Whoever is in charge of YGT’s biography and write ups needs a fucking promotion.
According to their website, “Gregor Kocijančič, Fejzo Košir and Mina Fina all met in Panama City on independent journeys in quest of the enchanted skull of a sudamerican indian boyprince.” Is this bullshit? Who knows. But these obfuscating motherfuckers don’t just distort with their words. At certain moments in this album, you’ll think this is basic run-of-the-mill trip hop. It’s crisp. It’s clear. It’s funky. But then something happens. Something within this hip orchestra distorts and sounds suddenly sick. The kick drum gets nauseous. The snare woofs its cookies in a garbage can. The synth’s face turns sour as it pisses itself. The rest of the song will follow this strange disease. Piece by piece, all the instruments get infected. Then, they arrive to some new destination. A better place. And the whole fucking process starts over again.
There are two stories you can choose from on what this band is. There’s what they say and the one I say. If mine is wrong, please don’t climb up my ass.
Summary of theirs (I suggest reading the original): They went to Panama City to find some skull. At the base of some crazy mountain, they decided to get seriously high off some shaman shit. You know, in order to help find the skull (shrugs). The shaman turns out to be Dionysus (aka Bacchus and Eleutherios) the Greek god of getting fucked up on wine and dancing like mad. They get high, decide to make music, and peace the fuck out. At this point, they say they were whelped in some asparagus field in Ljubljana. This is confusing as all fuck, because whelping is when a female dog, a bitch, gives birth. So, technically, according to them, the band is made of a bitch and two sons of bitches.
Summary of mine: YGT is made up of three Slovenian fucks: Gregor Kocijančič that throws down synths, vocals, and bass guitar, Aljaž “Fejzo” Košir that bangs the drums, and Mina Fina that does bad ass video projections. Now why are video projections part of a fucking band? Cause that’s how important the visual media is to these sons of bitches (and bitch). It’s been three years since their last album. They changed their name from Your Gay Thoughts to YGT last month. They make cool fucking music.
This music is trip hop on a morphine drip. The atmospherics on this motherfucker are slick. I wish all my days felt how this shit sounds. It’s warm, relaxing, and slightly odd. It’s what I imagine an infant feels the moment it shits itself. If you’re making a “chill mix”, put this on there right the fuck now. This is the music that should accompany those delightful walks home after a great night hanging with friends. You’re tired and half in the bag, the sun is rising, and fuck does it ever feel good.