NAH

Except for all of the actual real life problems, being a music junkie isn't that different from drugs. I wake up with weird zip files in my downloads. I can't remember where exactly I got them. Was is another blog or podcast? A friend? A Syffal submission? Somebody I met? A sponsored Facebook post that to be honest annoy me most of the time I see them like I'm not seeing this because I truly like you but because you spent real-life money to make sure that I did and for that I probably wouldn't click it because I have problems like that? 

But there it is. Its eyes closed. I can see it breathing. Sleeping. I know it's not dead. Exactly how deep did I go, here? I try falling back asleep pretending that maybe when I wake up it'll be gone. But there's no use. 

I start to piece back together what exactly had happened. There had been the usual. And then nothing.

I have no choice but to wake it up. Drag it into the library.  

Two 12-minute long files. "Side A," "Side B." 

NAH, LIGHT AS FUCK. 

Press play.

I fell down a tunnel fast. Its side covered in flashing subliminal visuals, a bleep here, a bloop there, a fax machine, a hammer, no hammers to the fucking face! Frenetically sucked along into negative space, my ears delivering energy like solar panels. Can we convert this fucking feeling to help reduce reliance on fossil fuels? 

NAH is a percussionist and so much more. With all the production credits, NAH's ability to transport me from my living room to Brussels to Philadelphia and back in time to a warehouse in 1997 on Santa Fe in Downtown, Los Angeles stomping in unison to a 4x4 EVIL beat set to seizure speed is FUCKING incredible. What some people are calling noise, I call memories.

Even the bad ones are good. 

NAH's hip hop breaks idly masturbate to an orgy of hardcore techno sensibilities which are really just thrash metal and punk sensibilities sped up to 190 bpms, intelligent and entertaining arrangements (with a raised eyebrow and a nod to dem drums, tho!), and a well-placed scream or to-normal-people-repulsive sample or vile verse (or Ho99or cameo) to end heaving and satisfied, sweaty and covered in god knows what. 

But feeling...feeling...FEELING...LIGHT AS FUCK! 

(Note: As I wrote this I realized where I'd heard the name NAH and just what rabbit hole had delivered me this magic: it was K Death's Moodiehouse podcast. Episode 6 to be exact as I try my best to keep up with those guys over there.)