There’s something about every great house song that propels it beyond the rest of the pack, but it’s hard to explain to others. It’s that this song could ping-pong up the Andes and you’d still catch it on the coast of the Galapagos. It’s about fist-pumping on Percoset instead of steroids and red bull. It uses the full spectrum of sound, and every frequency is perfectly poured into the frosted-ass mug of your eardrum. It’s knowing that this music was not written, but designed, and that’s more okay than anything ever.
Maya makes noise out of annoyance. Listening to the bouncing marble drum loop here reminded me of “Steppin’ Up,” the first real song on her last label-released album. It opens with power tool whines and returns to various bit-sized drills every chorus. “Teqkilla,” one of the other tracks, includes the sharp strikes of a metal bolt shaken in an Erlenmeyer flask (as best I can identify it). I refuse to stop mentioning that “Meds and Feds” samples my fave assaulters, Sleigh Bells.
And her willingness to recycle the annoying, overwhelming sounds into an eclectic version of pop (the most straightforward genre there is) is inspiring for a guy who hopes to learn the rules of art and then (only then!) play with them from within. Forget her politics or her politeness— her music plows ahead, unabashed, and the dust floating in the aftermath is kicked away by a crowd of converts.
Thank God we got penitentiaries.
I asked a [convict], ‘why did you kill everybody in the house?’ The guy said ‘They was home.’
Richard Pryor, Live on the Sunset Strip
It’s not just the words. His inflection for the murderer sounds so light-hearted, almost like if you had a pet hippopotamus that spoke English and it only wanted your approval and also casually spoke about murder. “Sank a boat. Killed two people.” “Why?” “They were in the river.”
Edit: even though they all aren’t actually playing, just slapping paws on their various instruments, her character makes no attempt, despite holding a bow and no violin (fiddle? oh god is that a fiddle? well this has poked a pretty big hole in my image with text on it .) part in the song. But I think just the presence of a violin is enough for us to read “authenticity!” which is like the opposite of how music videos used to be, right? crazy
Accidentally found this remix by browsing Designated Hits, a collection of baseball players’ selected at-bat music (David Phelps, pitcher for the Yanks, if you must know). I can imagine a parallel Brian listening to this instead of Ke$ha in a cosmically-balancing sort of way.