Lo, and tidings, the gift of GOD SHIT: thick; lit; holy, like swiss.
As LAMPGOD instructs in “Paper Mate,” it’s time to take wine from the decanter. Taste the difference: the essence of fresh air.
This EP feels full of re-. Reimagined beats, reapplied makeup, revisited memories, revised motifs, reupholstered leather, re-installed shag carpeting. Realized. The tv’s on low in the other room eternally tuned to the news.
Kneyows’s sounds wiggle like seals and squids shimmying through sonic libraries. Sweater fuzz shrouds the sound of a worn record’s groove, or, the hiss of the tape deck in my sister’s old Grand Marquis. LAMPGOD’s also in the library, or maybe the study, leafing through a leather-bound dictionary + thesaurus set stamped in gold-leaf. But not really. See: “Darling, I Love You” in a plate of shrimp scampi. See: Digable Planets and Babyfather chatting in the used poetry section. See: What the fuck are you talking about? When asked rhetorically. There are so many voices everywhere, ooh ooh. They make their way in, too.
What holiday is it (was it?)? Sometimes, it’s just time to celebrate. If you’re in NYC, you can get on that GOD SHIT for the price of a swipe, and if you’re not, it’s only $2.75. Blow out, re-up, keep on, go here.