warm, sleepy release from seattle typewriter j.pinder. fetches visions of blunt heaves and peanutbutterxoatmeal cookie collections, translated as wordless montages that look like america's most wanted dramatizations. apparently woozy enough for me to type in punctuated fragments. the beats are all cool, but none approaches or even appears to aspire to banger management. even jfk's electric flow cooperates well with the unwinding, sunset sound.
each rapper featured acquitted himself goot. brainstorm's verse on "s on my chest" shows a more settled, satisfied intepretation of his character than i can remember hearing. i think that better fits his popularkidcantlose delivery than the hip hop hurtling headlong i love so much from dyme def. i think jfk has my favorite verse (standard), but it's of course pinder's bashfully enthusiastic, buzzy flow that keeps the music coasting along. evidence for any contention that a master of ceremonies musn't necessarily rule over iron-fisted over beats, the rapper with the funny name hangs 16s on vitamin's surf, comfy in the knowledge that the break will take him where he needs to go.
the buoyant, bemused quality in his voice and content reminds me a lot of andre 3000. pinder appears as a disciple of triplestack's manner of carrying hip hop over the divide between "childish" and "childlike." i guess what i'm trying to say is that they both bring a relatability to the table so that their music is a meal that a grain of salt need not accompany.
some of this stuff is ripe for that coffee shop muzak royalty. i'll have "cause you left me" in a vente 'cause that is my jam.
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