Lucas Foster was masked up long before the virus.
TrippJones is the dark prince of abjection on the Lower East Side. He paints pictures of life in the shadows of post-historical urban decay and gentrification with charcoal and ink pens. He is a dark wave shadow star who has spent the past few years documenting all that happens behind the opaque bricks and stones of LES mid-rises.
Right now what’s happening is sex, not couples clutched in missionary every few days to get it over with. Not timid questions and more awkward answers, not dark corners and suggestions, but raw, soundtracked, triple X fucking. Chemical-induced satiation of the worst of those hedonistic impulses developed through trial, error, PornHub, Tinder, ketamine, acid, and molly. Exploring the worst of smut because nothing can or should stop you.
ORGASM plays with the contradictions and tensions at the heart of pornographic liberation and sex positivity, unnerving not in it’s explicitness, but in its contextualization. Describing the heights of pleasure under the crackling, menacing sounds of Black Money Boyz and Hi-C production gives those acts of saliva and semen an undulating air of sin. Those darkest corners and edges ebb downwards, but are always immediately augmented by splices of edgy, tweaked out euphoria. Take that first transition, Mutant Joe’s despair and grey noise contrasting with Tripp’s rasps and wheezes on “Fuego Cabeza” morphs to hooting celebration on top of the insidious rolls of DJ Akoza percussion on “Stuff It.”
A schizophrenic break was inevitable; the disintegration of Western mores of chastity, moderation, and monogamy has happened so fast that black leather bound Bible’s promises of hellfire seethe underneath all of our sexual interactions. TrippJones’ stated goal on this album was to release his first porno, but the result is the visceral communication of the now universal experience of post-coitus self-disgust.
This is the logical conclusion of the Dark R&B genre Purrp created 20 Twitter accounts ago, splitting the difference between Intoxxxicated, Uncle Luke, and the hip-hop playing in the background on Xvideos. It’s not supposed to be an easy or mindless listen, it’s supposed to bring you further from God, relieving the worst of your impulses in the absence of anything else to do. If we do indeed live in hell or the apocalypse, you need music like this to keep overthinking all the things that led you here.
