(Gonna have to be a shorter review. I’ve got a cold, motherfuckers.)
Ohhhh fuck ya. That’s the nasty shit. The descendant of mista vinegar and misso lemon fucking up a stripper pole, dropping that shit, and giving ya a super sour face. This music is sick in that way that makes you cringe while you dance. It hits hard. Hell, it better fucking hit hard when you’re remixing a SOPHIE track (SOPHIE also co-produces a track) and JPEGMAFIA makes an appearance.
I’ve listened to Flume (Harley Edward Streten) before, this is far by the best shit I’ve heard from the Aussie. It’s like the music developed a personality. I’m meeting the shit. It introduced itself. We’re having discussions. Now we’re getting coffee. It made me laugh. Oh fuck, it’s touching my leg. It takes me back to its place. We have a drink. We’re very naked. We want to meet up again. Shit didn’t work like this last time I met up with Flume’s work Skin. We got coffee. It didn’t ask questions. It didn’t look up on its phone. It left halfway through and left me with the cheque. Sure, lots of people liked it. It was super popular. But I didn’t get it. This album is so different I have a difficult time understanding that it’s the same artist. I can’t help but ask, what the fuck happened?
I’ve tried to find out. The closest explanation I can get is that the focus on this album is different. On Skin, Harley went for a crowd pleaser. It’s like going to a fancy restaurant and seeing chocolate cake for dessert. This shit isn’t challenging. But most people are going to order that motherfucker because the taco banana split topped with a deep-fried scorpion and caramel sauce is too fucked up for Grandma. But it’s that little drop of poison that makes this shit work.