Tag Archives: Hip-Hop

Deltron 3030 – Event 2

There’s been a lot of discussion of Event 2 around the nest lately, and we’ve come to some sort of consensus that the thing was doomed to failure long before it had a chance to release. Even when the big online-stream day arrived, I know I found myself weirdly reluctant to listen – I knew the big comedown was coming. I also know I’m not the only fan that felt that way: Deltron 3030 being the undeniable bedrock-classic of weird sci-fi intellectual rap that it is, expectations ran absurdly high. Constructed by the ensemble cast of Del Tha Funkee Homosapien, Dan the Automator, Kid Koala, Sean Lennon, Damon Albarn, MC Paul Barnham and anyone else close enough at hand, the 2003 original stands as one of the big crossover hip-hop benchmarks. Underground and afro-futuristic enough to qualify as legitimate hip-hop, weird enough to lure the rock fans in, stylistically varied and brilliantly-produced enough to stun jaded or inexperienced rap fans like myself (at the time), nothing hit like Deltron 3030 for a nerdy hip-hop neophyte. That said, it’s been ten years. These guys are getting old: most of the old cast is gone, and replaced, weirdly, by a pack of drama kids, comedians and oddballs. Oh. And one of the album’s unifying themes – when it isn’t a space-epic about Deltron saving the human race (or whatever) – is age and stagnation and frustration. Oh. That doesn’t sound like stoned, jovial cyber-afro-futurepunk, does it? So I went into Event 2 a tad worried. Not because the demo tracks weren’t fantastic, but because Event 2 is the Half Life 3 of underground rap bizarrity: there was no way it could stand up to the hype.

And it doesn’t.

But it tries! And a great deal of that success stems from Event 2 eschewing the notion that it might be anything but what it is: a ten-year reunion for a pack of aging oddities, one last cruise around the star-system for good times’ sake. Del’s voice hasn’t aged too noticeably, but his cadence has – a slower, loping rhythm that contrasts harshly with 3030‘s sometimes breathless energy. Dan the Automator (and DJ-turned-conductor Kid Koala) aren’t as concerned with scratching up dusty sci-fi samples anymore as they are with hashing original compositions in the vein of the prior album’s airy orchestral mashups. All this comes together to make Event 2 a significantly different beast – an album very much in the spirit of the original, but lacking its “oh hell why not” intensity. The boys couldn’t have expected their pre-nerdcore side project to blow up so huge, so here that creativity gets funneled down the barrel of hype and stature and a ten-year hiatus. It comes out the other side a leaner, more musically grandiose endeavour, but for all its Cyber somewhere along the way whatever made the trio ‘Punk has certainly been sacrificed for linearity and concision.

And age! Age is such an important theme for Event 2. It’s been ten years since the original; in real time, in fictional time. The original’s 3030 has pushed the clock forward to Stardate 3040 (courtesy of Joseph Gordon-Levitt on the fantastic intro) and times have changed in the Deltron universe. Most importantly, stuff is happening now. One of the original’s core strengths – and really, like me, you might have to go back and re-listen – is how little of a narrative it actually presented. Oh sure there’s plenty of fantastic wordplay and collage going on, but actual linear storytelling is nowhere to be seen in Del’s original afro-futurist opus until “Battlesong” – and that’s 2 songs shy of the outro. Event 2 leans in the opposite direction; it’s Alien to Aliens. “The Return” nods to “3030” right out the gate, and its near-seven minutes run a recap of the former album’s events. Maybe the problem therein is that despite how awesome the production is (and really, all the work done on this album sonically rules); it can be easy to lose Del in the shuffle. Or maybe, like me, you’re just momentarily thrown off by how different his flow sounds. He’s slower, measured to the point of nearly sounding behind the beat – and that’s going to happen a lot on Event 2. Following “The Return”, well, it’s story time. Event 2 is a crash-course through Deltron’s new galaxy-spanning adventures – and I mean we’re on his damn shoulder this time. No more grandiose depictions of here’s-me-destroying-the-government-with-a-virus-in-concept, this time we’re the HandyCam Deltron uses to explore the cosmos, one adventure after another. This can be cool, like on “Pay The Price” when Del raps a conversation with a corrupt, mind-controlled drone, or on “Talent Supersedes” after Del defects from his squad, and takes to marauding across the stars with his crew. It can also be completely disorienting and a tad frustrating – several listens in and I’m still pondering some of the plot points; a vice the original shared but mitigated by being novel as hell. So the structure’s certainly switched up, and to the album’s detriment. There’s a lot less playing with metaphor and complex wordplay than the original (though of course it’s still Del), and a greatly increased amount of neat little sci-fi vignettes. The bonus being that for new listeners, those 10-year-olds hearing this that hadn’t been born at the advent of the original [existential crisis here], this is going to be a pretty cool ride. For whatever flaws Deltron’s narrowed scope might bring, there’s still nothing like Deltron 3030 hitting the airwaves or cracking the top 40 these days, and we can rest confident Event 2 is certainly a more accessible listen to modern ears, if less artistically unprecedented.

Shy of finding a way to incorporate Janelle Monae, the guest list here couldn’t be more.. unexpected: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Aaron Bruno, David Cross/Amber Tamblyn, Zack De La Rocha, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, The Lonely Island, Black Rob, David Chang, Damon Albarn, Emily Wells, Casual, Mike Patton and Jamie Cullum. What was that about cooks and kitchens? This an album with 16 tracks: two of those tracks lack guest vocalists, and that proportion ought to tell us something about how Event 2 came into existence. This thing is a hype train doubtless, and to their credit the guest vocalists either do fantastic work or disappear entirely: Aaron Bruno can be heard, in theory, on “Nobody Can”. Maybe someone will scramble the waveforms and locate Mike Patton on “City Rising From The Ashes” like an Aphex Twin track. On the other end of the spectrum, Mary Elizabeth Winstead gets processed into an eery, ethereal pitch-shifted whisper, Emily Wells delivers her four bars exceedingly well, and The Lonely Island actually bring some of the most refreshingly relaxed comedic turns on the album. David Cross and Tamblyn are serviceably funny, giving us Event 2‘s “New Coke” moments, and Zack De La Rocha just can’t contain how Goddamn Excited he is to be Rapping Angrily because “FUCK YOUR FORMAT”. SURE ZACK, I’M ON IT. Again though, it’s an ensemble cast, and identifying the contributors blind can be a fun sort of game. Special mention is reserved, however, for Damon Albarn who manages one of the finest vocal turns of his post-Blur career on “What Is This Loneliness”, 2‘s “Time Keeps On Slipping”. “Loneliness”, remarkably, captures the spirit of the original and might even surpass its emotional impact. It’s a reminder of how absurdly talented the original Gorillaz team (that’s Damon, Del, Automator and Koala) can be when their chemistry clicks. It’s also Event 2‘s most transparent moment, something like an audio-flashback to 2003. It’s also the moment that Event 2 fell apart for me.

Well that’s ominous. Here’s what I mean: musically, Event 2 an absolutely gorgeous piece of work. The choruses range from catchy (“The Return”, “My Only Love”) to brilliant (“Loneliness”, “Do You Remember”, “Look Across The Sky”), and even the easily-skipped interludes succeed in their brevity. The production is largely a live orchestra conducted by Koala, and Del’s always been blessed with one of the most idiosyncratic voices in hip-hop – and nothing about that has changed (or can). The issue is that when I hit “What Is This Loneliness” and heard Albarn again, it hit home how cleanly Event 2 adheres to the curves of the original, and how derivative it is. Yes it’s a sequel, but it so often feels like a recast or an expansion pack. This isn’t Starcraft 2 it’s Brood War, man. And for all of Event 2‘s successes, that sense of  ‘new, action-packed retread‘ is bound to drive down the review score. For as much fun as it often is, Event 2 is a skin stretched uneasily over Deltron 3030, that’s beyond argument. So by all means listen if you like the guests. Listen if you want to hear some of 2013’s most ambitious and excitingly bizarre hip-hop production. Listen if you want to hear Del at least four times as invigorated as he was on Golden Era! But don’t go into Event 2 asking them to recast the Deltron mould; that starship has sailed, and likely for the best.

You know, until someone sticks them in a room with Janelle Monae.


Originally published right here, October 2013

What’s happening?/I keep my dreadlocks in a napkin ring/Rap and sing/Unlike the homogenous clones/I’m into earth tones birth stones and erogenous zones/The more ticklish the more you have!

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Danny Brown – OLD

I can’t really say what it focuses on, because I don’t really know what it focuses on.

Oh man, Danny Brown. Anyone that made it to the end of XXX knows that Danny never really expected to make it this far – I mean, not that he never expected to make it this far in his career; the man clearly never expected to make it this far as in turn 32. Listening to XXX you get the sense Danny would have been unsurprised and satisfied going out at 27 – XXX  was a real piece of work, an album split straight down the middle into rigidly consistent A and B sides, first reveling in his notorious excess and then, jarringly, staring straight down the barrel of Danny’s former (and Detroit’s current) destitution in its latter half. XXX is one of my favourite bizarro-rap works of the last five years, no question, and to this day I have to convince friends to grind through its obtuse, grimy Side A to get to the introspective, calm-voiced Danny Brown that his yapping singles completely overshadow. In fact, any interview with Danny Brown is liable to induce the assumption that Danny must be some Avenue Q castaway; the druggy Muppet Henson never gave us. Danny’s unique in the respect that, in any given single or press announcement or interview, he sounds completely off his mind, at near-ODB levels. And maybe he is! Who cares! Because somewhere in there, past the weed and the pills he so notoriously enjoys, is a brilliant man whose flow and cadence still betray how bewildered and grateful he is to have made it this far, and whose supremely confident rhythm effortlessly careens over top of any beat thrown at him. See him live for proof of this. Danny Brown is bizarre; Danny Brown thinks he’s ODB. Danny Brown might be ODB. But then, I notoriously love weird for weird’s sake – so does OLD hold up to XXX‘s last-gasp-at-fame precision and kitchen-sink desperation?

I’m not convinced Danny is telling the truth in that quotation up there, where he pretends not to know wholesale what he’s up to. Somewhere behind the skinny jeans and the Skrillex hair hides a calculating and clever man, whose every move laser-sights him to greater exposure. RiFF RaFF can relate, I think, and so it’s something of a vogue time to be a rapper this strange. Make no mistake, Danny hasn’t let go of his puppy-bark flow or his blowjob jokes or his Molly shoutouts or his fixation with synthesizers. But for all that lovable/gross pop-culture weirdness, OLD is an obvious follow-up to XXX – to the extent that it more or less ignores the rest of his ridiculously-prolific output of late. The first half of OLD – and again he’s sequenced the album like vinyl, because he wants to be rapgame Bowie’s Low – comes at you like the knowing sequel to XXX‘s sober and sad B-side. On OLD’s Side A, Danny’s still alive somehow, and he’s still wrestling himself away from his Detroit street-life flashbacks. Artistically, that continuity makes sense. Fiscally speaking, Danny dropped “Grown Up”, “ODB”, “Dip” and “Kush Koma” since XXX released – and two of those tracks aren’t on the album at all, while the other two are buried on Side B. That means Side A is gutsy; I like gutsy. This is the sort of artistic license we get when a man like Danny, who ostensibly has no idea what he’s doing, is properly handed the wheel. Yes of course you bury the singles after you become a popstar – of course you keep Action Bronson and Kitty Pryde and your Bruiser Brigade and your hit singles far away from your commercial debut. You get to do that when you’re hugely popular and you’ve spent countless hours carefully convincing the pop world you’re insane.

Though it maintains that vinyl-side structural integrity, OLD does differ in a number of important ways. For one, Danny’s right: it isn’t as focused. Not at all – Side A (A is for Angsty) is all about giving us that “Old Danny Brown”, by which he means his J Dilla influences and his explicit raps about selling pounds of drugs, but also his flashbacks: “Torture” gives us a terrifying vignette of poverty and destitution. “Wonderbread” features a young Danny Brown getting curb-stomped over that same loaf that we remember from XXX. ‘Old Danny Brown’ means “The Return” too, on which we get Danny and Freddie Gibbs trading violence over Andre 3000’s “Return of the Gangsta” refrain (OLD‘s answer to “Grown Up”‘s ATCQ callback). “Dope Fiend” is a starkly juvenile rundown on Danny and Schoolboy Q’s evening activities (chorus: “Open wide ho”),  but tempers its ugly misogyny with an inescapable sense of desperation on both ends. The subject matter isn’t rare for Danny, even on the album where he promised us less blow-jobbery. To Danny’s credit, Schoolboy Q gets overexcited and scatters around the track unnecessarily; given more screen-time Danny’s trademark self-deprecation likely could have balanced the track. Or given us a reverse version of “I Will”. Who, really, can say. OLD‘s Side A stays suitably grim while giving us a more holistic Detroit ghetto – and to quote Danny is almost to do a disservice to his narratives when he finally does mention abortion, or drug abuse, or his mother. To an extent it’s the same old “Detroit Shit” we’ve been hearing since his mixtape days, but his flow is tighter and more descriptive, and the lower of his two voices almost monopolizes the first half, which opens the second up to the levity we’ve come to expect from the other face of Danny’s bipolar output.

And before we go there, a special nod to “Clean Up”, the first track I can recall that gives us a solid look into Danny Brown’s interiority. Because of his musical… condition, as a listener it can be difficult to ever say you know Danny Brown; where does he come from, in an emotional sense? Is he aware that there’s a massive disconnect between his multi-thousand-dollar shoes and the fact that his nation wants to sell his city to Canada? He’s aware, and for once he promises to “Clean Up”. It’s a complete reversal from XXX‘s suicidal overtones, and that’s not like him. It’s also a lie and he knows it, but to get something like ‘Danny Brown: The Ballad’ is a rare and surprisingly touching opportunity; it’s adult in a way the majority of his material betrays. It’s moments like this,  like Danny addressing his mother and daughter, that give OLD that touch of maturity and authenticity that Danny’s previous material largely lacked. The fact that it’s followed by the nihilistic, off-the-rails “Red 2 Go” is a brilliant turn that gives lie to the notion that he can keep his mind off the street for more than a song. It’s easy to forget that Brown is, well, old, and those moments when his odd wisdom shines through prove Danny’s strongest movements here.

Of course, he promises the same thing on “Dope Song”, the intro to Side B. He says it’ll be his “last Dope Song/but not [his] last Dope Song”, and maybe we sigh, and maybe we believe him. And then Side B is a pinball machine of drugs. Because Danny’s been charging his bark for an entire half of the album, he is yapping up a storm on Side B. Song by song we’ve got the bait-and-switch “Dubstep” (drug dealing), “Dip” (Molly), “Smokin and Drinkin” (…smoking and drinking), “Break It [Go]” and “Handstand” (twerking and twerking, sigh), “Way Up Here” (because Side B is the depressed Andrew WK of rap), and “Kush Coma” (ft. a lazy, track-sapping A$AP Rocky). Put a drink (or whatever, it’s Brown) in your hand and you might not even notice the cuts between tracks until you hit the sudden comedown of “Float On”, in which Danny’s voice drops back down, Charli XCX sighs the chorus, and we get a moment to reflect. “Remember when Mommy sent me for the Wonderbread/and n* came and stomped on my fuckin head?/It’s like I learned right then you either sink or you swim/an if you wanna beat your enemy you gotta think like him” – we know, Danny. We know from the several other tracks referencing that incident; that last track, with its quiet-hum organs, arrives as a knowing requiem for the rest of his lifestyle. Like “Clean Up”, it hits hard, and like that track it’s one more piece of evidence that Brown knows exactly what he’s up to. He might be ignorant all over side B, but Danny Brown is never ignorant of Side B, and that’s such an important distinction. I haven’t spoken much of the lyrical content on this side, and I don’t feel I have to: you know what happens. Danny’s naturally talented as hell, his beats are chilly sci-fi, his rhymes know just how to tinge his sexuality and his drug abuse with desperation, so you’re never quite happy – but like Danny, you’re never exhausted enough to quit, either.

Of course OLD doesn’t match up to the shock value of XXX – Danny’s breakthrough mixtape hit like a hammer and it had to, so many of us had never heard its like before. OLD isn’t as focused, for one, and it lacks that desperate hook-to-hook rap that captivated us on XXX, but that thematic pollution side-to-side works to its benefit. Though it never hits the former’s shout-along-chorus highs, Side A feels so much less obvious, and so much more packed with detail than its prequel, his reflection is less forced and more sincere this time. And maybe that’s because Danny’s mental state forces the two halves into interbreed: we’re never sure if he’s going to tell us a horror story or celebrate his own excess – but we know that like his sense of humour, he can’t leave out that nagging, suicidal doubt from nearly anything he writes. That sorrow-black core that paints nearly all of Brown’s work is instrumental to his success as a fantastically bizarre presence in rap, and like all of his material, OLD never lets the audience get comfortable. That might even be an issue of Brown’s crude sense of humour weren’t in full effect – but since when has Brown’s voice not embodied contradictions? This is a man that waxes sing-song about the moral and physical devastation of drug-addiction on “Dope Song”. I love it. It’s gross and awful and thought-provoking all at once; it’s a stomach-churning sort of laugh that he’s now perfected. OLD is strange in all the right ways that we’ve come to expect, from its vocal gymnastics to a Danny’s often-frigid beat selection, but so much tighter than Brown’s previous material – and that includes XXX. He’s never been particularly approachable on album, and nothing about that changes, but we’ve never been this far inside his head before. If we’re going to talk weaknesses, a nod is due to the generally forgettable guest-raps (though recognition is due to Brit-chopper Scrufizzer on “Dubstep”), and OLD‘s necessarily exhausting second half. That said, as the follow-up to a Mixtape that came out sounding like a eulogy, the opportunity to hear a properly mature Danny Brown is a treat and bound to be one of the coolest releases this year.


Originally published right here, October 2013.

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Akira The Don – ATD29

Akira the Don’s relationship to mixtape culture is as extensive as it is instrumental to his success, but perhaps the sight of ATD29 (that’s ATD Mixtape Number 29) up there is going to turn people off, maybe it’s intimidating. Twenty-Nine Mixtapes?! they’ll exclaim, shuddering at the prospect of chugging through 29 mostly album-length releases by a man somehow not 80 years old (and not Lil B of  800+ Myspace tracks). Maybe they’ll assume the mixtapes are disposable retreads on beats, or a ruse (Skrillex) to distract us from Akira’s fear of full-length releases. Akira’s as much a friend of the show here as anyone, and I’ll be quick to disclose that he’s an ally of Transylvanilla, I’m an old fan of his, and yes, 29 Mixtapes is a towering queue of releases. What’s astounding is they aren’t throwaways: Akira’s latest series (especially 25 and 26) have been on steady rotation for ages here at The Nest, and my archives show this isn’t my first encounter with his material. That said, written and recorded over 29 hours(!!) apparently on my birthday, ATD29 marks Akira’s first ‘proper’ mixtape in quite a while: other peoples’ beats, his own mixing and production, guest verses, an original production or two, an autotuned jam with his human son Hercules friggin Narkiewicz. It’s a Mixtape Mixtape, not an album in disguise (Manga Music being especially arguable). And that’s great! The stakes are low, Akira’s having fun, Big Narstie shows up to yell about #Pain. It’s enjoyable. It’s a return to form for Akira, whose discography stacks on his website like a teetering pile of zines, and deigns to drop a studio album only whenever the content suits his greater narrative arc. So kick back, and let’s dig in for around the 29th time.

Smokin’ Joe kicks off the album the same way he did  ATD25, though ‘intro’ is something of a misnomer; it’s also a screaming oldschool funk beat courtesy of DJ Mink. Akira’s all over the place: he’s energized, he’s awarding himself Nobel prizes, he’s shouting out to his kid and everyone else. The beat’s manic and so’s the MC, briefing and hyping the crowd, and slicing directly into the molasses-heavy “Hash In The Post” – based on a true story. ‘Hash hovers under a beat by Mike Will Made It and Akira’s back to his old tricks with the voice modulator. The beat’s lumbering, and Akira floats under the mix, bubbling up to echo his chorus. That vocal processing is his best friend these days for good reason: it lets him keep the tone low-key and gurgle out the verses – even if he weren’t rapping about coming up as an aspiring rapper, or flying a based spaceship to a planet unsullied by police or a lack of weed, the effect locks ‘Hash into place. In fact, Akira keeps it fairly heavy for the first several tracks, tearing into an anti-racist polemic on Chief-Keef-nod “Hate SOSA”. And again with the vocal processing: this time it’s an autotune flutter, yanking the track from Keef’s bark and into outer space. Processing song after song, and keeping the beats weighty, gives ATD29‘s opening few tracks a neat sort of consistency. Sure they aren’t long, but they’re fun – MC and audience alike can float on through (with their Hash), cracking hazy smiles at the jokes. …Until Akira breaks set over Action Bronson’s “Pouches of Tuna“. I’ll fanboy for a second and say that hearing Akira rock nasty raps over that beat, nodding to sexual misdemeanours in Bronson’s style, is a treat. This is what mixtape culture is for: taking a dope beat, even miming another artist’s style, and putting your own vocal tics and production smirks into it. It’s all in good fun, it gives him the opportunity to throw a flanger on “Tuna” and rap nasty Bronson-isms like “abstain from fuckery/a Miss Kentucky Derby depravity/a little fucky-sucky in the lavatory” – and it comes off like wordplay homage. Nice. Because it’s Akira messing around in the studio we do get awkward rhymes about his dragon-spirit-animal-thing from his childhood, but there’s a looseness and casualness that licenses it all to fit. Even when it seems to lack polish, that’s sort of what ATD29 is for.

Following “Tuna” we hit an Akira original: “End of the Road” featuring Big Narstie and Footsie, that really wouldn’t feel out of place in Narstie’s catalogue. The two-step isn’t out of place here either, slotting into 29‘s darker first half. Narstie and Footsie are in top form, locking in as the background horns pop, and Akira’s back on his political rap scene, and tearing into UK banks in a style that would sit comfortably on one of his bigger releases. With “End of the Road” closing out the grimy half of the tape – because Akira The Don is partially a pop musician – It’s Dance Time. I’ll be the first to admit that these tracks took time to grow on me: I’ve come around on them to an extent, but there’s no mistaking the 8-minute dance party lurking in the middle of ATD29. To its credit, “When Life Gives You Lemons PUNCH LIFE IN THE FUCKING FACE” does feature a fear bit of autobiographical rap (which is great) and the chorus is a fun bit of gratuity filtered through robot-chop processing, but it does drag on a bit. This will certainly quench the thirst of anyone that needed more ATD to toss in their hardstyle mix, so perhaps I’m getting this one in the wrong context. East-Van-Cafe not so much, but in club? A blast, likely, and true of so much dance music. Which is the same deal for the next track’s re-remix of vintage ATD track “OMG (This Is So My Jam)”. Again this isn’t necessarily my, uh, jam, but couldn’t it be if I were partying? And so this is sometimes how we must approach music journalism: I’ll begrudgingly admit that ATD29‘s dance-wasteland might be quite fun! Real loud. Drunk with friends. As it is, it sits as an unexpected intermission, chopping the tape in two. It does, though, bring us to “Django”.

Go buy “Django”, seriously. Don’t mess around: here’s Don and Narstie rapping over an Akira-produced remix of that friggin’ sweet Brown/Tupac mashup from Django Unchained. I can’t stress enough: this production kicks ass. Hands down, it’s one of the finest beats Akira’s ever whipped up, and because ATD29 is a largely outsourced production, “Django” centrepieces it perfectly: this is the proper follow-up to favourites “Lord I Miss (Red Dead Redemption)” and “Big Iron” that we waited years to get. Like those tracks, it’s also a bit silly! That said, I can’t remember hearing this much obvious fun bang out of a production studio in a long time. Everyone’s having a blast, listener included, when those horns drop. To be played loud, inebriated, preferably while astride a horse.

ATD29 really has no choice but to cool down after “Django”. It drifts into space-rap about burning spliffs and Thundercats, “Burnt Teeth” that rips another Bronson beat (and slows “Buddy Guy” to its original speed), Don’s political and Satoshi-Kon-dedicated “Daylight” take, and a pair of tracks for his young son, before quietly coming to a stop. One of these odes to Hercules is the roaring, triumphant “Theme From Hercules”, the other’s simply an autotuned Akira singing his son “Moon River”. Both are touching and strange in their own odd, unexpected ways. How cool is that? I love mixtape culture. And really that’s what ATD29 is: Akira’s return to making mixtapes in the classic mode; I can’t not engage with it personally. And while it sometimes plays fast and loose, this thing was slammed together in 29 hours as an intermission between bigger releases. Great swaths of ATD29 are a blast to listen to, and while the pacing gets a bit bizarre (brief tracks, the dance tracks, the sentimental, strange ending) it’s difficult to fault a man that made this in hardly 2 days while celebrating the existence of his brand new human son. Oh right, and he’s uploaded it here if you’d like to listen, too. Real cool, Akira.

A difficult project to score, I think. But here’s a number.


Full Disclosure: As a longtime friend of Transylvanilla, Akira mailed me this release out of the blue, stating I could review it, enjoy it, whatever. And so, much later, I did. Much respect to Akira The Don and his family unit! 

Full Disclosure 2.0: I missed you guys, too. Thanks for reading.

Reviewed right here, October 20, 2013.

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