Early in the 00s, there was a war. A gruesome war. There were The Infesticons, naturally the all-round good guys, and there were The Majesticons, grotesque robots intent on transforming the world into a paradise only for the “beautiful people.” In the midst of this battle, both groups somehow found time to saunter on down to a recording studio and create stunning and criminally underrated cerebral hip-hop records. 2000 saw the release of Gun Hill Road, a sparse and eerie voice of the underground, while 2003 found The Majesticons’ Beauty Party, a cripplingly ironic lambasting of gangsta rap culture through their own words.
Behind all this fantasy is one man: Mike Ladd, the Lewis Carroll of rap. In imagining this mad world, he dismantled what was happening to rap music both worldwide and in broader terms to globalization. Rather than moaning from a crusty bedsit, he portrayed the power of “authentic” rap culture over the superficial nature of much rap music without even mentioning the words “guns,” “bitches,” or “bling.”
It would seem, then, that Ladd’s epic narrative had reached its conclusion. But The Infesticon story was always meant to be in three parts. Where are we now? Here is Ladd’s analysis of the situation:
The Infesticons Marching Band went and hid in the bunker for they were not really warlike and had joined so they could play in the band. And yea they missed out on most of the mayhem above and yeah they lost all contact with the world and yea they got pretty bored and yea they made a mixtape and some demos on a four track and some other stuff and yea this is what remains. And yea the war long over and yea no one cares and yea the last Infesticons have emerged from the bunker and yes they will play live.
Indeed, The Infesticons seem to have lost their grip on reality, their assertion that they were on the right side: they have succumbed to sleaze. “Lick you slow until you push me off/ It’s your world but baby I’m the boss,” they croon on “Dirty Ol’ Men Anthem.” “Shoulda jacked ya, shoulda jacked ya/ Throw you off the jungle gym and make it like an accident,” screams Ladd on opener “Blockin’ Door Anthem.” The apathy of a generation is perhaps best summed up in “Bombs Anthem”: “Food prices up/ Empires fall/ Stick with the drag of life/ Wanna scratch my balls.”
As a continuation of a concept, it’s an intriguing statement. Is Ladd trying to tell us that we’ve all succumbed to the mass media? That any attempt to act ‘alternative’ is nothing more than a pathetic facade? That we’ve accepted aspects of society we never should have?
Musically, Ladd is venturing again into unexplored territories. Fuzzed-out guitar loops and garage rock beats are reminiscent of The Black Keys’ Blackroc rap collaborations, but the record lacks the experimental edge or the variety of previous efforts. Rap lines are delivered in a similar fashion throughout, and only the raga-tinged “Word Sin Anthem” offers respite from the lyrical onslaught.
Bedford Park is another heavily thought-through record for Ladd, who patches up musical crevices with his concept. He perhaps sums this up best when speaking about the album: “The rumour persists that there are GIs in the jungles of Vietnam who still believe Richard Nixon is president. In much the same way, there are people living in the jungle of our cities who still believe in reality who seem to think we’re living somewhere other than Disney. Call them the Infesticons and think of a Vietcong for reality’s last (virtual) battleground.”
More about: Infesticons, The Infesticons
