You Can’t Mind Fuck the Mind Fucker: Metaphysics? Not so much…that’s for the blog crowd making the leap from the L to the G train cause times are tight now for daddy too…it’s more Meta Great Awakening, the old man in the woods who taps the trees to make his maple syrup. His thoughts are not of heaven, he sees how the gods got dusted 2300 years ago as soon as Euclid turned a cube in to a dodecahedron. After that, what’s your puny god gonna do? It’s the wonder that snaps back and forth across space and time in the dome of a Sugar Street resident that paints the page of Rig 2.
There’s a gang of course, a support crew; a posse that keeps the spaceship moving: Clark Baechle doesn’t make beats, he writes code for robots that transform into drum machines when they leave the bar…Jacob and Dapose from the Faint are here, as is Walcott, the maestro who offends entire philharmonics with his 4th dimensional charts that twist like vines around Mayan time machines. The vocal purr of Orinda Fink and the planet-naming Fairchild Fairchild (how are you man) both contribute to the soup. And keeping the whole thing from spinning out of orbit is Andy LeMaster, not so much a producer, but a product of his own heat-soaked fantasy of what music needs to sound like if the aliens are ever going make a pit stop on our rock.
The diagonal figure that is Rig 1 works in a medium some call rap, but it’s only a launch pad for his sounds…his relationship with Curiosity started the minute the heat shield was jettisoned. He’s looking into the center of rap to find out if there was ever life before art, he breathes that red dust and confirms his suspicions. He jots it down on a napkin, tells K1 to take it down a notch, gives the woman who runs the Church a goodbye hug and mutters to himself in the rain, sex and salt addicts get out of my way.
It’s time to go to school people. Headphones on, tennis rackets down… enjoy this record. It’s not like you will get a second chance on this ball of evil to think outside all the boxes at once.