What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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2019 | Bubblegum Bass | Listen
NARUTO RUNNING TO THE POKEMON GO SPOT, VAPE IN HAND
There's no denying it; 1000 Gecs uses eccentric overload to incite a reaction. And it works. 100 gecs' debut is indebted to the modern, DIY music scene that finds value in amateur qualities. The duo of Dylan Brady and Osno1 that converge into androgynous, chipmunk vocals are basically a walking meme, and their self-awareness is palpable. It's also irritatingly erratic, with a bevy of cheap instrumentation set to decibels far exceeding their intent. 1000 Gecs veers close to anti-music, in that it spits on tradition with how much is painfully wrong with it.
But there's no denying the fun factor, which these brief 23 minutes has in spades. With art that's purposely bad, enjoyability becomes a lot more subjective in that - despite moments coming from the same artists - certain pieces can infuriate while others can amuse. Something like 'xXXi_wud_nvrstøp_ÜXXx,' which basically ramps up 2000's dance floor Electropop for aesthetic, has no discernible value since the original genre was trashy to begin with. However, the Bubblegum Trance of tracks like '745 sticky' and personal favorite 'stupid horse' are irresistibly delicious because of their playful spirit and ability to appreciate absurdity.
I also love the extremity of 'gec 2 Ü,' which acts as an awesome and utterly massive climax with a barrage of arena bass and sirens collapsing in on themselves. As if someone comically twisted the knob too hard and all hell broke loose. 'gec 2 Ü' also features the strongest lyrical content, which is expectedly a point of contention for 1000 gecs. Here, they mix adolescent ebullience with relatable flashes of ardor. Elsewhere the slapdash lyrics about trivial Gen X strife tends to come off as too inordinate, although 100 gecs' ability to match a proper tone with the production's brazen spontaneity is admirable.
C
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Despite the fervent anticipation of Freddie Gibbs and Madlib's follow-up to 2014's acclaimed Piñata, nothing can resurrect the archaic modus of Gangsta Rap. Not even the two who spearheaded its minor resurgence. Bandana is a stale, conventional take on Hip-Hop's most primitive form of panache, duplicating the patterns, samples, and messages of Piñata without offering anything substantially new. Which is the greatest flaw of Gangsta Rap; its stubbornness in retaining an edge that should be condemned, not glorified.
That can be seen in all of Gibbs' lyrics, which fantasize about inner-city ideals he's long since removed from. Couple that with his boilerplate flows - an ode to the Golden Era of Hip-Hop for sure, if the inclusion of like-minded rappers Black Thought and Yasiin Bey on 'Education' are evidence enough - that sometimes comically veer off the rails, and quite literally off the beat ('Crime Pays,' 'Fake Names'), and it's hard to appreciate the vocal side of Bandana.
Predictably, Madlib fares better but it's still in strong contrast to his past, sample-laden works. Of course, vintage 70's Soul samples dot the entire LP and while their presence - sans for a few untidy errants ('Massage Seats,' 'Giannis') - are adept and lavish, they're hardly original in the year 2019. That's hardly Madlib's fault though, more so his influence on a legion of modern producers.
A couple moments of beauty emerge, 'Practice' and 'Cataracts,' which amount to Bandana's best because of the nostalgic tone in the production matching Gibbs' introspective reminiscing. Here, when Gibbs isn't so hellbent on proving his worth, is where the two's similarities materialize. Solid stuff there, but that can't be said for the rest of the album. A myriad of dull tries at styles long since past.
D
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I'm unsure of the execution, but WHY? has released the entirety of the upcoming AOKOHIO in five, heavily-dissected EP's. Perhaps it's to imply a concept, a narrative of sorts following Yoni Wolf's youth, since it's clear with I. I May Come Out a Broken Yolk, I May Come Out on Saddle and now II. I've Been Carving My Elbows, I Might Just Take Flight that that's where Wolf's heart lies. And I can appreciate it given how often WHY? has deteriorated into endless Abstract Hip-Hop non-sequiturs in the past.
It's no surprise that I've Been Carving My Elbows sounds like I May Come Out A Broken Yolk, since they're apart of the same consummate piece, so there's more happy-go-lucky Indie Pop to really sink your teeth into here. 'Reason's' the most lackluster cut, because Wolf's errant and vexing singing vocals take centerstage, while 'Stained Glass Slipper' counteracts that momentary relapse with solid indie Rap, reminiscent of his collaboration with Serengeti on the greatly under appreciated Testarossa.
C
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