Saturday, May 23, 2015


I like to think I'm an open minded guy.  Outside of rap, I like everything from John Mayer to Jason Mraz.  But despite that, I've always been a vicious racist when it concerns rap music's mayonnaise coalition.  In the contemporary "smells like wet dog" scene, A-Wax is the only devil I can get behind (nullus), and even then he had to put out a record as perfect as "Maury Dance" to overcome my intolerance.  Can you blame me? Whiteface stooges like Machine Gun Kelly and Asher Roth have set their people back at least 15 years. By co-signing that, I'm co-signing hate :(.

This kid Pouya appears to be of Caucasian extraction (con sabor latino), but the eyeball test is not conclusive proof of Pouya's T.R.I.B.E.  Maybe he got 1/128th of aborigine like Sista Azalea does.  In his favor, he looks like the kind of creep who cleans up used paper towels in a porno theater.  He is also associated with the remnants of Raider Klan, a crew that typically rubbed me the wrong way.  In most cases they seemed to take the reblog aspect of Tumblrcore a little too seriously, but maybe that's what happens when your leader plays out his complacency of influence on record.  If we talkin nadir, their druggy sub-Based sketches are on some "Let me tell you about my mushroom trip" hippie shit.   Cocaine raps are the only drug raps for me.

His South Side Slugs mixtape is a mixed bag of familiar associations run thru a bedroom filter: quotations of trap bangers, Raider Klan generica, obligatory nihilism.  A skinny white nerd making any form of rap music is something I am predisposed to hating, but I fucks with "Suicidal Thoughts In The Back Of The Cadillac," cause it strays from the usual '90s Memphis/Based God axis that so much Raider Klan material revolves around.  The raps aren't quite there yet, consisting mainly of the Bone Thuggery and Lordly Infamy one would expect, but the songwriting makes this'un stand above the others.  It's the kind of hook-driven country-blues rap that the James Vances and Raymond Belknaps of today might blast as they blow off their heads. Catch me in the hoopdie bumpin this n tattooing disembodied E cups on my arm with a stick 'n' poke.