In Salute of El-P…

In Salute of El-P…

by xxl staff

Even though yesterday’s post about Goretex’s 2004 album The Art of Dying didn’t exactly ignite an inferno of comments, I feel good about it. Why’s that? Well, it’s a sense of (perhaps misplaced) accomplishment. If not for that self-written blog, Goretex’s name might not have ever been uttered on this website, for (justifiable) reasons mostly having to do with his recent inactivity, not to mention longstanding obscurity. But, when the calendar hits and it’s my turn to once again man the staff blog for a five-day clip, I consider it time to let my eccentric flag blow in the Internet’s breeze. For better (the occasional, “Finally, so-and-so-rapper gets some love on this site”) or, more likely than not, for worse (see the amount of comments bestowed on yesterday’s post).

Not that I’m complaining; rather, I’m just observing a truth and thinking out loud (via my laptop’s keyboard). And, unsurprisingly, today’s blog is centered around another unsung underground artist usually absent from this site’s pages, though, unlike Goretex, today’s recipient of my blog love (pause?) is an undisputed titan of the independent hip-hop scene: El Producto himself, producer/rapper/former label head El-P.

The best part about it, though, is that the one-time artistic director of the now-defunct indie record-brand Definitive Jux did just release a new record, so the timing here is convenient. Last week, his Weareallgoingtoburninhellmegamixxx3, a mixtape comprised of instrumentals and remixes distributed by Gold Dust, was unveiled, and it’s a typically bombastic array of solar funk, heady boom-bap and dizzying electronica. Meaning, it’s quintessential El-P while still exhibiting some musical progression. I’m more into his older stuff, but I can still rock with the new.

Understandably, El-P’s music polarizes rap lovers into two factions: those who swear by his one-of-a-kind style and those who dismiss it as nonsensical noise pollution. I, obviously, fall into the former category. To be more precise, I subscribe to the notion that the Brooklyn-born El-P is one of hip-hop’s most overlooked production behemoths. Stumble into any random “best producers in the games” discussion amongst rap listeners and the chances of hearing his name muttered are slim to none. And don’t even get me started on “best producer-rappers in the game” debates. I’m no dummy, however; I get it. It takes a certain type of ear to mess with El-P’s sonics. Doesn’t mean that his naysayers are inexcusably wrong—just means that they’re not on the same wavelength as a head such as myself.

Full disclosure, at the expense of my fellow El-P fans: I became a supporter of his work after Company Flow. Of course, once I signed up for his fan club, I immediately went back to Co-Flow’s seminal Funcrusher Plus (Rawkus Records, 1997) and I’ve hailed it ever since. But, for me, the saga began with his solo debut, 2002’s mind-boggling Fantastic Damage (Definitive Jux). The only reason why I ordered the CD online without having even heard a single track was that every review I’d read of it on the Internet praised it as some kind of avant-garde masterwork. Granted, I was logged on to mostly underground-favoring sites, but whatever. Something told me that I’d dig it, and, as you can tell, I did. And then some.

Listening to Fantastic Damage for the first time was on par with giving Stanley Kubrick’s film 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) its first viewing—cue Redman’s “Blow Your Mind.” Fantastic Damage pummeled me, in a good way—the chill and claustrophobia of “Deep Space 9mm”; the…

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