Despite my initial fears of this record's potential for high-browed self-indulgence, it's tough not to admire any project that stands tall under the label of "experimental hip-hop." Expanding the borders of the most malleable of genres has got to be a good thing. By now, forward-thinking listeners have at least a smattering of options that offer a rewarding, if challenging, listening experience, thanks to the work of dizzy-headed beat freaks like Dälek, Glen Galloway, and the Anticon alchemists. Those artists not only defy presupposition, but have turned out some true class from the fickle, irresistible bitch that is hip-hop.
Traveling similar spaceways is Apsci ("applied science" foreshortened), the product of funk-punk-turned-b-boy Raphael La Motta, his wife/Aussie chanteuse Dana Diaz-Tutaan, and Def Jux workhorse DJ Big Wiz. Pairing La Motta's glitchy production and Wiz's turntable textures looks great on paper, a prospect even more enticing when Big Apple luminaries like TV on the Radio vocalist Tunde Adebimpe, Martín Perna of Antibalas, and hip-hop intellectual Mike Ladd appear on Twisted's tracklist. Add the assertion that the album is a physically unplaceable, cyberspacial collaboration, assembled from transcontinental airplane laptop sessions and portable studios in eight different countries, and Apsci's pastiche swells with creative possibilities. Unfortunately, even as the album dips into intriguing conceptual territory, the execution is pretty underwhelming, and the overall sensation is of a jumbo Roman Candle of creativity that fizzles out before it's even fully lit.
La Motta's work with short-lived Thrill Jockey groove-grungers Vitapup precedes his style-mashing smarm with Apsci. There's a relieving sense of humor that thankfully underlines his straight-ahead, "Hollywood Freaks"-style whiteboy raps and sparse, sterile broken beats. Without that hipster smirk, La Motta's lyrics would be too vapid to call quirky and his production too flagrant to call experimental. Diaz-Tutaan's silky, versatile voice seems underused; she comes from an operatic background but here we get little more than warbled Baduizms. If La Motta's own delivery was stronger she'd perhaps shine brighter in his presence, but together the couple sound more like they're pillow-talking than performing.
The album's first half makes Apsci's strongest statement, though a throwaway appearance by 3 Feet High and Rising host Don Newkirk only emphasizes where the album fails to go, as does the De La-inspired role call on "It's Apsci". "Tirade Highway" and "Never Give Up" bring tentative electrofunk bump, the first riding Atari synthlines and subliminal effects over Diaz-Tutaan's showtune vocals; the second comping over a routine horn sample and phase-shifted beat, letting Diaz-Tuttan's voice do the heavy lifting. Adebimpe's heavenly croon adds atmosphere to "Runaway" and illuminates the New York indie influence on the album, his minor-key harmonies hinting at TV's moody ruminations. However, Perna's flute is only an afterthought in the sudsy "Rob the Bank", with its brittle rhythms and Wiz's subtle scratching barely discernable, and "Synth 3PO" is a true low point, again falling back on the Beck blueprint of plastic sequined soul, without the surreal heart and giddy bluster.
But like I said, you have to respect any serious attempt at excavating the proverbial pigeonhole. We analytical Po-Mo's like the ambiguous shades that fall just after sunset but before the heavy dark of night, the time when fireworks can be most vivid and startling.
