Raps fuming echolalia has always produced a tension between creative expression and adherence to a set of extrinsic psychocultural narratives (bling!). Change orientated collectives like Rick Ruben protegees public enemy or proto realists Arrested Development have historically struggled with the ironic shackles of this most post colonial of genres. On this press Dangermouse forges a Gidensian third way through a bumblingly savage mastery of postronic protools mash-hip. With wicked savancy, mouse crams the feudal materialism of Z’s ultimate stomp shuffling ghetto autobiography, with the melodic mendacity and psychotropic reflexivity of the late era fab four.
Result, a biblically epic mythology, networks of jump cut rhythm patterns that undermine yet underline J’s Tennysonesque cadence lilting ferrous reimagining of psychedelic as funk riveted future sound of London. Mouse breaks the grime cacked mold of rap and mungs the festering pop skinned corpse of classic
rock, scrawling in dissonant ineloquence a grand repost to the 8 bit reductionism of rival contenders to the imperial throne of future music. Eponymous.
