Steve Jobs has this rap game locked. Whether he knows it or not, Apple-Jack's G4 has become the premiere production device for any pseudo-boardsman, giving work to meatheads with even the narrowest of ProTools prowess. Most likely naïve to the clear, crisp faux-funk coming out of his product, I guess you could say the man's just making a living.
Evolution does not imply progress, only change, so there's no problem with Boston's triple-threat Edan ignoring this modern technological path. Ditching the J-O-B, this rapper/DJ/producer instead bows down to the almighty Tadao Kikumoto, mastermind behind Roland. Edan has himself mastered the tricks of all Roland's various x0x rhythm machines, putting his talent to good use to create this harmlessly facile, yet just plain fun, six-song (four are new) follow-up EP to the excellent Primitive Plus. But by calling this release simple and amusing-- and going along with the Golden Age production techniques-- Sprain Your Tapedeck shouldn't be dismissed as mere 80s kitsch. If recent outside production credits to Count Bass D and Mr. Lif arex92t enough hip-hop cred, Edan makes it abundantly clear on his own records: he knows what he's doing.
Combining the hilarity of his Biscuithead 12-inch debut (1999's "Sing It, Shitface") with the nostalgia of the recent Critical Beatdown-era tribute track "Ultra 88", this record is a retardedly good time. "Let's B. Friends", a priceless plea for a new buddy to cool out with, comes complete with a young LL Cool J whisper: "Let's go over and play some video games/ At the arcade you know we'll just hang out/ Yeah, and we'll work on our rhymes/ My metaphors are okay, how are yours?" Adorable! Production-wise, the track is surprisingly nuanced with 808 drum rolls, immersed in timely handclaps. While it's completely dull running down the technical on a song like this, it should be emphasized that Edan has honed in on his craft; this clever recreation of a sound long dead in hip-hop is shockingly well-executed.
Actually, let's forget legitimizing-- "Beautiful Food" is the funniest shit I've heard in years. Edan just lists a bunch of food. That's it, that's the entire song. Over a poppy, Latin guitar, he reads: "Falafels with tahini/ Eggs scrambled with Monterey Jack cheese/ Cream of broccoli soup/ Portobello mushrooms/ Pigs in a blanket/ Mueslix..." and so forth. At the risk of being a cornball, if you aren't smiling during this song, check your pulse.
Joke-songs aside, "Clinical Rhymes" (ft. Skillz Ferguson) evidences some convincing lyrical ability over a beat that runs the gamut of hip-hop references, flipping up eleven (!) times. The kickdrum-heavy, snot-nosed rhyming of "Schoolly D Knew the Time" pays homage to the Philadelphia emcee, further exposing the knack Edan has for a dirty, basement production style. Sure, this record is a laugh overall, but don't pass this guy off as some patsy Har Mar Superstar jerkoff. Edan is a one-man hip-hop army. Ice-grilling backpackers (yes, they're still around) take heed: his output is a welcome breath of dusty fresh air.
