Perfect Hair
by Busdriver

— Released 8th September 2014 on Big Dada

What would Gravity’s Rainbow sound like as a rap album? Here is an album which, if we may, reminds the listener of their whispered allegiances to fundamental realities. The brushstrokes are delicate, stabbing, pointed. The overwhelming crescendo they whirl towards may be one of bitterness, and rightfully so. There is also lightness. A black man is giggling and pointing at you. It may have everything and nothing to do with rap and one’s place in it. Humiliation, no longer a threat—but a ...

What would Gravity’s Rainbow sound like as a rap album? Here is an album which, if we may, reminds the listener of their whispered allegiances to fundamental realities. The brushstrokes are delicate, stabbing, pointed. The overwhelming crescendo they whirl towards may be one of bitterness, and rightfully so. There is also lightness. A black man is giggling and pointing at you. It may have everything and nothing to do with rap and one’s place in it. Humiliation, no longer a threat—but a reality, has been exhausted. Perfect Hair is what remains.

The album vibrates, oscillating between journalistic extremes du jour, occupying a space few have let rap extend to. It is neither cheerful nor depressing, beyond those qualifiers. The rapper, having moved past the limited authority of rejection or ostracization, has arrived at a truth. A Whole Sick Crew of characters weave their way across the shifting stage. Aesop Rock, Danny Brown, Open Mike Eagle and Pegasus Warning all spit directly earwards. Additional production by Jeremiah Jae, Mono/Poly and many more. Album artwork is brought to you by the legendary and talented John Lurie.

The listener has been trained. The listener has developed a palate for the baroque, the garish, the cruel and bloody. The listener has become accustomed to being guided not by ear but belly. Here is an album with the referential delicacy of a snowflake, and the nourishing qualities of that little drop of frozen water. It’s ending leaves the listener at a loss, stupefied by the risk taken. And at that moment of recognition, it seems to blink itself out of existence. The loss is yours. And that loss is the motivating factor for what exists on this album beneath thick layers of discarded dreadlocks: a truth. That humiliating losses, communicated unflinchingly, lead one to an insatiable, bubbling hunger: to expand one’s space, to grow.

The refreshing, restorative value of an a posteriori vantage is reaffirmed—experience being the most vivacious source of wisdom and creation. There is an ineffable cool present coaxing your attention and rewarding your insights.

On Perfect Hair, Busdriver defies the betted ante. The pieces, parts, sinews, synapses, synopses, passions, thrusts, and bits burst outward and realign of their own tremendous gravity. It is on this album that an OG announces his presence.

Perfect Hair
by Busdriver

— Released 8th September 2014 on Big Dada

Buy physical

CD (BDCD248)
 
2xLP (BD248)
£17.00
 

Buy digital

MP3 (BDDNL248X)
£5.00
 
16-bit WAV (BDDNL248XW)
£7.00
 

Buy physical

Buy digital

CD (BDCD248) MP3 (BDDNL248X)
£5.00
2xLP (BD248)
£17.00
16-bit WAV (BDDNL248XW)
£7.00

Tracklist

  • CD
  • 2xLP
  • MP3
  • 16-bit WAV
  1. 1
    Retirement Ode
  2. 2
    Bliss Point
  3. 3
    Ego Death
  4. 4
    Upsweep
  5. 5
    When the Tooth-lined Horizon Blinks
  6. 6
    Motion Lines
  7. 7
    Eat Rich
  8. 8
    king cookie faced (for her)
  9. 9
    Can’t You tell I’m a Sociopath
  10. 10
    Colonize the Moon
  11.  
    Play All (10)
  1. 1
    Retirement Ode
  2. 2
    Bliss Point
  3. 3
    Ego Death
  4. 4
    Upsweep
  5. 5
    When the Tooth-lined Horizon Blinks
  6. 6
    Motion Lines
  7. 7
    Eat Rich
  8. 8
    Octagon
    Album only
  9. 9
    How Your Sprinkler System Work  (Bonus Track)
  10. 10
    king cookie faced (for her)
  11. 11
    Colonize the Moon
  12. 12
    Can’t You tell I’m a Sociopath
  13.  
    Play All (11)
  1. 1
    Retirement Ode
  2. 2
    Bliss Point
  3. 3
    Ego Death
  4. 4
    Upsweep
  5. 5
    When the Tooth-lined Horizon Blinks
  6. 6
    Motion Lines
  7. 7
    Eat Rich
  8. 8
    king cookie faced (for her)
  9. 9
    Can’t You tell I’m a Sociopath
  10. 10
    Colonize the Moon
  11. 11
    Joyce 1  (Bonus Track)
  12. 12
    How Your Sprinkler System Work  (Bonus Track)
  13. 13
    Go Hard or Go Homogenous  (Bonus Track)
  14.  
    Play All (13)
  1. 1
    Retirement Ode
  2. 2
    Bliss Point
  3. 3
    Ego Death
  4. 4
    Upsweep
  5. 5
    When the Tooth-lined Horizon Blinks
  6. 6
    Motion Lines
  7. 7
    Eat Rich
  8. 8
    king cookie faced (for her)
  9. 9
    Can’t You tell I’m a Sociopath
  10. 10
    Colonize the Moon
  11. 11
    Joyce 1  (Bonus Track)
  12. 12
    How Your Sprinkler System Work  (Bonus Track)
  13. 13
    Go Hard or Go Homogenous  (Bonus Track)
  14.  
    Play All (13)

What would Gravity’s Rainbow sound like as a rap album? Here is an album which, if we may, reminds the listener of their whispered allegiances to fundamental realities. The brushstrokes are delicate, stabbing, pointed. The overwhelming crescendo they whirl towards may be one of bitterness, and rightfully so. There is also lightness. A black man is giggling and pointing at you. It may have everything and nothing to do with rap and one’s place in it. Humiliation, no longer a threat—but a ...

What would Gravity’s Rainbow sound like as a rap album? Here is an album which, if we may, reminds the listener of their whispered allegiances to fundamental realities. The brushstrokes are delicate, stabbing, pointed. The overwhelming crescendo they whirl towards may be one of bitterness, and rightfully so. There is also lightness. A black man is giggling and pointing at you. It may have everything and nothing to do with rap and one’s place in it. Humiliation, no longer a threat—but a reality, has been exhausted. Perfect Hair is what remains.

The album vibrates, oscillating between journalistic extremes du jour, occupying a space few have let rap extend to. It is neither cheerful nor depressing, beyond those qualifiers. The rapper, having moved past the limited authority of rejection or ostracization, has arrived at a truth. A Whole Sick Crew of characters weave their way across the shifting stage. Aesop Rock, Danny Brown, Open Mike Eagle and Pegasus Warning all spit directly earwards. Additional production by Jeremiah Jae, Mono/Poly and many more. Album artwork is brought to you by the legendary and talented John Lurie.

The listener has been trained. The listener has developed a palate for the baroque, the garish, the cruel and bloody. The listener has become accustomed to being guided not by ear but belly. Here is an album with the referential delicacy of a snowflake, and the nourishing qualities of that little drop of frozen water. It’s ending leaves the listener at a loss, stupefied by the risk taken. And at that moment of recognition, it seems to blink itself out of existence. The loss is yours. And that loss is the motivating factor for what exists on this album beneath thick layers of discarded dreadlocks: a truth. That humiliating losses, communicated unflinchingly, lead one to an insatiable, bubbling hunger: to expand one’s space, to grow.

The refreshing, restorative value of an a posteriori vantage is reaffirmed—experience being the most vivacious source of wisdom and creation. There is an ineffable cool present coaxing your attention and rewarding your insights.

On Perfect Hair, Busdriver defies the betted ante. The pieces, parts, sinews, synapses, synopses, passions, thrusts, and bits burst outward and realign of their own tremendous gravity. It is on this album that an OG announces his presence.