RUMINATING UNDER THE VEIL OF NOVELTY
It was only a natural evolution for artists to began experimenting with the extrication of modern music's most popular genre; Hip-Hop. Though predated some 20-odd years by influential collective cLOUDDEAD, Material Girl's rapturous synesthesia still feels on the cusp of a breakthrough in Sound Collage. Transforming mundane Pop Rap into soul-crushing discourse bears some resemblance to Dean Blunt's work, or more precisely, that of under-appreciated comrade (who Material Girl paired up with on Tangram's 'Funeral Parade Of Roses') Coin Locker Kid. Existential thought ravaged by debilitating modernity. That's the feeling attributed to tracks like 'Babyfat' and 'Material Girl Meets The Devil Pt. 3,' wherein solemn gravity becomes forcibly offset when "keepin' up with the Jones'" rears its peer pressuring head. Rappers like PK Shellboy tackle this duality with striking self-awareness, as inner demons wrestle with outer depictions of the self. You hear it in the abrupt, obtuse gambol of 'Babyfat's' chorus, usurping difficult concepts with a mind-numbing dance number.
These ideas are what separates good Sound Collage artists from great ones. Unfortunately, Material Girl isn't there yet, as the clunkiness of Drujjha sputters when attempting to define its whole. Singular ideas are almost always engaging and riveting, whether it's 'Material Girl Meets The Devil Pt. 2's' unorthodox assemblage of 80's underground fanfare (Post-Punk, Outsider House, Minimal Wave), or the flurry of hyperactive percussion that follows the "my name is Material Girl" sample on 'Dogs.' Even the somber moments, like the lugubrious, piano-driven finales of 'We Both Know It's True' and 'Dogs' provide lasting impact through subtle serenity, much akin to Yves Tumor's early works. However, there's no avoiding the elephant in the room, and that's the flat sound eroding five whole minutes of 'We Both Know It's True.' It derails momentum, not just for Drujjha, but the two excellent pieces separated by a sea within the movement itself. Like many similar examples (Coin Locker Kid's 'Alandaluz.' comes to mind), it's meant to elicit a reaction without providing an outlet for escape. Read: Pretentious experimentalist oversteps his own pertinence.
'We Both Know It's True' can, however, be forgiven when the surrounding material provides much to revel in. The interlude and closer fail to accentuate Drujjha's composite whole, providing more questions than answers, but in terms of typical mixtape content, one can't go wrong with such scrambled peculiarities. You won't leave indifferent; Material Girl makes sure of that.
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