BUT SLEATER-KINNEY!!!!!! AAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAA
the courtyard looked pretty this morning
in other “i’m bad w/art” news: i think i really like this piece—it’s been stuck in my head for a few days, anyway—and i hate just saying “interesting” but that’s as far as i can get with it. it kind of reminds me of vines growing on old buildings, and tesla coils. any implications i’ve tried to chase out of those associations has felt trite, and i’m probably not even on the right track anyway.
playing this over and over and over and over
silkk the shocker - “where dey at” (from 3 strikes, 2000)
when i first encountered no limit back in i guess high school (which was not long after i started listening to rap at all actually, and that only went as far as the standard recent white guy convert stuff: wu, nas, doom, i think dre…) it was like an ironic thing—”lol how did this happen these guys are such bad rappers”—and i remember silkk’s awkwardass flow being a particular focal point of that; that weird jutting off the beat halting/cramming way of arranging syllables, like his tongue is all elbows. i’ve warmed to it a lot since. i mean, it does sound jarring, but i think that’s actually what i like about it. and i mean, it’s not just silkk’s limitations either, it was definitely a stylistic gene going around at the time. (soulja slim is great with it, for example—there’s a particularly dazzling display on "law brekaz".) aaaanyway, this beat on this track, a soundtrack cut, is an unusual but great fit for him: the weird jittery rhythms sound like his own internal sense of rhythm projected onto the track.
[the embed keeps getting fucked up—as in, the embed, not the video being embedded—i’m guessing it’s some tumblr doing some copyright cleanup shit, so if it goes down again just click the link]
holy shit bloody jay (he’s on at like 2:11). dude raps like he’s trying to beat the beat; refuses to engage its space conventionally…starts in on a measure a few seconds late and ducks out a few early, leaves weird spaces between words (“firin off these pistols…re’lentlessly”). and that one move that gets me every time, the halt/gear shift between ragged bursts and mushmouth croon (here former to latter, the reverse deployed excellently on his “florida water” verse).
i have thought a lot about just what it is that i find so interesting about cy twombly’s stuff and i have come to very few conclusions about it. it’s made harder by that, like…i’ve read enough art writing to be pretty aware of its tropes/cliches but i’m still not adept/confident enough to really be constructive with it. i keep starting and stopping myself like, “nahh that’s too easy a line” but then i can’t get beyond that. but idk, in this case i think it’s really that i am actually not clear on my opinions/feelings moreso than that i just can’t articulate them, so w/e for now. anyway, i think one of the solidest points i’ve come to is something about how he uses lots of conventionally legible elements, often pulled from outside/”sampled” (names, numbers, quotes, clippings of images/diagrams, etc), but the way in which he assembles them—his sense of composition i guess, is always hard to read; seems like some obscure, deeply internal logic. compared to a lot of other abstract expressionist&ish stuff that on a surface level his does kinda resemble often (the scratchy/scrawly/smeary aspect, at least), i find twombly’s more introverted…thoughtful, maybe, but in a messier/cluttered way that feels more like actual thought to me than the kind of slow, spacious thing that ppl usually call “thoughtful”…but i mean like, despite that mess/clutter and the intense physicality w/ how he uses the paint, i never find it has that action paint-y feel to it.
names, lines from poems are stuck in his paintings the way they get stuck in your head; they feel inextricable from whatever stuff they’re mired/floating in, but it’s hard to say how.
so i guess maybe how i don’t get it is what i like about it. idk.
swimfan is terrible. the closest thing to positive i can say about it is that, ok, it’s like 1hr25min, and so little has happened within the first ~45min that y’r like, “whoa, already?” but then in the last 25 minutes it’s such a fucking dogpile of SWERVE!!s that it’s kinda funny…but like it really does suck, though
I have been ruminating on the Lay’s Wavy Do Us a Flavor Mango Salsa chips for a few days, trying to figure out what to say about them.
They confuse me.
They should be delicious.
They have a nice sweetness about them.
And a subtle piquant quality about them from the unnamed ‘spice’ noted on the list of ingredients.
But the mango doesn’t play nice.
It has such a distinct dourness about its aftertaste that it works against the overall balance of flavors, even playing up the oily quality of the chip in such a way that the experience of eating it frustrates the palate a little.
I wouldn’t say chips can’t be sweet.
The Cappuccino and Cinnamon Bun Lay’s of late work well with flavor profiles you don’t necessarily associate with potato chips.
But fruit flavors, they don’t seem to mesh well with potato chips.
They are a bit too pronounced.
In such a way that seems to say even they know there is something incongruous about the whole situation.
But, you know, not in an apologetic way.
And you sit there trying to understand the weird conundrum you are presented with, finding them not quite offensive enough that you can’t eat them, but not so flavorful that you reach for them when you’re peckish.
And yet, when you eat them, you may eat a few more than you intended to just trying to understand the logic behind them, how they work.
So it’s kind of an intellectual experience, I guess.
How many times can you say that about a chip?
this sounds like pretty much exactly my experience with the cinnamon bun ones
re:sweet chips; maybe a salted caramel kinda flavor would work? because then you wouldn’t have to play against the chip’s natural saltiness
this is probably my favorite tank posse cut (and in fact, the two kane&abel albums are maybe my favorite no limit releases). this listen i’m especially liking whichever (or is it both?) of kane or abel is on first—not because it’s a particularly great verse, but dude is just going for it, like somebody said “hey, you’re first on a track with six other rappers who, lbr, are probably almost all better than you”, and he got his war face on and charged into the booth yelling. but almost everyone gets a highlight: mac’s tongue-twisty “flip em like burger king workers be flippin burgers”, finger-fucking gats and the viscerally ugly “bullet in they bones”; fiend making “consultation begins to happen when i’m rappin” sound like a real threat; big ed’s snazzy little call&response bit (though dude responding sounds like ed just barged in and yelled him out of a weednap).
Gustave Doré, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (Samuel Taylor Coleridge), Harper & Brothers, New York, 1876.