Monster Rally mixes oceanic steel sounds with galactic waterflow beats. Glassy and tin-canned reverbs; Sunday songs. Ted Feighan is the beach wizard behind these lazily lovely tracks and he has done wonderfully in crafting, out of samples and serious stoned-slowdown, songs that make the sky feel intertwined with the dirt and the ocean flow over your feet in the easy comfort of the grassy backyard in your head.
you wanna explode into your head, into the great written jungles under the vines of sunny mysticism- you wanna purple, you wanna meander through and be serious about clasping at the brilliant jelly bean kernels of spirit hype. yet there's never really enough time around.... and then you're thinking "why can't i just control myself, just even a little bit more." and then you wonder what that would look like; how much anybody really controls their Self... what makes us so sure that Self exists or needs any kind of control? is there something that's been sitting on my shoulder hanging out in the moonlight all these years?
and i forget. forget and move towards the center, the never noticing happening-
there is only as suchness while the cats are battling.
It's hard, initially, to think of what else there is to be said about the insanely young and gifted members of Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All (affectionately OFWGKTA)... it's all been said, and said, and said, and said and... well you get the idea. The blog hype cycle is a magnifying glass in the hot sun, spotlighting the luckiest ants until the focus and the heat destroys them or makes them truer by fire... and it really remains to be seen if, how, and in what incarnation the enigmatic OFWGKTA crew will come out the other side... when the internets are tired of them because the internets' attention span craves new, NOW!- not necessarily better... just new. But these young oddball backpack kids with twisted lyrics, from the depths of the mental decay of a nation, in the depths of one its richest and foulest places, braced by a blacklight sun burning a zombie confidence... these kids seem poised to go the route of the Wu-Tang Clan; making music their own way, with their own equipment and producers and (largely) without much regard to what you think or feel of say about it. I like that.
Whatever you feel about their remarkably diverse and extensive catalog of free music to examine the bloody night by; they have talent and they have a point and, importantly, they don't give a fuck what you think. So, however much I may be compelled to call bullshit (or the campus police) when I see OF ring-leader Tyler, The Creator tweet about burning down schools and killing people... I bear in mind that this rejection of sanctity and desire to pulverize the assumed moral uprightness of the status quo is what being a confident and intelligent teenager is all about these days. The art seems evil to some people because, bafflingly, some people still believe in evil... there is a discussion to be had here that is much bigger than the wiry and nonchalant duo performing (with badasses Bass Drum of Death) in the video below... but that discussion is best saved for another day; after time has told its tale of how Odd (or stale) the Future turns out to be. For now, feast your eyes and ears on OF members Mellowhype (pictured above; consisting of rapper Hodgy Beats and producer Left Brain)... they are coming for the marrow of night, for your kids' soft heads, for all of our lazy and meaningless comfort. Like youth-turned-monster pre-punk punk Jim Morrison before them... they want the world and they want it NOW. Or maybe they just want attention. Anyhow... with a game this filthy-tight; Hodgy Beats and Left Brain prove that they deserve it.
Please pay them money for having made these songs and admit loudly that you'd like for them to make more. Be red in eye and prospects, grow over seas, and call and call. Open up a grander staircase- and fall...
"Golden Girl" is a joyful blur like a picture of best times taken way too drunk. "Touching Down" is a romp of a song, somewhere forgotten near the sneer of Mick Jagger and the sweetness of Paul McCartney... but then it almost sounds surfer... and a Swedish blonde and trotting love affair with the sugar structure of pure pop.