He wipes away the night before from his eyes in a bid to present himself as a high definition canon. Pointing and clicking to a world of cloud rap and polygon R&B, he plays up to the themes of fantasy, watching Vikter Duplaix offering ladies a ride on his Light Cycle on “Waiting”. Maximalist and dubstep-ish manoeuvers, with some blurry chillwave poured over neo-soul, join his amalgamation that prefers convergence over single file: the slow jazz injection of the provocative “Morning After Pills” is a runaway rebel, still found dragging its heels.
Cruising the beat scene, the synth formulae of LA’s Sweatson Klank stretch and slink, wax and wane and impact like slowed thunder and lightning, bouncing off bass notes, calmly, at times impassively floating in fluorescent waters. A sometime cause for vocalists to sound too hushed, as with Pat Parra on “Still Dark,” Klank rolls as a slow tide, sinking voices on the soaring yet dissatisfied burial at sea “Chasing You”, though Doc Illingsworth is as animated as “15 Bucks” and “Till The End” dictate.
The sex talk of Deniro Farrar turns the galaxian glides into a slightly heavier, dourer mass, and Mobb Deep sampled on “Contemplate” is a curious adornment when opening the doorway to relaxation. Klank exhales the modern unreality (that most from the beat scene are on) of everything being thought activated from the comfort of a virtual couch, so smoke will get in your ears.
File under: Tropics, Take, Lockah