by John Bear
Daily Lobo
If you have ever wondered what the inner workings of my mind sound like after an extended alcoholic bender, may I suggest Prefuse 73's latest offering, Security Screenings.
Self-described as break dance noise rock - whatever that means - Prefuse most definitely embodies the spirit of avant-garde hip-hop instrumentation. It is experimental as all hell, but at the same time possesses a distinct accessibility - that is, it never goes too far off the deep end.
I remember seeing the name Prefuse 73 on Definitive Jux records' roster, which is no surprise, because the sound present here fits in well with producers such as El-P. It's just a little more out there, wherever "there" happens to be.
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The standard rock 'n' roll beat - one, two, three, four - is usually shunned in favor of a more stilted, staggering one. Twisted abstract electronics form the melodies as well as sampled instruments which are in turn flipped, distorted and barely recognizable.
After a rather bizarre intro where a vocal sample is progressively slowed down, leaving the listener with the impression he or she is being transported on a musical journey, the album launches head-long into full-scale abstract musical madness.
"With Dirt and Two Texts - Afternoon Version" stutters and sputters with off-kilter drum patterns, taking a full 40 seconds before the main course is served up. Haunted and distant keyboard stabs share the stage with heavily distorted and decidedly blunted bass hits. Definitely a mood piece, it reminds me of a bad hangover or the impending feeling of doom that accompanies the end of a massive acid freak-out.
The track clocks in at 3:25, and I must say I feel kind of hollowed out after three or four listens - that is a good thing, musically speaking.
"Keeping Up With Your Quota" is written in some time signature that doesn't exist on the real number scale. Seriously, this track is skewed beyond anything remotely mathematical. It is the musical equivalent of a liter of scotch doing gastrointestinal battle with four or five Percocets.
The nasty hangover feeling returns in the nausea-inducing bass line which, honestly, makes me want to vomit frosted Cheerios all over my K-Swiss and then hit rewind. The bass couples nicely with the electronic bells and whistles which progress several times throughout the track.
"Weight Watching" strikes a sort of RJD2 note with gentle percussion focusing more on cymbals than typical boom-snap bass drum and snare.
The melody, which consists of what sounds like classical guitar being played in reverse, ascends and then descends with a quiet, sleepy beauty. This would make me fall asleep if it wasn't causing tears to well up in the corners of my eyes. Damn, I didn't know hip-hop could sound so lovely.
"When the Grip Lets You Go" almost goes on a standard hip-hop instrumental course, but it quickly makes a hard left and leaves any semblance of normality choking in its wake.
"Creating Cyclical Headaches" picks up the pace of things with a pounding - but not too pounding - one-two bass drum snare combination that remains relatively constant. Crazy, wholly unpredictable feedback patterns - if you can, indeed, call something this chaotic a pattern - compliment the melody.
The album becomes progressively more wild and out of control in sound and technique but retains a certain gentle beauty. It is noisy but never annoying. It reaches its center with "No Origin," an exercise in sonic entropy where swaggering horn samples compete with odd vocal samples over highly stilted break beats.
This is the part of the morning after when you finally drag your sorry ass out of bed for an unsuccessful attempt at tooth brushing that ends with the inevitable coating of the sink in stomach acid. I know this is a strange and arguably retarded metaphor, but trust me, it works.
