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Mykki Blanco

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Mykki Blanco, the alter ego of 25-year-old Michael Quattlebaum (seriously, how often do you get an alias that’s less weird than the real name?), is a remarkable proposition. A transvestite “acid punk rapper”, who has turned heads not just through cross-dressing but with some truly fierce, deep-space hip-hop, Blanco is all about fucking with people’s heads. For example, who else would insist on releasing an album of industrial psych rock before the rap record that everyone’s clamouring for comes out? Raised in North Carolina via California, Blanco now operates out of (where else) New York, where the music and fashion scenes are falling ever deeper in thrall.

There are, of course, similarities to Nikki Minaj that run beyond a familiar-sounding first name. The predeliction for gender-blurring multiple identities is one, and the confrontational, occasionally histrionic delivery is another. Admittedly, Blanco’s rapping isn’t quite as ear-catching as Minaj’s (despite the lyrics often being hilariously brilliant: “What the fuck I gotta prove to a room full of dudes / Who ain’t listening to my words cuz they staring at my shoes”), but the productions are fantastic. “Betty Rubble (I GOT THE MIDAS TOUCH)”, produced by Gobby, is sparse and sinister, with Blanco’s vocals twisted and helium-ized, while the astonishing “Wavvy”, produced by the be-quiffed Brenmar, is an absolute stomper that knocks the ball not just out of the park but somewhere beyond the nineteenth moon of Jupiter.

Hip hop was getting into a rut a couple of years ago, full of tedious, identikit rappers with not an ounce of imagination between them. Now, with artists like Spoek Mathambo, Le1f, THEESatisfaction, A$AP Rocky and the whole unpredictable Odd Future crew around, things are finally starting to heat up again. Mykki Blanco is the most bizarre arrival yet. Don’t take your eyes off him (or his shoes).

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Group Rhoda

Group Rhoda
Mara Barenbaum, you suspect, is a subscriber to the idea that less is more. The San Franciscan's debut album, recently released on London's intriguing Night School Records under her Group Rhoda moniker, is an exercise in the effectiveness of simplicity. Barenbaum, working alone, employs little more than simple, unembellished drum machine rhythms and the barest keyboard accompaniment to her ghostly vocal melodies. Yet, though the formula is simple, the result is surprising - what starts off seeming like it'll barely keep your attention ends up putting you in a trance. The title of her album, "Out of Touch - Out of Time", seems a little tongue in cheek. While the tools and production are admittedly very late seventies/early eighties, most obviously channeling the stark sound of Suicide, the overall effect is hardly out of touch - Group Rhoda fits very much into the niche carved by Maria Minerva, Julia Holter and even Peaking Lights (only much, much colder). The music is certainly not out of time either - the rigid drum patterns see to that. While their are brighter moments, such as the oddly tropical "Hi Rise" (like a tracing paper outline of Gang Gang Dance), the human element is dislocated, akin to finding an intimate photo of someone else's family being blown down an empty alleyway. Even the catchier songs like "Fire" are more like spectres of pop than pop itself, which just makes them all the more appealing. It seems Group Rhoda haunt you in all the best ways.
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EP Address: Datassette, Sudan Archives, Mighty Lord Deathman and more…

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