And I thought no one reads this shit.
Just clocked the numbers Your Mum is doing (I intend to rinse this Mum-orientated extended allegory until some uptight turnip takes literal offence): healthy and well beyond initial expectations when I constructed this mini-monolith 1 month and 8 days ago. For that I wish to express gratitude to all of you bandits and beauties.
In turn, you fun(c)kers are obligating me to post more than I have the rassclart daylight savings for- but like the finest follicle on a unicorn’s twat- you’re most cherished in my kingdom.
5.04am in the downcast, semi-ghetto, London morrow and frustratingly not one bosom hath I yet laid upon as I peel back my eyelids and prepare the next drop strictly for you. All your graves will be spat on.
The Gaslamp Killer – I Spit On Your Grave
My being, when once a baby-face, was partially bred on Led Zep and other fuzzy, fantastical, Prog-Rock shit from my Pap’s pre-parental, purple haze’d past life. Now that he’s an old geezer who doesn’t know his Dilla from his Daddy Yankee (sacrilege!), I’ve been left to continue on the demonic legacy… as has GLK markedly from this 60 minute mix of his own mosh-worthy instrumentals (with flips of other artist’s including Flying Lotus, Roots Manuva & DJ Shadow) and the prior material I’ve heard of his (‘Kobwebs’ with Gonjasufi is a stone cold ’07 classic cut). Too fatigued for the pomp of penmanship right now, so can I’ll just say The Gaslamp Killer is ridiculously fucking dope, and you’re about to sustain some serious blows of Avant-Garde-Glitch-Hop: like Jean Jacques Pierre puffin’ a chunky PCP-dipped blunt with King Crimson in Robert Rodriguez’s garage. If you like Fly-Lo, plus axes, plus crashing cymbals, and naked, painted sluts dancing around a giant smouldering wicker man in the desert, this is for you. Just keep listening to it as it hurtles along. The beats are actually absurd. Do you trust me? Of course you do. Then again, as with anything, it’s not for everyone. Goodnight.
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(For the record, I fucking hate single-track mixes. I guess I’m a pretentious cunt; I feel my connoisseurship enhanced when I have the individual mp3s. I can’t be the only one who feels this way, surely.)
Fantasticunt mix rating: