Young Fathers – Cocoa Sugar

youngfathersYoung Fathers is one of these groups that constantly releases good shit. They have been uncompromising in their sound ever since their conception. But, when they started to come into some recognition (winning the Mercury Prize in 2014, and their songs being half of the Trainspotting 2 soundtrack) I wondered if these guys had anything more to offer the world. Well, I’m proud to say that this motherfucker is by far their best work to date. They took a long fucking break after their big break. And instead of succumbing to making subpar, easy to swallow, bullshit tracks that would have had them swimming in pools of dirty panties, slick money, and busting briefs, they dug deep and came up with something different; a fucking soul. Do you know how fucking rare that story is? Seriously, how inspiring is that? Remember the ’80s? Most of that decade was basically renowned artists sucking on the fat tit of whatever cash cow came first. Even Bowie himself admitted to that. And if you need proof, just search “Jagger”, “Bowie”, and “dancing in the street” on YouTube. That is a shit that will never, ever, flush. It’s watching two beloved artists fly away on clouds of cheap money, rainbows, and most of all, mountains of high end Colombian cocaine.

At any point Young Fathers could have also gone full sellout and done just fine for themselves. Nobody would have faulted them for it because, honestly, we’re used to it. They could’ve been headlining big tours and making thousands of people shrug for miles around while saying, “it’s okay, I guess”. Instead, these guys stepped up, forwent the fucking cash, and went for credibility and art instead.

Fucking finally. Even if you hate their tunes, you gotta give these motherfuckers some props for that.

Even if this album does make money, don’t hate, they fucking deserve it. They went for the difficult. At first, I didn’t know I desperately needed experimental Edinburghian indie Hip Hop in my life. Now I’m a fucking addict and I’ll soon see dead babies traversing my ceiling (Hah? Get it? Trainspotting reference? See … that’s what cheap and easy looks like.) This trio cross-country skies over Indie, Hip Hop, Punk, and Pop and makes that shit look slick as fuck while wearing brightly coloured onesies. It’s stripped down and raw. It has Scottish fables lined within the lyrics. These guys thrive on being the outcast and flipped the narrative on itself. While all those cool ass motherfuckers of Hip Hop ride in badass cars and throw cash up in the air, these guys drove a shitbag putter box around the block and made it sound twice as good. All I gotta say is putt-putt motherfuckers. Putt-Putt. 


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