Awol One and I go back a ways. In 1998, when I was entering college for the second time, I was introduced to Napster by my friend Ryan. He installed the program on my dial up shit laptop and told me to go nuts. From my dorm room I started (slowly) pirating (individual) tracks from dozens of artists I knew and a handful of artists I wanted to know more about.
Awol One was one of the names who seemed to have more guest spots floating around Napster in my genre of choice than anyone else at the time. Either that, or muthafuckers couldn't tag mp3s for shit back then. Regardless of why I ended up with a few pawfuls of Awol One tracks on my computer, the dude quickly became a character I relied on to deliver me three things:
On this latest drop released by the illustrious and funky fingered Fake Four, Awol One teams up with producer Nathaniel Motte, who if you don't know (which I didn't), the dude is part of 3OH!3 and fucking insane when it comes to crafting electronic ejaculates intended for insertionz into the earz. Seriously, I had no idea who the dude was and after going through this album over a dozen times in the past few months, I would blow him over the internet. Actually, I'm pretty sure I just did.
The beats are fucking embarrassingly eerie and sonically futuristic, while allowing Awol the freedom to bounce in and out without sounding uncalled for. There are a few parts on this album where Nathaniel Motte is just fucking disgusting. Most notably, the last 30 seconds of Drive Have Take. Holy fucking shit I never want that fucking synth to end once it starts. SOMEONE ELSE BLOW THAT muthafucker.
Back to Awol One: I've always had this picture in my head of an ambling and bumbling hobo character, mumbling to himself. Most passing by are put off by the flower pot head, but those of us who have a bit of experience stopping and listening to the dude, he's a fucking gentleman and a scholar, if a bit intoxicated, with a water squirting flower on his lapel. His has this annoying ability, most notably on The Child Star on the track Child Starfish, to paint these pictures with his words and no matter how creepy the subject matter, you always kind of assume he's fucking with you.
Whether or not he is indeed fucking with me, I don't give a Fuck. Dude forces me to pay attention to him. And I'm fucking happy about it. He's like a foreign film where all the subtitles are in italics and say "Drunkenly:" before every sentence on every screen.