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Moon Duo

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It’s not often this slot features a frontman with a gigantic, greying beard that makes it look like he has a smoked badger hanging from his face. Not because we’re beardist you understand, it’s just that often the musicians we feature are too young to even manage a bum-fluff moustache, never mind Erik ‘Ripley’ Johnson’s luxuriant facial furniture. Yet while Johnson has been knocking around for years, most commonly fronting the psychedelic workouts dished out by Wooden Shjips, some of you may not be aware of the mighty Moon Duo – the side-project he shares with keyboardist Sanae Yanada (who may or may not be his wife – anyone know for sure?). And you should be aware. For their second album, “Circles”, is a cracker – in fact, if it wasn’t for the genius of FlyLo over there it’d be our album of the week.

At first, it may be hard to differentiate between Johnson’s two outfits. Both specialise in loud, hypnotic riffs and snaking keyboards that orbit around driving rhythms, and both have a tendency to stretch these elements out to trance-inducing dimensions. Yet Moon Duo’s sparser sound and slightly poppier sensibility are increasingly emerging from the shadow of the Shjips. Their first (brilliant) EPs were a startling statement of intent, adding a snarling edge to the tried-and-tested Wooden Shjips formula, but debut album “Mazes” sounded just a little too clean to provide a completely satisfying follow-up (although “When You Cut” remains an absolute peach, juicy and fuzzy in perfect proportions).

With “Circles” it feels they’ve reached a comfortable equilibrium, with a slight boost in distortion playing off against some killer new tunes. “I Can See” is a bracing, powerful desert gale, while “Dance Pt. 3” provides an altogether heavier swirl that struts around like a drunken hells angel in an unfamiliar bar after one too many joints. Lead single “Sleepwalker”, meanwhile, is about as accurate summation of Moon Duo’s sound as they’ve released, all echoing vocals and searing guitar solos (plus it also boasts a fantastic video – see below). All this, and the whole thing is apparently based on an essay by transcendentalist writer Ralph Waldo Emerson. What more could you want? Just light up and let go…

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Mykki Blanco

Mykki Blanco
Mykki Blanco, the alter ego of 25-year-old Michael Quattlebaum (seriously, how often do you get an alias that's less weird than the real name?), is a remarkable proposition. A transvestite "acid punk rapper", who has turned heads not just through cross-dressing but with some truly fierce, deep-space hip-hop, Blanco is all about fucking with people's heads. For example, who else would insist on releasing an album of industrial psych rock before the rap record that everyone's clamouring for comes out? Raised in North Carolina via California, Blanco now operates out of (where else) New York, where the music and fashion scenes are falling ever deeper in thrall. There are, of course, similarities to Nikki Minaj that run beyond a familiar-sounding first name. The predeliction for gender-blurring multiple identities is one, and the confrontational, occasionally histrionic delivery is another. Admittedly, Blanco's rapping isn't quite as ear-catching as Minaj's (despite the lyrics often being hilariously brilliant: "What the fuck I gotta prove to a room full of dudes / Who ain't listening to my words cuz they staring at my shoes"), but the productions are fantastic. "Betty Rubble (I GOT THE MIDAS TOUCH)", produced by Gobby, is sparse and sinister, with Blanco's vocals twisted and helium-ized, while the astonishing "Wavvy", produced by the be-quiffed Brenmar, is an absolute stomper that knocks the ball not just out of the park but somewhere beyond the nineteenth moon of Jupiter. Hip hop was getting into a rut a couple of years ago, full of tedious, identikit rappers with not an ounce of imagination between them. Now, with artists like Spoek Mathambo, Le1f, THEESatisfaction, A$AP Rocky and the whole unpredictable Odd Future crew around, things are finally starting to heat up again. Mykki Blanco is the most bizarre arrival yet. Don't take your eyes off him (or his shoes).
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