May 16, 2012

Son Raw thinks this song could use a better title, but what’cha gonna do.

Dubstep no longer wobbles, it pummels the listener with a sheer wall of morphing subfrequencies heavy enough to split the atom and modify the listener’s molecular structure. Or maybe that’s the drugs, or the plot of a summer blockbuster – either way, massive walls of bass are to London as gothic 808 beats are to Southern Hip-Hop: a staple food where progression is measured in incremental shifts in the formula rather than innovation on the macro-level. This latest missive from Stinkahbell and Psy-Am find the producers teaming up with P-Money’s OGz to craft a high energy club banger that’s high on testosterone, serotonin and aggression and low on subtlety. Like the best Grime, it’s jarring to US ears used to whispers and liquid flows but it’s also a million times more interesting than anything Death Grips have put out and perfectly compatible with the crunked up trap rap that Flocka trades in. Plus that intro where they geek-out over the beat is about as endearing an aside as you’re likely to get in a genre that prides itself on grim-faced seriousness.


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