El-P, founder of
Def Jux, is not your average rap artist. His themes and style are frequently lush and apocalyptic. While
Deep Space 9mm launched '
El-Producto', cleverly futuristic works like
Stepfather factory,
Flyentology with Trent Reznor or the darker Tasmanian Pain Coaster are his hallmark. He recently released
a new mixtape free online, along with the
lyrics pdf for his album. He also recently remixed a song from MTV's TRL, warping it into a
chaotic police state jam, mirroring other songs of his with themes of
authority and control.
Because his delivery can be like listening to raw html, it's hard to appreciate the lyrical construction behind works like
Poisenville Kids No Wins until the words are right there.
"And I felt like a hundred bucks in the pocket of a gambling lush/ at a wondershowzen
flow with the droids of destructo luck/ fugitoid on the run again/ the sky gleamed the
maroonist coloring/ layered against the bluest tone from where the thunder lived/ and
there I was directly under it/ like some dejected little grey they told to stay and wait for
the mothership/ a cotton ball in a blizzard of mischief or brain prison/ with a thought that
rode on the bus and came for conjugal visits/ and fucked its way into my grey matter the
tattered territory/ stayed chattering and nagging till it demanded it yell it for me/ and I tried
to hold the thing back but the meditation was otherly/ fixated on what a friend said and
relating it to my struggling/ “metropoloid void so damn smothering”/ but we were children
of poisenville and saw the seduction less repugnant/ and reserved the right as the
triggerman with the back up plan of self destruction/ and I touched the type of chemicals
that could pull me towards that function/ it’s the stuff I find hard for discussion/ how the
fuck do you explain your own self-destruction and still remain trusted?"
The
lyrics for Tasmanian Pain Coaster are similarly, rewardingly dense.
"I swagger with rats tappin’ the glass in a government lab/ pass me the gloves/
mask and a flask of the cheapest liquor you have/ in the back of the tasmanian
path/ insane again laughin’/ cacklin’ at the randomness of the city and all its facts/
the dark art of interrogation agent skippin’ class/ and at last in a flash on my tip toes
walkin’ on cracked glass/ gats blast and wiz by fast or just/ catch in my calves like
“hold that”/ in other words: I’m trash/ glad you asked"
posted by jayder at 9:05 PM on July 10, 2008 [2 favorites]