Anti-Pop Consortium, Sick Mediks
231 S.W. Ankeny
Symmetry of sonic image exuberance weaves an electrifying textural collage of innovation, invoke the hostile reaction, from hideous grandeur, like traffic collision.
As today’s hip-hop continues to stagnate like the iridescent sewage underneath Canal Street, spreading widespread like brownie batter, out of that darkness comes the light. As for every plus there must be a minus and for all matter there is anti-matter, for every sound of pop – there is anti-pop.
High Priest, Beans and M. Sayyid are the plastic manic street preachers who rose from the sludge, uniting to form Anti-Pop Consortium.
Study my features with no resemblance, fuck rap … let that encapsulate the hate for dick writers.
Beyond conceptions of “street cred” and notions of what is and what is not “hip-hop,” APC are New York City verbal stylists of the nth degree. Anti-Pop solves quadratic equations of rhymes and constructs a hybrid behemoth of decentred lyricism and relocated beats, resulting in something that is not exactly hip-hop or electronic, but sits somewhere between the cracks on the sidewalk.
Coming up from the NYC underground spoken word/performance art scene, APC’s often dyslexic, paradoxical and schizophrenic combinations of word and sound leave listeners trying to understand how such possibilities exist in a greater hip-hop discourse so contrived with rocking gear and poses.
APC choose instead to rock like Kilimanjaro (are no stars left in the sky?).
Words will be my armor, armor in the war of the crumbling monolith …. You blink, I think with synchronicity, split my body on simplicity shit, 15 places at the same time, speaking the gospel.
Let’s get to the factor: you wanna be a star, be an actor.
APC just released their second full-length album, Arrhythmia, on U.K. experimental label Warp, after releasing their The Ends Against The MiddleEP a short while ago, and just a couple years after their debut album Tragic Epilogue on 75 Ark, and the Japan-only Shopping Carts Crashing.
APC has gone from mutant jazz and nervous instrumentals to new exertions which find them exploring more syncopated electro vibrations, and more uptempo-like sunspots crashing, as they seek to surf the gap between ear holes and black holes.