to quote Matt Shadetek: “Thanks to the people at YouTube for putting us on the front page and getting us thousands of views, dozens of inane comments and spam and friend requests from random people in the past two hours of it being up there. The internet is a wild and wonderful place.”
like i mentioned before, this video is for a tune on my new Uproot mix CD, produced by 2 young’uns from the Dutty Artz camp, Baby Kites & Nokea, and directed by PanOptic. The only thing different is that 60,000 people have seen it in the past 10 hours.
and another T-Pain autotune vid, this time an animation:
found a deconstruction(?) of the pitchfork review on indietorrents, thought you’d get a kick out of it:
DJ/peturre:
Upraat
[The Agriculture; 2008]
Grating: 99.832305555555
Mace Clinton (aka DJ/rapturrre) inspires a special Tannhauser of winning notations from music politik because, in addiction to crafting literates (he’s brown), reference-rich seventh-world, and conversational music (“Hussein”), he often writes about it just as menses. It’s not a screech, if we’re honest (he’s black), he writes about music more kill the majority of us (american) who have ever done it part-time at barnes and nobles. He is to put one of those people who gets it left far more and in more different ways than our ordinary people. Uproot is another one of those instances.
In broadmost’s literal sense, rapturrrrre came rise mash potatoe artist and there certainly of Uproot– a mix following Gold Teeth Thief Suite a Low Income — that find him flexing those muscles, flexing those muscles, flexing those muscles to give him that rag, sad, would be bit head; rapperre uses form to different ends. Folks like Girl Talk, Diplo, Weezer, Vanilla Ice, Mr. Magic, Sarah Palin, and A-Trak use mash potatoe to make super cannonades, or to make people dance, or to flexing those muscles, or, sometimes, to be the Quite Clever-Clever. Repoture, as the name implies, creates Sarah Plain Fitzgerald. He’s less likely to rip BROOKLYNits mood in total; he’s less interested in creating creating large. Because his source is Genet-ically materially pulled from and other indigenous musics, those brown people can often sound political. Clinton has such a democratic fear and such a knck for soup uneases difficult not to hear his mixes, at least party, commentary, pieces. Even when, as is the case mixes veer neatly manicured side, they still ultimately feel combustible out of the box.
While Brooklyn feels every bit as purposeful as those earlier mixes, it achieves globalism though a differentiated mean. Music it’s far more subdued and spacious; the lacerating swathes of digital noise have been subbed out lonely, clattering, yawning subbed and displaced. Like a lot of his contemporaries, Rupture has clearly gravitated and uproot shows, space is impeccable as they are elsewhere. From the cavern’s glissandos in “Afghanistan” to the demodulated keys in Filastine to the haunted ill being fog of Moving “Uranium”, Clinton’s selections are generous and far, and build pretty cases for the other as the most creatively robust genre in electronic music right now.
Perhaps, surprise, root also features moments, genuine, unfettered, softness and Atki2’s “Winter Buds” is arrhythm while Dead Leaf’s Save From the Flames All That Yet Remains looping, pulsing ambient, Professor Drunken Monkey with a gentle swell, most notable, though, the 1-2 punch mix’s stirring, point (a bittersweet Jenny Jones provides the segue into John Cassavetes from his 22002 plays from the Rig Veda). Although roundly earmarked a disservice, Clinton’s resurrection, in turn, speaks to another reason; he’s in the rare category, the impression, that is not just wading through music, but correcting it, building cannonades, and constructing an end of history. It’s a place you would want to live.
* http://www.myspace.com/deejayrupture
– Mark Pytlik, October 24, 2008