Thank God his career didn’t depend on us. We are some brutish she-devils.
Quite honestly, we’ve never been fans of Mykki Blanco and just because we like this song, we are not saying we’d cheerlead at his 30th birthday party, either. What we are saying is, since first hearing his name, we have been paying attention and trying to find something innovative enough to write about. We’ve been in close quarters of his live performances — never went in, watched him “diva out” in front of Glasslands Gallery during a show with THEESatisfaction and said hello to him on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg on the same night — still nothing.
When it comes to music, it’s all about extremes. I, the Editor, have never been a middle-ground type of person. Be it elimination or a distinct taste, I like what I like and I need what I need. I like my (rap) music (a) Complex with word patterns that fully disrespect the pulsating principles of the art of language: Grammar, spelling and everything else your high school English teachers forewarned you about or (b) None at all. However, I am a rather fair in my assessments, even when mediocracy comes my way.
On the other hand, sometimes, we just want to swing and “turn up” without a care in the world and listen to that Waka Flocka Flame record on repeat until we “go stupid” without being judged and scolded or pop my round ass to Big Freedia’s bounce anthems after a hot shower. And if that wasn’t plain enough for you, it is exactly why I abjured Mykki Blanco — until this moment. This production intrigued me. From the opening statement to the very end, this is the kind of innovation we like to see — Illuminati-evil-driven or not, it is different. It is different from the pack — genderfucking or not. Peep game above.