I now consider my Soul Inscribed as it takes a certain admiral girth to unzip, whip, and slap your song out on the table like this shit is self-titled like the record which is also the title of my band. But other than gasp at the apparent circumference of their Sir Cumference, I don’t know shit about them except that judging from the scenery in the video I just watched they’re from New York.

That said the video was cold! That’s cold as in holy shit it looks fucking really cold back there (as in the the kind of bone-chill that I would like nothing to fucking do with), and cold as in cold-fucking blooded! That soulful jazz swing over a classic break had me rifling through linen closets for a blanket to protect me from the dangerously low temperatures! Then like a frozen winter wind, dude fucking sliced through my meager jacket with perfectly pocketed raps.

These fucking dudes seem like a great hang. Like I could walk right into the apartment and take off the seventeen layers of jackets and hoodies and thermals and cock-warmers (PLURAL) it would take me to chill and once we got the temperature regulated, I’m pretty sure these fucking would be as boring as hanging out with any rap group until someone pours the Jameson.