Sumo Kaplunk@ukhh.com: ”Reiterating his agenda on the up-beat lead single to his third album, the voice of the Ruf Beats empire is determined to “produce the friction,” by serving up an ambitiously long home-made magnum opus of photofit Funk, as his facetious flow delivers pertinent observations over familiar, yet unusually manipulated tracks in order for: the ignition of cognition, dancefloor friendly insendiary and the confrontation of some elusive demons. However, “Working “like a slave to become the master” of the abusive, innuendo-filled “relationship” between the music makers and the media will take its tole upon even the most stolwart artistic activist so, pushing the “no pain, no gain” maxim to its sado-Masochistic maximum, the ruf implores “matron” to administer some seriously compulsive “twisted therapy” whilst he dreams of “patting Samantha Janus on the anus; lovely.” Rebounding like a pinball off the ironic juxtapositions provided by the events portrayed within the “wonderful world of alcohol” “There’s a poison going on” for sure. As Mindbomb unleashes the latest acoustic assault ” NATO-style on a politically passified audience. Indeed, The deft incorporation of references as diverse as Billy Connolly and Dirty Harry go to make up a bulk encryption of meanings and contextual significances within a heavily embedded ciphony, not least during The strangely haunting concoction of the organic and the synthetic during “seducer” and its depiction of the government’s dubious involvement in the international arms-trade. Here, an unearthly synth drone permiates the atmosphere created by a human beat-box left inhailing the dirty fumes of war. Furthermore, as a METEOR BURST” from rap luminary Chuck D suggests on the almost unweildy “Deconstruction of a falling star, If the truth’s out there, it’s in the hands of a hostile cognizant agent which perceives us all as mere “pieces in one big chess game.”
Allowing the listener to probe his frontal lobe while he insists “they “drip-fead me hip-hop” can be good healthy fun. It can also however entail certain harmful side-effects. A small bunch of tracks like the ludicrously dated “Hardcore Sunstorm” interlude or the lack-luster trendy-pandering “free weed” testify to the consequences derived from The over zealous spungiform absorbtion of every tinest detail of hip-hop’s recognisable landmarks And the inevitable Peralising nostalgic introvertion Bound to occur when this perspective is further shackled within a forced-format aimed for “mass appeal”
While these two tracks remain to taint what is a consistently tasty platter, for the mean-time, the Ruf’s proclamation that this is “The best rap album in the world;ever” shall remain an acerbic parody of that advert done by Westwood.
Everyone should know the Great-British Beef by now; Dave “The ruf” Davies’s Swarn Nemesis, would rather play DMX and Mase all night rather than any abundent indigenous talent; hence the sarcastic shout-outs to Danny Rampling and the seemingly immortal John Pele.
Nevertheless, works of such instant accessability and abiding inpact are hard to find so perhaps in the long-term, as long as the lyrics remain on-target, cross-genre stealth is the best strategy to Detonate and resonate within the mind.”
1 Ruf Beats 5:28