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Review: 1000gecs by 100gecs

Last year, LA based band 100gecs released their first full project. The duo, composed of Laura Les and Dylan Brady, make some rather interesting music, equally inspired by “Skrillex and Playboi Carti”. The album, 1000gecs, is a whirlwind of bright and peppy noise that refuses to let up throughout its (all too short) 23 minutes. Genres are not just combined, but rather bastardized in both a ridiculous and intriguing manner. Electronic, Pop, Dance, Rap, Rock, Ska, Metal, Noise—all worm their way in at some point. It is bizarre, enigmatic, and way too much fun.

When I went to a Brockhampton show in November of last year, I had never heard of the opener–100gecs. Funnily enough, I was too late to see the band play, but I remember seeing their record on sale. The cover art– a picture of the two artists standing, backs to the camera, against a tree– fascinated me. It was weird and eye-catching. “What kind of music could they make?” I thought naively. I made a mental note to check the band out at some point, and enjoyed the rest of the concert.

The next day, I put the album on and gave it my full attention. I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. 1000gecs almost plays like parody, bouncing from style to style but always presenting a clear vision. However funny I found it, I was nevertheless mesmerized by its commitment to the chaotic, the disordered, and the extreme.  It is quite a bit abrasive (parts of the community refer to 100gecs as “Charli XCX on Adderall” or “Death Grips for weaboos”) but it stays fairly grounded in modern musical norms. That’s what makes 1000gecs so entertaining. While most subversive artist try to defy cliché by outright rejecting it, Laura Les and Dylan Brady take many modern trends and push them to the extreme.

Throughout 1000gecs, there is heavy use of auto tune and pitch control—so much that the voices of Laura and Dylan are almost drowned out in the wash of sugary noise. Distorted 808s pound and lo-fi trap drums tap their way through the under-mixed songs. On occasion, samples ring out alone, like on the fever trip “I Need Help Immediately” which sounds as if a cat walked on a soundboard and accidently uploaded it to the album. Many songs begin in one style and steeply change into something else, like the single “Money Machine”. Beginning as a banging trap rap cut, it breaks down into a droning noise with overpowering bass booming. Another, “800db Cloud” is a sweet love song that ends with metal screaming.

Dylan and Laura’s humor and wit is present undeniable in their work. Songs like “Stupid Horse” and “xXXi_wud_nvrstøp_ÜXXx” demonstrate this well (as does their bio section on Spotify). But 1000gecs isn’t just a good joke. It is a well-crafted and extremely enjoyable meditation on the chaos of modern day. It probably will come as no big surprise that the entirety of the album was recorded separately. Dylan and Laura would send each other bits over time until they had a full song, much like The Postal Service did in the 2000’s. The internet played a major role not only in the spreading of the album, but also in the incubation of it. The drastic and eclectic nature of the internet molded the sound of the record continually. Its chaos is not a defect, but rather a reflection of an ever changing world were styles and trends boom and bust.

“Here today, gone tomorrow” has become the mantra of an-increasingly impatient society. Ideas become tropes, which become clichés, and, after oversaturation, disappear. 100gecs is a true product of that artistic lifespan. Its genre hopping mish-mash can sound haphazard, but it really is meticulously crafted. I have found a lot of entertainment in its thought provoking, bizarre hyperactivity, and perhaps you may as well.

 

I’d rate this album 9gecs out of 10. Thanks for reading.

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Review: 3.15.20 by Childish Gambino

One of my favorite quotes of the twentieth century is from author and essayist Edward Abbey. “Growth for the sake of growth” he once proclaimed, “is the mantra of the cancer cell”. It seems that in 3.15.20, singer, songwriter, rapper, artist, actor, comedian, and Renaissance man Donald Glover hits upon a similar sentiment.

            Donald Glover, also known as Childish Gambino, has been an artist in the public’s eye for about fifteen years now. He has also been an artist I’ve loved to hate. I have never found his comedy that funny, his writing that original, or his music enjoyable at all. But yesterday, I had the pleasure and privilege of hearing his fourth studio record—3.15.20. Everything from its album art (a plain white square and nothing else) to its oddly named track list (all but 2 songs are just time stamps for the song’s beginning) intrigued me. So, I gave it a listen. Then, I listened to it again. In the last two days, I have listened to its 57 minutes seven times. There are some things in art that are perhaps indescribable to an extent. But, I will try my best

            Throughout 3.15.20, a vision of the future is presented in bright, if wary, tones. The artistic leaps and bounds that Gambino takes are experimental, wondrous, and invigorating. But the most important quality about this album is not how new it sounds—it’s how old it sounds. Funk, soul, rap, R&B, disco, rock all make appearances. Many songs are best described as an old-fashioned funk song repackaged in a futuristic gloss. Glover relishes in his personal and cultural history, dancing through musical genres and styles, never stopping, but always seizing the moment. It’s incredibly beautiful to journey with Childish Gambino through these musical memories ranging from psychedelic, ambient, to pulsating. Rhythm drives most songs forward, pulling you in and out, back and forth on songs like ‘42.26’ and Algorhythm. It is hard to not sway in your seat to the groovy, mellow cuts, or bounce in place to the funky, punchy ones. There is so much effort in the production, with so many little things enveloping your sense of hearing at any given time, blanketing you in a comfy and warm set of vibrations.

            All these qualities add up to an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. And it is in that nostalgic wonder that Gambino presents his message. Songs like the robotic ‘Algorhythm’ remind the listener of the coming future. It’s a future where “Everyone’s an addict” to the face paced fury moving about us. Singing from the perspective of someone who’s already given up on humanity and its flawed form, Gambino raps, “Humans don’t understand, humans gon’ sell a lie, Humans gotta survive, we know we gon’ die, Nothing can live forever, you know we gon’ try, Life, is it really worth it? The algorythm is perfect, mmh”. Is the perfection of a machine, the machines we’ve built, better than the imperfections of humanity?

            With humanity comes destruction, evil, and all manners of unspeakable things. It’s easy to give up on any kind of redemption for us. Animals kill, humanity murders. With the freedom God gave us, comes the “Freedom of being wrong, freedom of being lost”. We bit the apple, Glover reminds us in very biblical terms. On the next song, ‘Time’, he reminds us of our fragile existence, saying “Maybe the sky will fall down on tomorrow, But one thing’s for certain, baby, We’re running out of time”. How can we find meaning without permanence?

            Gambino wisely slows down the existential panic with the next track, ‘12.38’, a raunchy R&B song with some clever and funny lyrics (“Most these n***** wanna run around with these SZAs [scissors]” and “I be flexing like I’m eating Popeye’s spinach”). A great feature from rapper 21 Savage ties the first end of the song until the outro explodes with a futuristic chorus of distorted and manipulated vocals. This gorgeously transitions into ‘19.10’, the next song. ‘19.10’ has Glover recalling his youth, when his father told him to always remember his intrinsic beauty. Then, suddenly and sharply, the beat slows and the melody is stopped. Dark ambient sounds fill the track. ‘24.19’ starts. It’s a sad and introspective love song, reminiscing of a lover whom he never deserved. “You wanna be happy? Don’t look at my phone” asks a younger Gambino to his “sweet thing”. Suddenly, the beat switches yet again. A bass guitar echoes, chimes sound, and the vocals start fading away. Then, out of the silence comes pounding drums, and gasping vocals that pick up speed and then fall away again. Industrial noise drowns out Glover’s mumbled singing on the next track ’32.22’. The chorus’ chants and shouts with the distorted pounds of drums are not unlike traditional African music. But, as Gambino does time and time again on 3.15.20, it is not simply a revisiting of older musical ideas, but rather, a reflection and modern interpretation of them.

 Next, the funky, rock influenced ’35.31’ has Donald Glover remembering harder times, selling drugs and dodging cops in his youth. It almost sounds like an old slave tune, as Gambino draws a parallel between the slavery of yore and the modern slavery a young black male might feel, trapped in a system of drugs and violence he cannot escape. The juxtaposition between the rough ‘32.22’ and the smooth and subtle ’35.31’ reminds me of Kanye’s Yeezus, in its dramatic tension-and-release style. Then comes ’39.28’, an autotune laced, piano heavy track that has Gambino questioning life. “Why go to the party at all?” repeats through the track, again and again, until the plucky keyboard of ’42.26’ materialize. Upbeat drums and nostalgic vocals tell a story of a scared Donald Glover: scared of the path the Earth is taking, scared no one can ever change.

The next track shows Glover scared of humanity and the violence they are capable of. “Little girl, thirteen, broke down, The violence, Little boys playing ’round, shot down, The violence, the violence” he sings on ’47.48’. The song concludes with a conversation Donald Glover has with his daughter. “What do you love?” he asks her. The last song on the record, ’53.49’, is a peppy song that has Gambino finally rapping as per usual. He references his dead father and his faith in an intensely personal and experimental funk song that acts as a great conclusion to the record. The last note is a slightly muffled, light drone—the same drone that began the album on ‘0:00’. A fitting finale to an unfinished question.

In 3.15.20, Donald Glover shows us a vision of two futures. One is a future where we forget our past and the violence we create destroys us. Another is a future where we remember where we came from, and learn from our mistakes. It is this caveat of a message that reminds me of the quote I put at the beginning of this review. We cannot just push forward without purpose. We can’t keep growing without real reason. It is this hurried sense of progress that causes downfall and suffering.

Gambino pushes the boundaries time and time again on his new album, really demonstrating an intensely personal side that I had not expected from him. I was continually surprised and inspired by 3.15.20, and this, mind you, comes from a doubter of Childish Gambino. The last time I enjoyed an album this much was 2019’s Igor by Tyler, the Creator. Brilliantly pulling elements from his past, but never dwelling on old ideas, Glover triumphs spectacularly on his modern take on funk and soul. I cannot wait for what’s next from him.

I give this album 9 Big Feet out of 10. Thanks for reading

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Review: U-Void Synthesizer by Machine Girl

U-Void Synthesizer is an album from Brooklyn native Matt Stephenson, aka Machine Girl. His sixth independent album, U-Void was released earlier this year on February 26th, 2020. Its experimental mix of digital, rave, industrial, and noise turned some heads, including mine. Though I had heard of the band before, I had never taken the time to listen to a full project from them, and when the record surfaced in late February, I gave it a look. Immediately after hearing it, I went and listened to the rest of Machine Girl’s catalog. Writer Paul Simpson aptly described the project as “equally apocalyptic and ecstatic”, influenced by punk, industrial, electronic, and dancehall. Even though I am not exactly new to the digital hardcore scene, being a big fan of Death Grips and dabbling in some other entry level electro-noise, Machine Girl was a revelation to me. Stephenson so elegantly takes the ferocity and vigor of artists like Zach Hill and Andy Morin, but also, an attention to detail that is almost mind-boggling.

The Bad: On occasion, U-Void can sound derivative. This is perhaps unavoidable in the oversaturated digital noisecore spring of Death Grips clones, but to call Machine Girl a copycat would still be unfair. Songs like ‘The Fortress (The Blood Inside)’ and ‘Scroll of Sorrow’ could have been lifted from 2016’s Bottomless Pit. The vocals are a little one dimensional, as Stephenson spends the entire 32 minutes of the album screaming his head off and not doing much else. Lyrically, there are a few moments that smack of melodrama rather than emotional honesty, like “My ugliness is not my fault, I know God just made me wrong” on ‘Scroll of Sorrow’. On a first listen, it is also too easy to get lost in the sea of sound that Machine Girl presents, cheapening the experience by clouding the real driving factors of a given song.

The Good: Machine Girl enjoys making you squirm. One example of this is ‘Splatter’, an aggressive and uncomfortable song that really takes a lot of attention to grasp.While this may be a turn off for many listeners, I actually enjoy it. The more maximalist approach to production is vivid, always throwing something new at you and relishing its bombastic violence. It doesn’t just hold your attention—it grabs it by the throat and doesn’t let go. Oppressive drums, melodies distorted to the point of nonsense, cryptic and visceral lyricism, waves of noise that devolve and evolve around themselves; everywhere, there is aggression, pure and unbridled. Stephenson captures the worst kind of emotions through blood and sweat. Songs like ‘Devil Speak’ and the closer, ‘Batsu Forever’ make my skin crawl and my head bang. There are political mumblings throughout, but they never sound preachy. Rather, they sound like genuine expressions of dissatisfaction and pain, in a fashion not unlike punk rock and its common messages. “Give me the womb, Give me the cure, Give me death” shouts Stephenson on ‘Blood Magic’. There are moments of great humor that contrast surprisingly well in the chaos around them, like the off-beat vocal snippets at the end of most songs (‘The Fortress’—“I don’t give a s***, send the f****** police!” and ‘Kill All Borders’—“I spy with my little eye”) or the random barks and woofs of dogs interspersed at points.

Conclusion: U-void Synthesizer consistently terrified and energized me. It’s this kind of aura that more music should try to find. This album didn’t just hold my attention—it grabbed me by the throat and didn’t let me breathe throughout its 11 tracks. But at the end, all I want is more. Stephenson’s creativity and brutal honesty are on full display, and it is wonderful. Every bit of the complicated and gritty instrumentals sounds poignant and purposeful. The onslaught almost seems to reflect the negative aspects of life itself, always trying to push and shove the listener with a washy of noises that are rough, and never seem to get better. Stephenson’s nihilistic view of existence is presented with courage and artistry, and that is commendable. The maximalism is like a reflection of the only way such a project could exist—the insanity and opportunity of the internet. Stephenson admits, his success is nearly all due to the chaotic nature of the internet, as sites like 4chan and Rate Your Music really forwarded his career by providing a platform and spreading his creations. Ordered in its chaos, beautiful in all its repulsive glory, Machine Girl triumphs with its newest work. While not a perfect project, U-Void Synthesizer fights tooth and claw for every note and beat, and is one of my favorite albums of the year so far.

I give this album 8 friendly dogs out of 10. Thanks for reading.

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