Live: Odd Future Berate All The Old, Ugly Bloggers At Santos Party House
source: http://blogs.villagevoice.com/music/2011/02/live_odd_future.php
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Well, that was hostile. You will all have your own highlights from this, the second live NYC appearance from everyone's favorite stupendously inappropriate underage L.A. rap collective, but as for me and my house, we'll stick with the latest chapter in mastermind Tyler the Creator's ongoing compendium of asthma humor. "Who the fuck got asthma here?" he demands, toward the end of this bruising, seething, intermittently thrilling hour-long affair, when we're all indeed out of breath, emotionally if not physically. He holds up an inhaler and starts howling like a baby: "SWAAAAAAAG! SWAAAAAAAAG!" We laugh. We are grateful for the chance. These guys are not funny in the traditional sense. Seconds earlier, Tyler had introduced a new song with "I plan on getting on Bill O'Reilly and having a bunch of white parents hate me for this motherfucker"; seconds later, he notes, "I just wanna slap the fuck out of all parents, and bloggers, and fuckin' ugly people." The guy knows his demo.
Quoting these guys swearing a lot is basically my role here. This show is in all likelihood less absurd and more logically structured than OF's first local gig, at Webster Hall's Studio in November, but that's relative; the personnel tonight is whittled down to Domo Genesis (disarmingly cheerful), Hodgy Beats (pint-size, hilariously combative, openly contemptuous of "the old people in the back"), Left Brain (no impression), and your DJ, Syd, who looks, like, 12. Oh, and Tyler, of course, towering over everyone. He takes the stage in a hoodie with "Fuck the Greater Good" emblazoned on the back, screams "Who the fuck invited Mr. I Don't Give a Fuck?", stops the song, kicks all the photographers offstage, disappears, waits until the song restarts, and then bursts out to scream, "Who the fuck invited Mr. I Don't Give a Fuck?" again. He does not comport himself like a guy on Vampire Weekend's label. He's wearing knee-high striped socks. His voice is a bloody, serrated rasp. His frequent, ferocious stage dives are expressly designed to encourage lawsuits. It's great.
http://blogs.villagevoice.com/music/2011/02/live_odd_future.php
Quoting these guys swearing a lot is basically my role here. This show is in all likelihood less absurd and more logically structured than OF's first local gig, at Webster Hall's Studio in November, but that's relative; the personnel tonight is whittled down to Domo Genesis (disarmingly cheerful), Hodgy Beats (pint-size, hilariously combative, openly contemptuous of "the old people in the back"), Left Brain (no impression), and your DJ, Syd, who looks, like, 12. Oh, and Tyler, of course, towering over everyone. He takes the stage in a hoodie with "Fuck the Greater Good" emblazoned on the back, screams "Who the fuck invited Mr. I Don't Give a Fuck?", stops the song, kicks all the photographers offstage, disappears, waits until the song restarts, and then bursts out to scream, "Who the fuck invited Mr. I Don't Give a Fuck?" again. He does not comport himself like a guy on Vampire Weekend's label. He's wearing knee-high striped socks. His voice is a bloody, serrated rasp. His frequent, ferocious stage dives are expressly designed to encourage lawsuits. It's great.
http://blogs.villagevoice.com/music/2011/02/live_odd_future.php
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