Even though we are barely into 2014, here at DAD we’re living like it has been 2015 for quite some time. My colleagues are listening to music that I’m told the public isn’t even ready for. Maybe I’m not even ready for them. Every once in a while, my superpower senses discover a meaux green mix or dr. ozi track that the group may not have gotten to first. Most often though, I am guided by the squad, lucky enough to have spent the early hours of this new year with Nappy as he cleaned out his inbox and schooled me on all that is holy and unheard.
The sad reality is that the greatest music from all corners of this huge world sometimes remains unheard forever. The majority of it never becomes popular, and most of us would rather keep it that way. The masses ruin high art like video killed the radio star and Andy Warhol painted. As bizarre as this may sound, the shit we listen to behind closed doors, the stuff you aren’t ready for yet, the 2015 or 3008 that you are 2000 and late for, are the filthy ratchet bass music festival trap sounds that we promote.
This is our high art. Just like past movements, the really next level sounds are so misunderstood by the general public, and I guess we prefer it that way. We get it, and if you are a fan of this blog, you get it, too. You scour the earth via the marvel that is the Internet to find all encompassing sound that is the voice of a crazy, fucked up world. Others hear it as noise, but we listen and appreciate the music for its honesty and lack of prejudice, we know it is life imitated.
I make it my mission to bring you the ever evolving sounds that represent this age in fast forward that is our reality, but the music is a machine and my reality has become the works of Pink Floyd materialized. I used to be afraid of the machine, frustrated at the idea of running and running to catch up with the sinking sun only to find it coming up behind me again. I was merely wasting time frustrated about things that were never going to change.
No fucks given in 2014. Smile and swag and flex and defy the restrictions of time and space by skipping over 2014 altogether, relatively speaking. Just recently I was shown the music of Debroka, and his debut EP was released a year ago already. Where the fuck have I been? I do not know, but I am here now, and that is all that matters.
Debroka’s recent mix, entered in a Liquified contest, could win him an opening spot for trap deity Brillz in Atlanta. The track selection is fucking mad, so widely representative of all that there is, with personal touches of individuality in the form of exclusive tracks and stellar mixing skills. It is Atlanta and Brillz and dirty south rap, trap builds with dance music that takes you from the old school to today’s Dutch house, dropping the past into the present into the future with Latin feels and downright booty shaking madness that taps into rhythms you didn’t even know existed. All of a sudden you are slowing down, grabbing the wall, and jiggling your butt cheeks like you know how to twerk. It gets inside you like vocals dubbed low and slow, the bass that vibrates through your every molecule, including the air around you. Inside your veins it pumps your blood, breathes your air. It gives you life.
It is fucking life.
The winner for this contest to open for Brillz will be announced on the 10th of January. I quite obviously support this dude for the win. Step into the future with me.