Se Llamo es Max Bell.
La música de Harry Fraud es bueno. Pero la música de Harry Fraud con Curren$y es fantástico. Juntos, ellos nos dan Los Barcos de Cigarrillos. Lo siento. That’s what three years of high school Spanish and Google translate will do for you.
Cigarette Boats is Miami Vice. It’s the gangster soundtrack that we all wanted for that movie, while instead Gosling played an autistic wheelman. It’s Tony Montana sitting comfortably (before the fall). It’s the style Ross will wish he’d adopted once he’s drained every drop of juice from super-villain producer Lex Luger. (I believe Luger’s slipped something into his beats that forces producers to imitate him. He is an evil genius who must be stopped. Or maybe it’s just me, my comic books, and my conspiracy theories).
So, let’s start talking about this thing by agreeing that Fraud is in top form here. His drums are crisp and crunchy. The samples are caked with something much whiter than dust. Plus, Fraud’s filtered this clearly 80s-inspired project through Curren$y’s light-one-and-lay-back aesthetic. ”
Cigarette Boats is proof that Curren$y may work best within the EP format. While The Stoned Immaculate has its moments, it’s nowhere near as solid. Had it been condensed, trimmed down to the purest kush, stems and sticks aside, you could argue that it was his greatest album to date. But as Spitta Andretti proved on Covert Coup and both Pilot Talk’s, he’s exceptionally focused when working with one producer and keeping features to a minimum (Styles P and Smoke DZA make brief albeit solid appearances here).
“Leaving the Dock” may cover the usual lyrical tropes, but Curren$y glides in his figurative nautical projectile while delivering some of his best and most hilarious lines about the women in his life: “Bitches see my bitches and consider trying women” or “I’d advise you to play your position/For you see another hoe in your jersey, trying to score thirty/Ya heard me” are shining examples. Though, it’s on “Biscayne Bay” that Curren$y sums up his tireless grind better than anyone in recent memory: “Tennis shoes, t-shirts, lunch boxes—fuck it/If it could be sold, then let’s do it/If it could sold we gon move it/I got the driveway to prove it.” It’s just another way of saying that he, Sir Spitta Andretti, is not going to stop lapping these lames. So for me, as long as it’s a short race, I’m putting my money on the man with money in his name. Jets.
ZIP: Curren$y & Harry Fraud — Cigarette Boats EP (Left-Click)