Wednesday, April 20, 2005
there is no reason
Houston rap has gotten too big. I feel bad for the aural umph K-Otix, VG Skillz and the host of other underground rappers whose talent have been pushed aside by Mike Jones' boring flow and the rest of the post-Screw collective. Bitterness and nineties nostalgia aside, Houston rap requires a whole different aesthetics and shinier boombox. Slow flows, beats sprinkled with glitzy synthesizers and downtown NY minimalist strings that pop up from time to time: the sound of futureghettos. Its hotness divided by fifth ward racialized realism and drum machines squared.
I like it like I like pan dulce.
