Born (and for that matter, conceived) on the backseat of a caddy, a child enters the world knowing nothing but wash-worn plush leather. Spanked, even his first wail comes out funky, not so much a “waaaaah” but more of a “wayeaah” like a keytar interpolation of the horn arrangements from A Secret Place. Give that child a talk-box for a baby monitor and a healthy serving of Cosmic Slop with his baby formula. If ever a son were destined to become a silky tongued, Grade A bad motherfucker, he’s the one. {Insert Puffy adlib here.}
We see you B. Bravo, acting all slick, trying to premiere a track some other player got the drop on two years back. It’s all good, daddy. Work that. See baby boy gradumutated out the Red Bull Music Academy like a centaur with degrees in “Computa Love” from Professor Gilles Peterson. Superfly erroneous sentences out the cut like pus, rolled up in a Cutlass Supreme then dipped like dust. {“Take that, take that, take that.”}
B. Bravo has a 7-inch coming in November followed by a full-length in Q1 2017 on Bastard Jazz. Listen to our premiere of “Energy” below and pre-order the 7-inch here. {“Bad Boy.”}
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