mixtape maestro (2.0)

M.I.A. has never not had “something to say”, but who could’ve expected her next message to come packaged like this?

Unsurprisingly worlds away from the mainstream ground achieved on “Paper Planes”, Maya’s latest, “Born Free”, sees her celebrating her inner-rebel (“I don’t wanna live for tomorrow/ I push my life today”)
atop an unforgiving, and highly exhilarating, drum and bass assault seemingly built on the stuff of your worst nightmares (in actuality it’s sinister punk chug is based off a sample of synth-pop pioneers Suicide’s 1977 classic “Ghost Rider”).

While it’ll definitely take a good listen or two for it’s riotous thrashing about to soak in, the song eventually lands as another brilliant M.I.A. anthem, with the singer-rapper’s distinctive poetics (“I don’t wanna talk about money, ’cause I got it/ And I don’t wanna talk about hoochies, ’cause I been it” stands as a highlight for us) emerging from the apocalyptic murk as some of 2010′s greatest hook-chant work so far.

Look for M.I.A.’s still-untitled third set sometime in June, then proceed to have your…well, mind blown by the thought-provoking, but soooooo NSFW video/ short film for “Born Free” (Warning: features graphic sex, nudity and some extreme displays of violence) below.

M.I.A, Born Free from ROMAIN-GAVRAS on Vimeo.

On the opening verse of Music For Men peak moment “Love Long Distance”, a tense indie-disco foundation of four-on-the-floor stomp, one-finger house piano and a back-and-forth bassline tiptoe help visualize scenes of Beth Ditto nervously pacing to and fro across her living room floor, tapping her toes impatiently as she continually dials the number to an un-answering faraway lover. “I’ve had it with your antics/ Your childish games,” she resigns, the “I told you so” background murmuring of surrounding friends fueling her decision.

It’s a thrilling introduction to another one of the band’s crispily-produced club-aimed entries, and thankfully, the fun doesn’t end there.

As the song goes on, a ferocious bass chug helps thicken out the production mix to signify Ditto’s increasing sense of frustration and heartache as she continues to rip into her heartless partner, at one point cleverly adding a nice little twist to an old Motown line (“I heard it through the bass line/ Not much longer would you be my baby”).

Those who (somewhat understandably) balk at Gossip’s continuous detour away from their roughened blues-punk beginnings for a more polished dance edge will surely have more negative things to say about this track (and much of the new album’s) poppier aesthetic, but let them whine; Gossip have shown with “Heavy Cross” and now “Love Long Distance” that, as Randy Jackson would say, they are “in it to win it” in 2009, and, at least from this corner of the Web-iverse, it’s a move much appreciated.

So if the truth REALLY does come out that sudden blog obsession/ new British post-punk outfit Japanese Cartoon isn’t a cuckoo Lupe Fiasco under some faux-Brit guise, will we still care about them?

That’s still up in the air, but until some solid proof comes forth (cause this denial just isn’t sufficing), we’ll remain intrigued by this maybe/ maybe not rapper side project.

JC’s newest cut “Firing Squad” offers more of their slightly infectious (though still sub-par), political ire pummel with “Lupe/ not Lupe” dishing out manic warnings of “When they put you in line/ You better run, you better run, you better run” against a fiery “RAWK!!!” assault of guitars and drums.

If nothing else, we thank this enigma of a band for suddenly getting us in the mood to listen to some “Cult of Personality”.

(Props to smokeYYY)

DL: “Firing Squad” (alt)

Always a sucker for a great cover, Liverpool indie Hot Club De Paris earn my vote by taking us back to Graceland (and, in conjunction, reminding us how funny Chevy Chase used to be) with their spot-on rendition of the Paul Simon 1986-7 hit “You Can Call Me Al”.

Perfectly recreating that classic African-tinged bass groove, pre-”Young Folks” whistle solo and those snaky guitar melodies (we do lose the hook’s stabbing horns to passable fretwork, though), Hot Club are so faithful in their take, it’s like biting into a Twinkie for the first time all over again. Singer Paul Rafferty’s delightful consonant-omitting accent adds a punk-ish tone in place of Simon’s laidback conversational delivery, but the glowing brilliance of this twenty-year-old pop treasure is dutifully retained nonetheless. Had forgotten how cool Paul Simon could be.

Listen: “You Can Call Me Al”