I didn't expect to be hitting the nostalgia pipe so hard this week. Thirty years of rap evolution reveals itself. The flow and production feel very of-the-time. The album's framing of a telephone robo operator is incredibly foreign now. But none of this patina is taken in a bad way, rather I get real comfort from it. It doesn't hurt the music is so fun, so earnest. Turns out I don't need to be railroaded by skull crushing beats and mumble lyrics, even if I love those things, I can enjoy something more stripped down. I wouldn't mind getting a Carvel milkshake right now.
Does 70% of music really get played at night? 50% of all time is night right? Maybe in '93, or maybe I'm the anomaly. I've been midmorning marauded.
No comments:
Post a Comment