Bad Liquorice: "You Give Louvre A Bad Meme"

DNRC33 Format: Long Player Released: 2004 Status: DELETED The ridiculous title of this album, together with its fratboy geek-style cover artwork, disguises the incredible toasting talent of Bad Liquorice, the fastest word-salad artists to burst out of the service lane since Compton stopped being an encyclopedia. The three rappers in Bad Liquorice - Tasty Cheese, Mor-Man and Spiflicator - bring a barrel full of money love to the songs on this album, treating listeners to a strawberry sundae, topped with crushed nuts and just the slightest hint of Chipmunk Punk. Songs with titles like interstate flightpaths, samples from the grim psychedelic bringdown of 1983, Nicole Kidman in Days of Thunder, references to baby teeth, interludes on expressways - they're all here, together with a banshee bible undercutting the stereo simplicity of the Fisher-Price backing tracks. Opening cut "Superb Melody Bootlash" (previously only available via Japanese import) slays all in its path, Tasty Cheese bridging the gap between both sides of Chesapeake Bay with some sublime motion sickness. Spiflicator chants throughout like an Enigma Monk on Chipmunk Punk, while Mor-Man holds the tiller, steady as Rock Hudson in the grave. The next three tracks fly past like missed stations on an express train to Hooty, until we come shuddering to a devastating standstill with "Whips", this album's emotional and spiritual terminus. Rap hasn't sounded this fresh since the last time I penetrated a jar of International Roast Coffee with a hot spoon. Final track "Ferry Cross the Medley" is, as the title suggests, a tour de g force, culminating in three minuets of electric buzz saw chops, interspersed throughout with shreds of rhyme like "interstellar salt and pepper shakers/ King Tut toasted sandwich makers/ Boogie board stash replacers / better find me a new stencil tracer / abs/ ". If this website was into ratings or stars of any kind, this album would deserve a constellation. Orion perhaps. The belt at least. As it is, this killer disc, though sadly deleted, serves as a mere warm-up to Bad Liquorice's later sound experiments. Listen and learn, Fashionistas.