Para One is back, and a sigh of joy drifts up from central business districts all over the world. Rumors abound. Actual overheard conversation (in a bus):
—It’s called “Clubhoppn EP”.
—OMFG. “Clubhoppn”? You sure?
—“Clubhoppn EP”. Don’t forget the “EP”.
—You heard it?
—Sure did. It’s, like, something that gleams and, like, each and every texture glistens but you can dance to it.
—You can?
—Trust me. You can dance and even, like, shimmy to some of it. If that’s your thing.
—Is it better than the now legendary “Beat Down”?
—“Beat Down EP”. That’s for you to say, buster.
—Jesus on a stick!
Undisclosed sources proclaim that after a string of wondrous remixes for the likes of Agoria and a flurry of hits for French hip hop reigning crew TTC, “Para One done did it again”.
“La télé l'après midi” boasts one of the most err, shall we say, retarded spoken introduction in recent memory. Then it’s highways-at-night future funk, fusing the sense of danger of driving too fast a car just a tad too souped-up with the dark fuck-it-all pride you get from not dying at the last hairpin.
Thanks to CA virtuoso Busdriver, “Severed God Limbs” boasts one of the most elegant opening in recent memory. Busdriver raps off-piste, like some tall, dark and gruesome slalom skier. It is fortunate that Para One can still hug the various variform flows offered by the Project Blowed emcee (who also worked with Daedelus, TTC and Dangermouse). Imagine the World Class Wrecking Crew getting back together and deciding, on a lark, to do some jazz. Then Yella says, “OK, but it won’t be jazzy.” See what I mean, buster?
“What the fuck is wrong wit ya?” begins “Clubhoppn”. This one is for the dancefloors. Please note the plural. “Clubhoppn” is housy and funky, all sliced up and broken in the middle, evolving into a glitch-free maze of trancey melodies, leaving behind all the squealing pig sounds to blossom into pure bliss. Cue hands in the air. Some pumping, some waving. Alternative title: Let me wreck you.
—It’s called “Clubhoppn EP”.
—OMFG. “Clubhoppn”? You sure?
—“Clubhoppn EP”. Don’t forget the “EP”.
—You heard it?
—Sure did. It’s, like, something that gleams and, like, each and every texture glistens but you can dance to it.
—You can?
—Trust me. You can dance and even, like, shimmy to some of it. If that’s your thing.
—Is it better than the now legendary “Beat Down”?
—“Beat Down EP”. That’s for you to say, buster.
—Jesus on a stick!
Undisclosed sources proclaim that after a string of wondrous remixes for the likes of Agoria and a flurry of hits for French hip hop reigning crew TTC, “Para One done did it again”.
“La télé l'après midi” boasts one of the most err, shall we say, retarded spoken introduction in recent memory. Then it’s highways-at-night future funk, fusing the sense of danger of driving too fast a car just a tad too souped-up with the dark fuck-it-all pride you get from not dying at the last hairpin.
Thanks to CA virtuoso Busdriver, “Severed God Limbs” boasts one of the most elegant opening in recent memory. Busdriver raps off-piste, like some tall, dark and gruesome slalom skier. It is fortunate that Para One can still hug the various variform flows offered by the Project Blowed emcee (who also worked with Daedelus, TTC and Dangermouse). Imagine the World Class Wrecking Crew getting back together and deciding, on a lark, to do some jazz. Then Yella says, “OK, but it won’t be jazzy.” See what I mean, buster?
“What the fuck is wrong wit ya?” begins “Clubhoppn”. This one is for the dancefloors. Please note the plural. “Clubhoppn” is housy and funky, all sliced up and broken in the middle, evolving into a glitch-free maze of trancey melodies, leaving behind all the squealing pig sounds to blossom into pure bliss. Cue hands in the air. Some pumping, some waving. Alternative title: Let me wreck you.
Tracklisting
