4/12/2021 0 Comments Dj Rashad Just A Taste Rar File
Shoot Me, meanwhile, falls somewhere inbetween a Lunice track and Oxide Neutrinos Bound 4 Da Reload.Rightly so, in some respects: few releases on the ghetto house-juke-footwork continuum come close to Traxmans cosmopolitan sound pallete and eye for microscopic detail.
But, to these ears at least, there was also a sense that Da Mind Of Traxman was a record for the head rather than the feet. His 160bpm miscellania were impressive, but the most compelling aspects of footwork the just-cut roughness, the rambunctious energy, the sheer alterity of these impossible polyrhythms were conspicuous by their absence. Functional is often slung about as a perjorative term, but its a virtue in relation to footwork. When the function is to twist and bend bodies into impossible shapes, the more functional the better. Sweeping aside faff and fluff, his productions cut straight to the heart of what makes footwork so unsettling and wonderful. On his 2010 album Just A Taste, he went in for fetishistic repetition and sudden jump-cuts. His mixes of which 2010s Spinn team-up for FACT was a golden example are scrappy exercises in (mostly) tension and (occasionally) release. What with the juddering samples and those spastic snare-snaps, theres a sense of auto-destruction in his work conventional pop arrangements committing seppaku in spectacular fashion. His new full-length is a fierce, white-hot record: frequently blistering, and very rarely blustering. Theres also a clear sense of machine worship throughout, not only in the track titles (iPodTwitter), but in the fascination with bleeps and digital trills. Footworks spores have spread everywhere from New York (Machinedrum) to Norway (Slick Shoota). More so than on Just A Taste, Rashad seems to be engaging with the global matrix. Bakk Off features British voices (shes a sket) and British tropes ( a surprise drumnbass interlude) alike. Walk For Me follows the lead of Joy O Boddikas Swims by sampling Tronco Traxxs Walk 4 Me, an example of distorted mirror images being flung back and forth across the Atlantic. If Da Mind Of Traxman summoned the image of Traxman digging through dusty crates, Welcome To The Chi sees Rashad looking outwards, engaging with the world. A good few of the other tracks, however, take the full tumble. Twitter inane, blaring and fantastically annoying is a fitting tribute to the online service. CCP, meanwhile, manages to include both scatting and yodelling, thereby reviewing itself. Chopping and screwing is always liable to leave things sounding, well, screwy but Rashads relentless production style is more successful when it wears a poker face rather than playing the fool. We Trippy Mane combines analgesic synths with the witter of computerised birdsong. Over its five minutes, it tilts from bewildering to blissful.
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