch of no-talent mealy-mouthed MC’s.
Despite the mixed reviews its drawn, II Trill is a very good record. In my opinion, it’s more consistently enjoyable and focused than both Underground Kingz and the first Trill. Of course, any album with song titles that include “Swang On ‘Em” and “That’s Gangsta” is liable to lapse into generic gangsterisms. But give Bun credit for mostly managing to transcend those tropes. Of course, like most rap records, it’s overly long, to say nothing of “Just be Good to Me,” Bun’s horrible collabo with Mya, that to be kind is no “Movin’ On.” Still, on a trillness scale (eerily similar to the Pitchfork scale), I’d give it an 8.2.
LA Times: II Trill review
Download:
MP3: Bun B ft. Lupe Fiasco-”Swang On ‘Em” (Removed due to extremely obnoxious label request)
MP3: Bun B ft. Pimp C & Chamillionaire-”Underground Thang” (Removed due to extremely obnoxious label request
Posted in LA Times, Album Reviews | 8 Comments »
