The internet moves fast.
It is merely a coincidence that these pages appear on the world wide web
At the speed of memes this author does not operate. The songs that follows, on the contrary, is moved at the pace of a viral sensation; that dangerous place where colors no longer hold meaning. Released by the Agualva-Cacém based Bvdz Records - an equidistant twelves miles from Lisbon proper and the hometown for a soccer club with their logo's cousin as a mascot - "Praga Stress" comes from a producer new to the enterprise. Album length (and available to download in .wav file formatting) Caveira Negra's debut effort would seem foreign to the middle Kardashian, but should be considered a likely candidate to make her internet breaking lower shake to the beat.
The song below is a batida, albeit one that has undergone some careful alteration. Stylistically, "Praga Stress" rests somewhere between afro-house and techno. Not unlike Karfox, for example, Caveira Negra uses samples is a Detroit sort of way. A more precise, albeit less scientific, approach would be to simply call the song busy. Between eleven and thirteen different elements are heard at one point or another. In all reality, that number is slightly higher. Regardless, the central beat is essentially kuduro's digital snare. While a whistle syncopates on odd notes - alternating with a higher and lower pitched male vocal samples - claps join the bass on hitting quarter notes. Scraper and hand drum play a prevalent role as well.
Very strong track from a seemingly unknown beat-maker. Perhaps most surprising, though, is the sheer amount of music in a single track. Within the span of three-minutes, listeners are treated to three separate verse sections in addition to the song's head.
Notable Mention: Dj Locks - "Sempre a dar Carga"
The second features, in the interest of honest, appears in this spot arbitrarily. Due to the simple fact that the sold is older - released just over a week ago - it is relegated into notable mention status.
Ironically, released just over a week ago "Pikeeeee" stands up the the song featured above. And inspite of a proportionally long introduction, Dj locks creates a deceivingly quick batida with minute shorter runtime. Built around a hi-hat/snare kuduro beat, the song has a similar afro-house/techno make-up nonetheless. Two different vocals syncopate in addition to woodblock and scraper. The track is busy, but more impressively "Pikeee" neither overwhelms nor bores. Only one genuinely novel element - not a variant - is included after the head in the form of a melodica melody. Otherwise, the B.N.M. beat-maker , for example, removes drums, alternates the bass, and provides a formidable drums break transition between segments. Well worth the download.
- J.N.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Dj Cachorro - "Xilola (feat. Puto Prata)"
Ignore the music. Forget about the Dj
The real star in is the cell-phone in the picture.
Released yesterday, "Xilola" was uploaded to SoundCloud in the same manner as all of Dj Cachorro's songs: with his photogenic Android device. The intent, however, is not to mock neither song or the aristt. A mid-tempo afro-house, that track features male kizomba vocals care of careful crooning from Puto Prata. The style sounds, to the author, though, similar to coladeiras as well Slow and ballad in character of the singing does not affect the track's energy. Built around the "Botão" rhythm, Cachorro elegantly variates with hi-hat, additional percussion following the initial sixteen in the form of a shaker and woodblocks. A faint synth offers elevates the harmony. The track is full bodied by the time the guitar melody begins; a horn section making the occasional appearance. Structurally, the song is interesting as well. Following a three-bar, two-tier introduction, Puto Prata appears for a brief interlude. The song them progresses as such: Chorus (-vox) - Verse - Chorus - Bridge (+vox) - Chorus - Verse (-vox) - Chorus
Traditional elements are part of the Luanda-based Dj's repertoire, although vocals are typically different. A very, very strong track.
Notable Mention: Homeboys & DJ Jeff Afrozila "Reborn"
Yesterday was loud. But strong meme day side, some select sound broke through the cybe static. Of special note is Angolan/Portuguese Dj Jeff Afrozila and the two-minutes of music credited to him. Jazzy with a strong sense of disco, Afrozila tends to lean more towards the house than the afro on the dance continuum. The grooves, though, cannot be denied. Percussive explorer all the while, the sound is fearless.
What follows, is no more than a teaser; hence the apparent relegation ro notable mention states. The first cut, a track titled, "Together Tonight (feat. Oveous)" is a mid-tempo afro-house with an electric guitar melody reminiscent of funana. Vocals are in english and a bassline that sounds out of the Weather Report play. While the strong, the second beat was soundly superior. Featuring Homeboyz, "Reborn," is a mid-tempo batuco built around a snare rhythm. Vocal on third notes and the steady sound of the shekere provide swing as an electric guitar usurps harmony; maintaining the Cabo Verde theme allthewhile. The track is so strong the flute is almost not worth mentioning
- J.N.
The real star in is the cell-phone in the picture.
Released yesterday, "Xilola" was uploaded to SoundCloud in the same manner as all of Dj Cachorro's songs: with his photogenic Android device. The intent, however, is not to mock neither song or the aristt. A mid-tempo afro-house, that track features male kizomba vocals care of careful crooning from Puto Prata. The style sounds, to the author, though, similar to coladeiras as well Slow and ballad in character of the singing does not affect the track's energy. Built around the "Botão" rhythm, Cachorro elegantly variates with hi-hat, additional percussion following the initial sixteen in the form of a shaker and woodblocks. A faint synth offers elevates the harmony. The track is full bodied by the time the guitar melody begins; a horn section making the occasional appearance. Structurally, the song is interesting as well. Following a three-bar, two-tier introduction, Puto Prata appears for a brief interlude. The song them progresses as such: Chorus (-vox) - Verse - Chorus - Bridge (+vox) - Chorus - Verse (-vox) - Chorus
Traditional elements are part of the Luanda-based Dj's repertoire, although vocals are typically different. A very, very strong track.
Notable Mention: Homeboys & DJ Jeff Afrozila "Reborn"
Yesterday was loud. But strong meme day side, some select sound broke through the cybe static. Of special note is Angolan/Portuguese Dj Jeff Afrozila and the two-minutes of music credited to him. Jazzy with a strong sense of disco, Afrozila tends to lean more towards the house than the afro on the dance continuum. The grooves, though, cannot be denied. Percussive explorer all the while, the sound is fearless.
What follows, is no more than a teaser; hence the apparent relegation ro notable mention states. The first cut, a track titled, "Together Tonight (feat. Oveous)" is a mid-tempo afro-house with an electric guitar melody reminiscent of funana. Vocals are in english and a bassline that sounds out of the Weather Report play. While the strong, the second beat was soundly superior. Featuring Homeboyz, "Reborn," is a mid-tempo batuco built around a snare rhythm. Vocal on third notes and the steady sound of the shekere provide swing as an electric guitar usurps harmony; maintaining the Cabo Verde theme allthewhile. The track is so strong the flute is almost not worth mentioning
- J.N.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Chris Crack [newdealcrew] - "Pourlandia"
Order a Jack, hold the Coke; preferably of the Mexican variety.
Which is to say, the hip-hop gods must be crazy.
In the eye of this new release storm, any a momentary calm provides solace. The frenzy, however, is sure to continue. Three significant releases, all coincidentally from Chicago, come to mind . Glo-land's own Chief Keef released the soporific Sorry 4 the Weight first, followed by SD the God and Life of a Savage 4. But then, another slightly less drill sound - more soul-trap - appeared, care of the talented Mr. Tree.
Including but not limited to "Hunneds and Fifties," Trap Genius iswell worth repeated listens. But it is from the rubble left by the above track that this Wavy Reverend emerges with "More noggin' than Nickelodeon".
Three days later the New Crew Deal spitter, Chris Crack, shares the latest addition to his recent loosie collection. Each joint has featured a different producer, save for two credits for Tmthy Trtl. At any rate, "Pourlandia," is no exception."
The slow-tempo ride/snare rhythm comes care of Boathouse. The beat eventually changes into a kick/snare variant while miscellaneous percussion dips in and out. Synth carries the harmony duties throughout the run. Meanwhile, guitar maintains the melody; each sample, unable to be identified by the author, serves well in whetting the jazz fusion. Bass, for its part, rumbles quietly on odd beats. Chimes and other miscellaneous samples appear briefly, before the track is ultimately given dose of syrup.
Crackavelli eloquently makes a case for media takeover on "Rap Landlord (Prod. by Ray White)", and provides closing arguments on the hookless, quick sixteen of "Pourlandia." Typically armed with elborate, quick flow, "From the West side, not where the boppin' be," Crack instead spins a more relaxed, stream of consciousness yarn with some boasting for good measure; not unlike on "Flossin (Prod. Tmthy Trtl)."
Another quality release, as should be expected, providing some words of wisdom, if nothing else: "Every day is Friday / Get the top knocked up off the muffin"
Notable Mention: Alex Wilex feat. Kembe X
Released a day ago is another loosie from Chicago. While just outside the window of relevance, "Right Right (Prod. by Hippie Sabotage)" is worth bringing up for the features if nothing else. Hippie Sabotage was, after all, responsible for two strong track off Wiley's 2014 mixtape Village Party. For his part, Kembe X is a frequent collaborator with a similar buckshot flow; aggressive, difficult to predict, and randomly spread.
In any case, out of one hundred hypothetical RIYL's for the song that follows, at least ninety would include Chance the Rapper and Vic Mensa and points of reference.
- J.N.
Which is to say, the hip-hop gods must be crazy.
In the eye of this new release storm, any a momentary calm provides solace. The frenzy, however, is sure to continue. Three significant releases, all coincidentally from Chicago, come to mind . Glo-land's own Chief Keef released the soporific Sorry 4 the Weight first, followed by SD the God and Life of a Savage 4. But then, another slightly less drill sound - more soul-trap - appeared, care of the talented Mr. Tree.
Including but not limited to "Hunneds and Fifties," Trap Genius iswell worth repeated listens. But it is from the rubble left by the above track that this Wavy Reverend emerges with "More noggin' than Nickelodeon".
Three days later the New Crew Deal spitter, Chris Crack, shares the latest addition to his recent loosie collection. Each joint has featured a different producer, save for two credits for Tmthy Trtl. At any rate, "Pourlandia," is no exception."
The slow-tempo ride/snare rhythm comes care of Boathouse. The beat eventually changes into a kick/snare variant while miscellaneous percussion dips in and out. Synth carries the harmony duties throughout the run. Meanwhile, guitar maintains the melody; each sample, unable to be identified by the author, serves well in whetting the jazz fusion. Bass, for its part, rumbles quietly on odd beats. Chimes and other miscellaneous samples appear briefly, before the track is ultimately given dose of syrup.
Crackavelli eloquently makes a case for media takeover on "Rap Landlord (Prod. by Ray White)", and provides closing arguments on the hookless, quick sixteen of "Pourlandia." Typically armed with elborate, quick flow, "From the West side, not where the boppin' be," Crack instead spins a more relaxed, stream of consciousness yarn with some boasting for good measure; not unlike on "Flossin (Prod. Tmthy Trtl)."
Another quality release, as should be expected, providing some words of wisdom, if nothing else: "Every day is Friday / Get the top knocked up off the muffin"
Notable Mention: Alex Wilex feat. Kembe X
Released a day ago is another loosie from Chicago. While just outside the window of relevance, "Right Right (Prod. by Hippie Sabotage)" is worth bringing up for the features if nothing else. Hippie Sabotage was, after all, responsible for two strong track off Wiley's 2014 mixtape Village Party. For his part, Kembe X is a frequent collaborator with a similar buckshot flow; aggressive, difficult to predict, and randomly spread.
In any case, out of one hundred hypothetical RIYL's for the song that follows, at least ninety would include Chance the Rapper and Vic Mensa and points of reference.
- J.N.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Status Report: State of the Blog
Each patch orange and white seems familiar in a similar way. With any form, and lacking definite shape, each figure seems to be a terrible recollection of a far-away dream.
Memories, it seems, work is strange and varied ways. A select whiffs, for instance, can jog the memory unlike anything else. Yet that covetous object remains too far to grab; perhaps an in further than what can be reached. The time and place are recalled - almost as if that space and moment is being lived in once again. But nothing, it seems, is ready to stare back. All that remains are the strange looking shapes of both orange and white.
Alas, dear reader, pay no heed to the ominous tone. Contrary to what has already been written, spirits are high. All is well at the offices Noggle Brain Trust, LLP. As is typically the case, hot coffee is brewing. Both the music and the smoke are deafeningly loud and have already begun bleeding into the immediate surroundings. Each and every sound wave sagaciously slither across the panorama while a delicate smoke spins around itself before dissipating into the air. Privileged perhaps, but the world itself has yet to issue a formal complaint.
Much like any other day - sitting at the foot of a light-colored, wooden desk by window, Groucho Marx peeking his head from behind a wiry, black metal desk lamp - a careful routine is carried out; and with any luck, writing will follow. If hope prevails, a steady tapping sound will be heard in betwixt the sound spilling from the speaker on the desk's back corners. Words diligently appear on the screen, then disappear, and finally re-appear in a slightly different form. On the best of days, the keyboard develops a rhythm all its own. The author, meanwhile, has begun staring off into the expanse of the white walls that surround him. Eventually this mind will rejoin its body. Until then, fluid finger guide thoughts from the crown of the author's mind, through insulated wiring, and into physical being.
But the colors cannot be ignored. Out on the fringes, steadily causing each passer-by fright, are shade of each: orange and white. Sinewed reflections of light fortifying their earthy presence and the colors preferred this season.
In Arizona, pupils are passively prepared and problem probably follow. These wards to the department of education have already spent two months in the classroom this year. Children in the Grand Canyon state, however, are among those least funded in the country. So while the following is meant to serve as a reminder, it may be an lesson in and of itself.
After all, each student is required to know Arizona's history before enrolling in secondary school. Criticism, though, is common. Ethnic background is just as likely to determine the lesson as well as the quality of instruction. But the truth is complex, and in place of a curriculum is, instead, a neatly packaged political narrative. Veracity is an ever fleeting force. Controversy is the only certitude as students become the very lesson they were meant to be taught. Then again, such is the nature of the forty-eighth state, where each one Hecates' faces is pulling in a different direction.
Uncontroversial - or at least beyond substantive discussion - are the state's "five C's," Each contribution to the list describes a staple of the state;s economy. Of the five, cattle, copper, and climate are, of course, the least visible. Relevance, however, is not a requirement. Car shows and trade conference tend to appear a-plenty and neither, as of yet, as warranted being mentioned in a note as an honorable C. Regardless, each winter concludes in much the same. The tourism and hospitality industry rejoice as city streets are overrun for two, or three, straight months; a sight well worthy of beholding. Each facet of the culture becomes enveloped in the procedures. The author has even tumbleweeds and saguaros - identities maintained anonymous journalistic purposes - discuss the sudden lack of open space to which they had previously been accustomed.
The remaining two C's are both common sights. Citrus and cotton both bloom at much the same time; and each proves to be the source for those ubiquitous colors. The sight of orange and white, nonetheless, brings with it a certain comfort. Once oranges and grapefruits overrun residential areas, it feels as though another a routine is not suddenly complete. With this new found recognition, the colors usher in a new chapter. The order of things - whatever it may be - has been calibrated. Change, it may be, is the world's only constant; citrus and cotton, however, provide some harmless continuity.
What does not, and cannot change, and the hues across the morning Phoenix skyline. Out on the periphery, orange and white loom large.
It should be noted that citrus must be picked. Once matured, and these fruits reach the ground level, none can be left unattended. On less than a day's notice roof rats would be sure appear.The message is clear: tend to old business, lest it rot in place, in which case vermin will tend to it first.
For its part, cotton provides a soft, breathable material with which to make clothes. The raw good, however, is of no practical use when sitting in a dirt field. Seeds must be put through a mill; fiber passed through a gin.. Be that as it may, another lesson is now evident. In order to produce something, anything, new, wanton work is required.
The return to the light-wooden desk, now, is graceful. Since this thought process started, the sun outside this window has set; even becoming bashful. Similarly, wild inconsistency has followed B-Side A-Hole since its inception. What began as a a stated purpose merely paved a road and results were ambitious, if not senselessly long. Alas, an idea became clear to the author: self-motivated writing could be accomplished.
Needless to say, wn astonishing amount of work, is required in order to be in anyway "good." As a result, writing has not always been easy. Seldom has the author even ventured to call the activity "fun." At the time of this writing, pleasure seems fittingly fleeting; fulfillment is another matter entirely. Still, writing itself has proved itself to be worthy of investing the limited resources of time and energy.
It just so happened that the author was unprepared (or unwilling) following to maintain consistency. A hiatus would now ensue. Abandoning the infracture - expensive and heavy - seemed foolish nonetheless. It was for this reason, then, that the project commenced once again. Abandoned pieces were recovered and a modifed goal was kept in mind: concision and frequency. A fresh routine was established and gleeful repetition unexpectedly reached.
But colors orange and white have once again appear. A change in approach and vision, each with utmost precision, is desperately needed.
It should be noted, that two such natural world routine have passed since the inauguration of B-Side A-Hole; the completion there of a cycle. Like controversy to Arizona, winter events in snow-free destinations, and the appearance of orange and white, it would only make sense if these pages followed in those footsteps tonight. The author feel his ability to grow and improve within the craft has not yet dissipated. Learning only subsides if the mind becomes complicit.
Such is the case when reflecting on the project at hand. Like oil it water, it does not trouble to rise toward the surface.
An audience is important in form of expression. Rarely, though, has B-Side A-Hole catered to any outsiders' needs or interests. ny and all writing that has appeared on these pages has been created with the intention of pleasing on one person: the author himself. A change in approach must occur. From this point forward, posts will be take-on a friendlier, short-form appearance. A focused subject matter will hopefully continue as approach is diversified. In addition to a higher volume of - lest the dreaded word be omitted - content, medium-length form will be reserved for more exclusive works. Long-form contributions, however, will continue to the sparse and varied. The remaining drafts for medium-length posts, though, will be completed and published soon.
Furthermore, it seems that a thank you is well in order. For some time now, although more rigorously in the past six months, the author has been instructed in the art under the tutelage of H. Terror Robinson, this site's editor in chief. Thus, appreciation of the highest order is reserved for this awesome and monumental figure. Without Robinson - who has agreed to expand his responsibilities into a more visible role - none of this would be possible. A second thank you is extended to all the musicians featured on these pages. A constant source of wonder and inspiration, without their contributions, the author would have much less to write about. Lastly, a careful acknowledgment must be given to the readers, with free will able to be exercised, who have nonetheless subjected themselves to these ramblings. The author very much appreciates your time and attention, and it is is for you that the promise toward improvement must be kept.
Until the next time orange and white set everything right.
- John Noggle
Memories, it seems, work is strange and varied ways. A select whiffs, for instance, can jog the memory unlike anything else. Yet that covetous object remains too far to grab; perhaps an in further than what can be reached. The time and place are recalled - almost as if that space and moment is being lived in once again. But nothing, it seems, is ready to stare back. All that remains are the strange looking shapes of both orange and white.
Alas, dear reader, pay no heed to the ominous tone. Contrary to what has already been written, spirits are high. All is well at the offices Noggle Brain Trust, LLP. As is typically the case, hot coffee is brewing. Both the music and the smoke are deafeningly loud and have already begun bleeding into the immediate surroundings. Each and every sound wave sagaciously slither across the panorama while a delicate smoke spins around itself before dissipating into the air. Privileged perhaps, but the world itself has yet to issue a formal complaint.
Much like any other day - sitting at the foot of a light-colored, wooden desk by window, Groucho Marx peeking his head from behind a wiry, black metal desk lamp - a careful routine is carried out; and with any luck, writing will follow. If hope prevails, a steady tapping sound will be heard in betwixt the sound spilling from the speaker on the desk's back corners. Words diligently appear on the screen, then disappear, and finally re-appear in a slightly different form. On the best of days, the keyboard develops a rhythm all its own. The author, meanwhile, has begun staring off into the expanse of the white walls that surround him. Eventually this mind will rejoin its body. Until then, fluid finger guide thoughts from the crown of the author's mind, through insulated wiring, and into physical being.
But the colors cannot be ignored. Out on the fringes, steadily causing each passer-by fright, are shade of each: orange and white. Sinewed reflections of light fortifying their earthy presence and the colors preferred this season.
In Arizona, pupils are passively prepared and problem probably follow. These wards to the department of education have already spent two months in the classroom this year. Children in the Grand Canyon state, however, are among those least funded in the country. So while the following is meant to serve as a reminder, it may be an lesson in and of itself.
After all, each student is required to know Arizona's history before enrolling in secondary school. Criticism, though, is common. Ethnic background is just as likely to determine the lesson as well as the quality of instruction. But the truth is complex, and in place of a curriculum is, instead, a neatly packaged political narrative. Veracity is an ever fleeting force. Controversy is the only certitude as students become the very lesson they were meant to be taught. Then again, such is the nature of the forty-eighth state, where each one Hecates' faces is pulling in a different direction.
Uncontroversial - or at least beyond substantive discussion - are the state's "five C's," Each contribution to the list describes a staple of the state;s economy. Of the five, cattle, copper, and climate are, of course, the least visible. Relevance, however, is not a requirement. Car shows and trade conference tend to appear a-plenty and neither, as of yet, as warranted being mentioned in a note as an honorable C. Regardless, each winter concludes in much the same. The tourism and hospitality industry rejoice as city streets are overrun for two, or three, straight months; a sight well worthy of beholding. Each facet of the culture becomes enveloped in the procedures. The author has even tumbleweeds and saguaros - identities maintained anonymous journalistic purposes - discuss the sudden lack of open space to which they had previously been accustomed.
The remaining two C's are both common sights. Citrus and cotton both bloom at much the same time; and each proves to be the source for those ubiquitous colors. The sight of orange and white, nonetheless, brings with it a certain comfort. Once oranges and grapefruits overrun residential areas, it feels as though another a routine is not suddenly complete. With this new found recognition, the colors usher in a new chapter. The order of things - whatever it may be - has been calibrated. Change, it may be, is the world's only constant; citrus and cotton, however, provide some harmless continuity.
What does not, and cannot change, and the hues across the morning Phoenix skyline. Out on the periphery, orange and white loom large.
It should be noted that citrus must be picked. Once matured, and these fruits reach the ground level, none can be left unattended. On less than a day's notice roof rats would be sure appear.The message is clear: tend to old business, lest it rot in place, in which case vermin will tend to it first.
For its part, cotton provides a soft, breathable material with which to make clothes. The raw good, however, is of no practical use when sitting in a dirt field. Seeds must be put through a mill; fiber passed through a gin.. Be that as it may, another lesson is now evident. In order to produce something, anything, new, wanton work is required.
The return to the light-wooden desk, now, is graceful. Since this thought process started, the sun outside this window has set; even becoming bashful. Similarly, wild inconsistency has followed B-Side A-Hole since its inception. What began as a a stated purpose merely paved a road and results were ambitious, if not senselessly long. Alas, an idea became clear to the author: self-motivated writing could be accomplished.
Needless to say, wn astonishing amount of work, is required in order to be in anyway "good." As a result, writing has not always been easy. Seldom has the author even ventured to call the activity "fun." At the time of this writing, pleasure seems fittingly fleeting; fulfillment is another matter entirely. Still, writing itself has proved itself to be worthy of investing the limited resources of time and energy.
It just so happened that the author was unprepared (or unwilling) following to maintain consistency. A hiatus would now ensue. Abandoning the infracture - expensive and heavy - seemed foolish nonetheless. It was for this reason, then, that the project commenced once again. Abandoned pieces were recovered and a modifed goal was kept in mind: concision and frequency. A fresh routine was established and gleeful repetition unexpectedly reached.
But colors orange and white have once again appear. A change in approach and vision, each with utmost precision, is desperately needed.
It should be noted, that two such natural world routine have passed since the inauguration of B-Side A-Hole; the completion there of a cycle. Like controversy to Arizona, winter events in snow-free destinations, and the appearance of orange and white, it would only make sense if these pages followed in those footsteps tonight. The author feel his ability to grow and improve within the craft has not yet dissipated. Learning only subsides if the mind becomes complicit.
Such is the case when reflecting on the project at hand. Like oil it water, it does not trouble to rise toward the surface.
An audience is important in form of expression. Rarely, though, has B-Side A-Hole catered to any outsiders' needs or interests. ny and all writing that has appeared on these pages has been created with the intention of pleasing on one person: the author himself. A change in approach must occur. From this point forward, posts will be take-on a friendlier, short-form appearance. A focused subject matter will hopefully continue as approach is diversified. In addition to a higher volume of - lest the dreaded word be omitted - content, medium-length form will be reserved for more exclusive works. Long-form contributions, however, will continue to the sparse and varied. The remaining drafts for medium-length posts, though, will be completed and published soon.
Furthermore, it seems that a thank you is well in order. For some time now, although more rigorously in the past six months, the author has been instructed in the art under the tutelage of H. Terror Robinson, this site's editor in chief. Thus, appreciation of the highest order is reserved for this awesome and monumental figure. Without Robinson - who has agreed to expand his responsibilities into a more visible role - none of this would be possible. A second thank you is extended to all the musicians featured on these pages. A constant source of wonder and inspiration, without their contributions, the author would have much less to write about. Lastly, a careful acknowledgment must be given to the readers, with free will able to be exercised, who have nonetheless subjected themselves to these ramblings. The author very much appreciates your time and attention, and it is is for you that the promise toward improvement must be kept.
Until the next time orange and white set everything right.
- John Noggle
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Dj LiloCox [CDM] & Dj MaBoOku [CDM] - "Safadas da Noite"
Controversy is a constantly changing game.
At no point in the past have rabble-rousers, malcontents, and trolls at large been more disadvantaged.
Suddenly, form is essential. Generating attention in this changing media landscape is not, and cannot, be the designated work of mere amateurs. Bygone are simpler days; call in the professionals. No one is calling for Herbert Hoover again, but keeping the ice-rink's meanest pipe swingers on payroll is equally as passe. This is a post white bronco world - mechanical or otherwise - and hype is no longer a commodity so much as a luxury. Reconsider the electric razor, dismiss the photographers, and a cease contacting that former child star.
For a purposive picture-perfect freak out, just find the ugliest part of your body, and expose it.
Buzz, though, can be all in a name. Look no further than the Mothers of Inventions. Musical innovators in their own right, the proverbial envelope-pushing group was continually plagued by standards of decency. Yet, Zappa's band allowed the body of work to speak for itself. Which, coincidentally, is also the case for a different pair of Mothers.
Made up of MaboOku and LiloCox, Casa da Mãe leads a humble existence despite being heir apparents. As with most greatness, quality is at a maximum even if effort seems to be a a minimum; a talent in and of itself; immaculately mastered, impulsively tempered, and unrestrained by scene conventions. Yet no proper CDM release has been spotted since October's. The most recent track - a melodically flamboyant, percussively diverse, and intestine disrupting solo effort LiloCox - continued the duo's Afro-house turn. For his part, MaboOku was featured with a mix on the pages of FACT prior to the end of last year. Meanwhile, the world continues to catch up.
But, the author digresses, CDM has started 2015 on an obscene note. The first single from the upcoming "Malucos da Raiz EP" is an uncompromising tarraxo. Like Zappa in Baltimore, what begins as woman breathing heavily escalates quickly. The structure on "Safadas da Noite" is unusually direct: Introduction-A-interlude-B-C-A. The contents, however, are delightfully dense. The snare/clap beat on the introduction mutates into a cacophonous collection. Soon after, the baseboard begins crashing into the wall. A bubbly-synth enters the melody, otherwise carried by a percussive string instrument, on third notes. For the verse sections, LiloCox and MaboOku bring with thjem a more typical, nearly zouk beat built around a combination snare/kick. Alongside new syncopated vocals is a harmonic synth. Pay no heed to the chain in the corner; it is best not to mind the small things. Plus, the pair has promptly returned to the start.
As the saying go: there is no such thing as bad publicity. The kind of publicity that comes from a good and consistent body of work, though, cannot be fabricated; and it just so happens the after a couple of months, CDM remains ahead of everyone else.
- John Noggle
At no point in the past have rabble-rousers, malcontents, and trolls at large been more disadvantaged.
Suddenly, form is essential. Generating attention in this changing media landscape is not, and cannot, be the designated work of mere amateurs. Bygone are simpler days; call in the professionals. No one is calling for Herbert Hoover again, but keeping the ice-rink's meanest pipe swingers on payroll is equally as passe. This is a post white bronco world - mechanical or otherwise - and hype is no longer a commodity so much as a luxury. Reconsider the electric razor, dismiss the photographers, and a cease contacting that former child star.
For a purposive picture-perfect freak out, just find the ugliest part of your body, and expose it.
Buzz, though, can be all in a name. Look no further than the Mothers of Inventions. Musical innovators in their own right, the proverbial envelope-pushing group was continually plagued by standards of decency. Yet, Zappa's band allowed the body of work to speak for itself. Which, coincidentally, is also the case for a different pair of Mothers.
Made up of MaboOku and LiloCox, Casa da Mãe leads a humble existence despite being heir apparents. As with most greatness, quality is at a maximum even if effort seems to be a a minimum; a talent in and of itself; immaculately mastered, impulsively tempered, and unrestrained by scene conventions. Yet no proper CDM release has been spotted since October's. The most recent track - a melodically flamboyant, percussively diverse, and intestine disrupting solo effort LiloCox - continued the duo's Afro-house turn. For his part, MaboOku was featured with a mix on the pages of FACT prior to the end of last year. Meanwhile, the world continues to catch up.
But, the author digresses, CDM has started 2015 on an obscene note. The first single from the upcoming "Malucos da Raiz EP" is an uncompromising tarraxo. Like Zappa in Baltimore, what begins as woman breathing heavily escalates quickly. The structure on "Safadas da Noite" is unusually direct: Introduction-A-interlude-B-C-A. The contents, however, are delightfully dense. The snare/clap beat on the introduction mutates into a cacophonous collection. Soon after, the baseboard begins crashing into the wall. A bubbly-synth enters the melody, otherwise carried by a percussive string instrument, on third notes. For the verse sections, LiloCox and MaboOku bring with thjem a more typical, nearly zouk beat built around a combination snare/kick. Alongside new syncopated vocals is a harmonic synth. Pay no heed to the chain in the corner; it is best not to mind the small things. Plus, the pair has promptly returned to the start.
As the saying go: there is no such thing as bad publicity. The kind of publicity that comes from a good and consistent body of work, though, cannot be fabricated; and it just so happens the after a couple of months, CDM remains ahead of everyone else.
- John Noggle
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
African Genasis - Two Remixes for "CoCo"
Mute the television. Turn off the radio. Most importantly, stay away from the picture house because
While an inviting location for a date, perhaps, nothing shown within them bares any truth.
Ignore the media: salacious swine swindlers. The words above, as well as those that follow, have been chosen to be both pugnacious and poignant. Time, after all, is of the essence. Valentine's day is fast approaching. This is not, however, a bitter screed. But, writers, directors - entertainers at large really - should have no stake it defining true romance. Tarantino, Christian Slater, and a stoned Brad Pitt aside, there is no correlation between apologies and affection. Females may enjoy the company precious stones, but friendship with inanimate objects is riddled with shortcomings. Only some like it hot, but everyone enjoys a warm body.
There is no secret; no game can be won; after all, it was the street entrepreneur, Baby Jones, that said, "Pimping ain't no game of love."
At first it may seem that this California rapper is a boisterous businessman following in the same vein as Iceberg Slim. Asking Cupid for financial advice is one thing, but acting impulsively on the words of this winged wielder of arrows is another matter entirely. Plus, Investing in chocolate as a commodity seems preposterous on the surface.
Upon further inspection, it appears that the author has made a mistake. Genasis does not love the cocoa. Much more accurate to the discussion might be a white girl who name is actually Coco. Far from an exercise in subtext, however, "CoCo" is driven by a strong trap beat care of Juice the Producer. Over a hi-hat/snare rhythm and 4/4 bell a grandiose four beat melody is maintained. The effects used as transitional cues - mainly synth fills - may be typical, but the MC's delivery keeps listeners engaged. Reminiscent of earlier Sosa tracks, the words are easy to repeat whether at a club or elsewhere. The hook is hard to shake, not unlike a spurned lover, and the operatic bridge invites any interested party to partake.
The following remix does not mislead. Unlike most people on a first date, this afro-house track presents itself exactly as advertised. Immediately, a new, snare-centric beat is heard. The four to the floor bass pounds away. Any and all opposition shall be swayed into a trance. On "CoCo (Angoastral Dub)" Breyth re-imagines the O.T. Genasis single. While the new version remains still heavily indebted to the original, two sections are rotated. Hip-hop, after all, does not typically feature scrapers. Likewise, first and third beat hitches from a tambourine are seldom heard. The melody and bell, however, are central to the song. During interlude and transitions, Breyth relies on playing the original ad nauseum while the body portions features two looped manipulations of the chorus; if nothing else, a testament to the resourcefulness of the DJ. Although it may not stand on its own, the number is very enjoyable and a proficient extension.
The once downloadable song - the pre-set limit already having been reached featured below is a different matter entirely; and for good reason. Luxembourg based, DJ Mulatoh has fixed himself a banger. Rhythmically intersection with Breyth's afro-house creation, the similarities begin and end with the snare drum. Released two weeks earlier, and clocking with a minute and a half shorter run-time, Mulatoh's track is a fast kuduro. Only for context is O.T. Genasis heard throughout the first minute. Scenery now established, takes listeners on a tour through the five sections that make-up this remix. Slowly does the track build. The three note bass is undeniable. Vocals are chopped up in a juke manner as the producer digs for sounds more than words or mere syllables. A harmonic synth and syncopated scraper are introduced after the first interlude, followed by a drum fill transition and change in vocal sample. Listeners do not endure so much as survice. A second set of vocals is recalled to syncopate and a third to further add to the kuduro vibes. The song might as well be the unofficial anthem of Pleasure Town. A very, very good track worth the repeated listens
- John Noggle
While an inviting location for a date, perhaps, nothing shown within them bares any truth.
Ignore the media: salacious swine swindlers. The words above, as well as those that follow, have been chosen to be both pugnacious and poignant. Time, after all, is of the essence. Valentine's day is fast approaching. This is not, however, a bitter screed. But, writers, directors - entertainers at large really - should have no stake it defining true romance. Tarantino, Christian Slater, and a stoned Brad Pitt aside, there is no correlation between apologies and affection. Females may enjoy the company precious stones, but friendship with inanimate objects is riddled with shortcomings. Only some like it hot, but everyone enjoys a warm body.
There is no secret; no game can be won; after all, it was the street entrepreneur, Baby Jones, that said, "Pimping ain't no game of love."
At first it may seem that this California rapper is a boisterous businessman following in the same vein as Iceberg Slim. Asking Cupid for financial advice is one thing, but acting impulsively on the words of this winged wielder of arrows is another matter entirely. Plus, Investing in chocolate as a commodity seems preposterous on the surface.
Upon further inspection, it appears that the author has made a mistake. Genasis does not love the cocoa. Much more accurate to the discussion might be a white girl who name is actually Coco. Far from an exercise in subtext, however, "CoCo" is driven by a strong trap beat care of Juice the Producer. Over a hi-hat/snare rhythm and 4/4 bell a grandiose four beat melody is maintained. The effects used as transitional cues - mainly synth fills - may be typical, but the MC's delivery keeps listeners engaged. Reminiscent of earlier Sosa tracks, the words are easy to repeat whether at a club or elsewhere. The hook is hard to shake, not unlike a spurned lover, and the operatic bridge invites any interested party to partake.
The following remix does not mislead. Unlike most people on a first date, this afro-house track presents itself exactly as advertised. Immediately, a new, snare-centric beat is heard. The four to the floor bass pounds away. Any and all opposition shall be swayed into a trance. On "CoCo (Angoastral Dub)" Breyth re-imagines the O.T. Genasis single. While the new version remains still heavily indebted to the original, two sections are rotated. Hip-hop, after all, does not typically feature scrapers. Likewise, first and third beat hitches from a tambourine are seldom heard. The melody and bell, however, are central to the song. During interlude and transitions, Breyth relies on playing the original ad nauseum while the body portions features two looped manipulations of the chorus; if nothing else, a testament to the resourcefulness of the DJ. Although it may not stand on its own, the number is very enjoyable and a proficient extension.
The once downloadable song - the pre-set limit already having been reached featured below is a different matter entirely; and for good reason. Luxembourg based, DJ Mulatoh has fixed himself a banger. Rhythmically intersection with Breyth's afro-house creation, the similarities begin and end with the snare drum. Released two weeks earlier, and clocking with a minute and a half shorter run-time, Mulatoh's track is a fast kuduro. Only for context is O.T. Genasis heard throughout the first minute. Scenery now established, takes listeners on a tour through the five sections that make-up this remix. Slowly does the track build. The three note bass is undeniable. Vocals are chopped up in a juke manner as the producer digs for sounds more than words or mere syllables. A harmonic synth and syncopated scraper are introduced after the first interlude, followed by a drum fill transition and change in vocal sample. Listeners do not endure so much as survice. A second set of vocals is recalled to syncopate and a third to further add to the kuduro vibes. The song might as well be the unofficial anthem of Pleasure Town. A very, very good track worth the repeated listens
- John Noggle
Monday, February 9, 2015
dj kingfo0xx [BnPB] - "E do Ghetto Hot Nigga"
Free Bobby Shmurda. Free Rowdy Rebel. Free GS9.
An introduction by any other set of words seems, to the author, crass. Uncomfortable as the truth might be, it cannot be ignored. The current state of incarceration for the above entertainers is a matter of fact and, as was terribly typical of two-thousand and fourteen, riddled with complexity. If for no other reason, then, GS9 filled a void: uncompromised entertainment. In the viral vacuum where the video for "Hot N*gga," exists, only one trait is of important. The tune is meant to be anthemic, nothing more and nothing less; or so the song's stars explained on Ebro in the Morning.
Under the guise of honesty, res ipsa loquitur. More important, though, laissez les bons temps rouler. Wylin' is rarely wistful
The song is difficult to presumptuously parse. A reason must exist for why "Hot N*gga" boils blood pressures. With content that is neither deep nor necessarily heavy, Shmurda is granted the opportunity to effortlessly guide listeners through the beat, relying primarily on youthful exuberance. The main rhythm is aggressive. Constructed simply by a kick/snare foundation, however, Jahlil Beats makes sure the groove is not obscured. The only elaborate percussive element are sedate, hi-hat triplets distinct from drill or trap tracks. Similarly, the melody is direct. With a synth, air horn, and vocal sample the run's primary elements are slim. Hardly is there flamboyance beyond the performance itself.
If for no other reason, dancing frequently follows.
Assorted remixes, however, tell different tale; one of more tapered success. Follow-up projects have been inconsistent. But as French Montana showed, a winning strategy need not be convoluted. Sometimes all it takes is a line not unlike, "Pull up La Marina is a yacht n*gga / Skate off like a pirate with yo thot n*gga." Such was the case on the very good Gunplay freestyle, too, where Don Logan even gives a nod to the original with, "When a n*gga slide whole hood said they heard I did it / Threw the throwaways in the air like a Shmurda fitted." The rugged and raspy G Herbo gave the track some Chicago flare, but paying homage to a comrade presently doing twenty years for sticking to the code speaks to the common experience the song strikes at.
This is the most sensible approach: add a verse. An artist is able to establish relevance and legitimacy without impacting the track's quality. Not only is the original work's legacy richer with new textiles, but so is the vibrant quilt of intertwined culture it has already joined. Look no further than the excellent Modmon remix featuring Popcaan, Mavado, and Junior Reid. In spite of dancehall deliveries, the song does not change. The culture is universal. But it is for this reason that genre remixes do not work as well. Whether footwork or otherwise, attempts have been made to build off the original's cache. The idea is that a intersecting audience can be found by simply converting the song into a style it was not intended to be.
Regardless, the song (available for download) makes a noteworthy attempt at doing just that. Rather than converting Shmurda's banger, though, dj kingfo0xx opts to adapt it. Introduction retained, the dj allows listeners to be eased into a very fast batida. In the span of four bars, the Black 'n' Power Beats producer presents the two interchanging sections; the first providing eventual fodder for the verse. While bass is indebted to kuduro, this precise relationship eases the transition into the snare heavy rhythm. Syncopation is further found from typical sources. In addition, Jahlil Beat's vocal sample is kept and used harmonically; above a four-beat synth melody. The second section merely drops the additional percussion, as well as the synth synth, introducing in their place an altered hi-hat element. Surely, the beat-maker is technically proficient. But the track's greatest success is in inactivity. Shmurda's rapping is allowed while a new rhythm simply allows it be played in a new setting.
The story continues
- John Noggle
An introduction by any other set of words seems, to the author, crass. Uncomfortable as the truth might be, it cannot be ignored. The current state of incarceration for the above entertainers is a matter of fact and, as was terribly typical of two-thousand and fourteen, riddled with complexity. If for no other reason, then, GS9 filled a void: uncompromised entertainment. In the viral vacuum where the video for "Hot N*gga," exists, only one trait is of important. The tune is meant to be anthemic, nothing more and nothing less; or so the song's stars explained on Ebro in the Morning.
Under the guise of honesty, res ipsa loquitur. More important, though, laissez les bons temps rouler. Wylin' is rarely wistful
The song is difficult to presumptuously parse. A reason must exist for why "Hot N*gga" boils blood pressures. With content that is neither deep nor necessarily heavy, Shmurda is granted the opportunity to effortlessly guide listeners through the beat, relying primarily on youthful exuberance. The main rhythm is aggressive. Constructed simply by a kick/snare foundation, however, Jahlil Beats makes sure the groove is not obscured. The only elaborate percussive element are sedate, hi-hat triplets distinct from drill or trap tracks. Similarly, the melody is direct. With a synth, air horn, and vocal sample the run's primary elements are slim. Hardly is there flamboyance beyond the performance itself.
If for no other reason, dancing frequently follows.
Assorted remixes, however, tell different tale; one of more tapered success. Follow-up projects have been inconsistent. But as French Montana showed, a winning strategy need not be convoluted. Sometimes all it takes is a line not unlike, "Pull up La Marina is a yacht n*gga / Skate off like a pirate with yo thot n*gga." Such was the case on the very good Gunplay freestyle, too, where Don Logan even gives a nod to the original with, "When a n*gga slide whole hood said they heard I did it / Threw the throwaways in the air like a Shmurda fitted." The rugged and raspy G Herbo gave the track some Chicago flare, but paying homage to a comrade presently doing twenty years for sticking to the code speaks to the common experience the song strikes at.
This is the most sensible approach: add a verse. An artist is able to establish relevance and legitimacy without impacting the track's quality. Not only is the original work's legacy richer with new textiles, but so is the vibrant quilt of intertwined culture it has already joined. Look no further than the excellent Modmon remix featuring Popcaan, Mavado, and Junior Reid. In spite of dancehall deliveries, the song does not change. The culture is universal. But it is for this reason that genre remixes do not work as well. Whether footwork or otherwise, attempts have been made to build off the original's cache. The idea is that a intersecting audience can be found by simply converting the song into a style it was not intended to be.
Regardless, the song (available for download) makes a noteworthy attempt at doing just that. Rather than converting Shmurda's banger, though, dj kingfo0xx opts to adapt it. Introduction retained, the dj allows listeners to be eased into a very fast batida. In the span of four bars, the Black 'n' Power Beats producer presents the two interchanging sections; the first providing eventual fodder for the verse. While bass is indebted to kuduro, this precise relationship eases the transition into the snare heavy rhythm. Syncopation is further found from typical sources. In addition, Jahlil Beat's vocal sample is kept and used harmonically; above a four-beat synth melody. The second section merely drops the additional percussion, as well as the synth synth, introducing in their place an altered hi-hat element. Surely, the beat-maker is technically proficient. But the track's greatest success is in inactivity. Shmurda's rapping is allowed while a new rhythm simply allows it be played in a new setting.
The story continues
- John Noggle
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
DJ Spoko - "War Neva End (feat. Samuel Turpin)"
Fall in soldiers. Now hand...salute.
Mars is a military man who has given the service his all The Roman God of War has nothing to be ashamed about.
Mars' career was nothing short of divine. Spotless, however, it was not. Salting the earth at Carthage was extreme. Then again Julius Caesar was not quite an ambassador of goodwill either. Mistakes were made. Atrocities were committed. Walls were certainly built; and within them rests the war god's timeless legacy. Look no further than the the deity's resume. The 'v' in Mars's CV actually stands for 'Victory.' But nothing, not even the immortals, are meant to live forever. Time, that cruel mistress, has come: Mars is set to retire, joining the ranks of Ares, Horus, and Odin. A teary, farewell press conference is in the works
Vaya con dios, Marte.
Fortunately, is set to take place. A worthy replacement has been groomed. Anyone seeking a deity of death and destruction need to look no further than South Africa. All hail Spoko! The Pretoria, Mzansi Dj had a very good 2014. In addition to the full-length debut - titled, yes, War God - Spoko, real name Marvin Ramalepe, was featured on the naasMUSIC compilation Laaitie and as being the subject of compilation curated by Spoek Mathambo. Most notable, however, is the artist's boosted international profile. Spoko is no longer a mere semi-anonymous an anonymous entity. The beat-maker responsible for "Township Funk" - which the author deems to be sacrifice worthy tune - has evolved. Not only did Spoki appear at MoMA PS1, but the producer was also lauded with a 40+ minute podcast on Resident Advisor.
And all for good reason.
Bacardi House, Spoko's style, is seemingly different. Unlike a global house house aesthetic, international tastes are discarded. If need be, worldwide audiences can adapt. Vocal samples are seldom heard as kwaito becomes more relevant base than bubblegum. Heady musical concepts are not explored here. Only one critic, without shape or form, matters: the streets. If for other reason, then, a Spoko beat is direct and incendiary in its simplicity. Syncopation is essential kindling. Soon a fire rages under the dancefloor as dancers stomp to put it own. A semblance to Gqom is certainly heard because Spoko, after all, relies heavily on short, resilient drum loops. But herein lies the primary difference: unlike Sbucardo, Juelz da Deejay, Infamous Boiz (or Cruel Boyz or Dopeboyz or really any seemingly inconspicuous Kasimp3 composer), Spoko drills the melody. Atmospheric synth is retained but, as only a War God can, the melody is elevated. Valhalla is the ultimate destination.
Such is the case on the fast-paced "War Neva End." An otherwise typical Spoko beat, the song below is not pop so much as straight dance, and tthe run is ascetic at best. No a single resource is wasted. While one synths lay the groundwork for a solid harmony, the second set of keys float high above establishing nboth aerial and melodic superiority. The rhythm is constructed around a snare/bass/cymbal beat. Here Spoko borrows from American trap and drill, where hit-hat triplets are taken for granted. Spoko, however, is far from ordinary. The bell on a crash cymbal performs 1/16 beat duties; meanwhile kick drum carries a 4/4, as ride concludes each bar. Unsurprisingly driven forward by snare.
Yet only half the song has been covered.
While Spoko has featured vocalists before, their role is normally hype (wo)man. Samuel Turpin is nothing of the sort. This Johannesburg based MC holds his own with a breakbeat flow. The is style Mzansi, but the cynicism - with past lines such as the Alice in Wonderland inspired "Back to the shack as the average thoughts of many / And it's got to be stopped, but without a tin penny / Cause governments lie, it don't matter which party" and the navel gazing "It's like, I just wanna see / But I need to work, to get the perks and avoid the quirks / And I need to lurk in the back and make a...track"- is all his own. Turpin's contribution on "War Neva End," follows suit. While the tempo and energy is maintained, the vibe is all tongue in cheek. The flow is spontaneous. No definite structure is ever established. Instead, Turpin stimulates both mind and hips at will. Tales of ordinary, daily (mis)adventures are juxtaposed with scenes of pleasure and escapism. shots are fired at religiois and political establishments. Ultimately, empowerment is the answer
Spoko and Samuel Turpin have cearly won the battle, hopefully they win the war as well.
(first spotted at OkayAfrica)
- John Noggle
Mars is a military man who has given the service his all The Roman God of War has nothing to be ashamed about.
Mars' career was nothing short of divine. Spotless, however, it was not. Salting the earth at Carthage was extreme. Then again Julius Caesar was not quite an ambassador of goodwill either. Mistakes were made. Atrocities were committed. Walls were certainly built; and within them rests the war god's timeless legacy. Look no further than the the deity's resume. The 'v' in Mars's CV actually stands for 'Victory.' But nothing, not even the immortals, are meant to live forever. Time, that cruel mistress, has come: Mars is set to retire, joining the ranks of Ares, Horus, and Odin. A teary, farewell press conference is in the works
Vaya con dios, Marte.
Fortunately, is set to take place. A worthy replacement has been groomed. Anyone seeking a deity of death and destruction need to look no further than South Africa. All hail Spoko! The Pretoria, Mzansi Dj had a very good 2014. In addition to the full-length debut - titled, yes, War God - Spoko, real name Marvin Ramalepe, was featured on the naasMUSIC compilation Laaitie and as being the subject of compilation curated by Spoek Mathambo. Most notable, however, is the artist's boosted international profile. Spoko is no longer a mere semi-anonymous an anonymous entity. The beat-maker responsible for "Township Funk" - which the author deems to be sacrifice worthy tune - has evolved. Not only did Spoki appear at MoMA PS1, but the producer was also lauded with a 40+ minute podcast on Resident Advisor.
And all for good reason.
Bacardi House, Spoko's style, is seemingly different. Unlike a global house house aesthetic, international tastes are discarded. If need be, worldwide audiences can adapt. Vocal samples are seldom heard as kwaito becomes more relevant base than bubblegum. Heady musical concepts are not explored here. Only one critic, without shape or form, matters: the streets. If for other reason, then, a Spoko beat is direct and incendiary in its simplicity. Syncopation is essential kindling. Soon a fire rages under the dancefloor as dancers stomp to put it own. A semblance to Gqom is certainly heard because Spoko, after all, relies heavily on short, resilient drum loops. But herein lies the primary difference: unlike Sbucardo, Juelz da Deejay, Infamous Boiz (or Cruel Boyz or Dopeboyz or really any seemingly inconspicuous Kasimp3 composer), Spoko drills the melody. Atmospheric synth is retained but, as only a War God can, the melody is elevated. Valhalla is the ultimate destination.
Such is the case on the fast-paced "War Neva End." An otherwise typical Spoko beat, the song below is not pop so much as straight dance, and tthe run is ascetic at best. No a single resource is wasted. While one synths lay the groundwork for a solid harmony, the second set of keys float high above establishing nboth aerial and melodic superiority. The rhythm is constructed around a snare/bass/cymbal beat. Here Spoko borrows from American trap and drill, where hit-hat triplets are taken for granted. Spoko, however, is far from ordinary. The bell on a crash cymbal performs 1/16 beat duties; meanwhile kick drum carries a 4/4, as ride concludes each bar. Unsurprisingly driven forward by snare.
Yet only half the song has been covered.
While Spoko has featured vocalists before, their role is normally hype (wo)man. Samuel Turpin is nothing of the sort. This Johannesburg based MC holds his own with a breakbeat flow. The is style Mzansi, but the cynicism - with past lines such as the Alice in Wonderland inspired "Back to the shack as the average thoughts of many / And it's got to be stopped, but without a tin penny / Cause governments lie, it don't matter which party" and the navel gazing "It's like, I just wanna see / But I need to work, to get the perks and avoid the quirks / And I need to lurk in the back and make a...track"- is all his own. Turpin's contribution on "War Neva End," follows suit. While the tempo and energy is maintained, the vibe is all tongue in cheek. The flow is spontaneous. No definite structure is ever established. Instead, Turpin stimulates both mind and hips at will. Tales of ordinary, daily (mis)adventures are juxtaposed with scenes of pleasure and escapism. shots are fired at religiois and political establishments. Ultimately, empowerment is the answer
Spoko and Samuel Turpin have cearly won the battle, hopefully they win the war as well.
(first spotted at OkayAfrica)
- John Noggle
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Dj locks - "Latona Doumbia"
Whether vehemently violent or habitually honorable, American football is a game of inches.
None of which is meant to take away from the competition itself.
Unlike other incarnations on the sports, ties, draws, and other miscellaneous statements hardly ever occur. The final score reigns supreme because only by the accumulation of points is a given competition's conclusion reached. Individual performances do matter. Effort is, of course, of the essence. But numbers are resilient and cannot be silence. It is their presence - numbers! - that give value and meaning to the actions and decisions that make up a game. So while the concept of a inches is (nearly) novel to rugby's concussive cousin, it is not terrible unique to the National Football League's championship game.
Ricardo Lockette came spectacularly short to solidifying a championship victory. But it was the manner, rather than the action itself, that made the end of Sunday's extravaganza so astonishing.
But, the present subject is not an athlete. Rather than discuss a Seahawks wide-receiver, the author pivots toward a different coast. Within the Black$ea is a certain Dj named locks, most prominent for a selecting and organizing mixes that range anywhere from ten to twenty minute. Be that as it may, locks can also compose a song all his own; and so far in 2015, the beat-maker has follow-suit. The key difference, though, is style, or a change thereof. Listers need to look no further than the quaintly, if not bizarrely titled, "hard techno mix.2015." Released two weeks ago, the downloadable track is more hardstyle/rave influenced than anything Belleville Three related. Nonetheless, the mix is intriguing in an experimental sort of way. The possibility of new ideas being worked is evident in the technical manner - borrowed, perhaps, from Karfox - in which undecorated melodies are mixed over a hybrid beat.
Yet, what follows is not nearly as adventurous.
While Dj locks has worked with slower tempos before, such has not been the case on original tracks. Proving to be an formidable exception though, is "Latona Doumbia," Released early in January, the two-tiered introduction - long in appearance, but not in practice - provides listeners the brief, central melody over four beats. Primarily electric guitar, this first portion is eventually accompanied by a dissonant harmonic synth. It is during the second potion that pace is established. Briefly accompanied by periphery percussion, the hi-hat quickly proves indispensable. Once the head begins, a tarraxo beat heard. Reduced to kick/hi-hat, the rhythm comes to include a djembe hitch on quarter notes and synth during the first "verse" section. After a drum-dree interlude, however, the song changes appearance. The "Kizomba Tarracho" tag references more than the soft melody. As the beat is reshaped to include clap/hi-hat/kick, a flute is brought into the melodic fold. Bass, too, makes an impression and the groove is found. The mood is heavy. Limbs are relaxed; and better yet, the opposing sections loops once more around the head.
Well worth the download, "Latona Doumbia" successful enough to make anyone say, "Shout out to my real Africans out there"
- John Noggle
None of which is meant to take away from the competition itself.
Unlike other incarnations on the sports, ties, draws, and other miscellaneous statements hardly ever occur. The final score reigns supreme because only by the accumulation of points is a given competition's conclusion reached. Individual performances do matter. Effort is, of course, of the essence. But numbers are resilient and cannot be silence. It is their presence - numbers! - that give value and meaning to the actions and decisions that make up a game. So while the concept of a inches is (nearly) novel to rugby's concussive cousin, it is not terrible unique to the National Football League's championship game.
Ricardo Lockette came spectacularly short to solidifying a championship victory. But it was the manner, rather than the action itself, that made the end of Sunday's extravaganza so astonishing.
But, the present subject is not an athlete. Rather than discuss a Seahawks wide-receiver, the author pivots toward a different coast. Within the Black$ea is a certain Dj named locks, most prominent for a selecting and organizing mixes that range anywhere from ten to twenty minute. Be that as it may, locks can also compose a song all his own; and so far in 2015, the beat-maker has follow-suit. The key difference, though, is style, or a change thereof. Listers need to look no further than the quaintly, if not bizarrely titled, "hard techno mix.2015." Released two weeks ago, the downloadable track is more hardstyle/rave influenced than anything Belleville Three related. Nonetheless, the mix is intriguing in an experimental sort of way. The possibility of new ideas being worked is evident in the technical manner - borrowed, perhaps, from Karfox - in which undecorated melodies are mixed over a hybrid beat.
Yet, what follows is not nearly as adventurous.
While Dj locks has worked with slower tempos before, such has not been the case on original tracks. Proving to be an formidable exception though, is "Latona Doumbia," Released early in January, the two-tiered introduction - long in appearance, but not in practice - provides listeners the brief, central melody over four beats. Primarily electric guitar, this first portion is eventually accompanied by a dissonant harmonic synth. It is during the second potion that pace is established. Briefly accompanied by periphery percussion, the hi-hat quickly proves indispensable. Once the head begins, a tarraxo beat heard. Reduced to kick/hi-hat, the rhythm comes to include a djembe hitch on quarter notes and synth during the first "verse" section. After a drum-dree interlude, however, the song changes appearance. The "Kizomba Tarracho" tag references more than the soft melody. As the beat is reshaped to include clap/hi-hat/kick, a flute is brought into the melodic fold. Bass, too, makes an impression and the groove is found. The mood is heavy. Limbs are relaxed; and better yet, the opposing sections loops once more around the head.
Well worth the download, "Latona Doumbia" successful enough to make anyone say, "Shout out to my real Africans out there"
- John Noggle
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