"Hypno babes rules my pants!"...
Blam! Bodyslamming thunderbeats send you spinning, diabolical elektro-bass knocks you flat, then a devil-dog rapper spits blood, piss, shit and spunk all over your face. [I]”I’ve got my bass degree/It’s my PhD/I come from Mental Hard Beat University”[/I]. Gold Chains, aka Topher LaFata from San Francisco, has rocked the mic with techno vandal Kid606 but he’s clearly bursting with his own ideas.
[I]”Hypno babes rules my pants!”[/I] he roars, oddly, over grimy ragga-dub distortion grooves: [I]”I’m the bedroom commander/The king of love!”[/I] Surfing a toxic sludge-wave of steroid-pumped laptop funk, beatbox scuzz, porno-rap, bruising dubtronica, rasping punk-metal guitars, Armenian goatherd bagpipes and even a drone-rocking Stereolab sample, LaFata is hip-hopping mad to the max. He raps about trading rhymes for arms in Chechnya and [I] “kicking it with JC”[/I] in ancient Palestine – genius.
‘Gold Chains’ sounds exactly like ARE Weapons would if they weren’t a piss-poor Renegade Soundwave tribute band, and how Andrew WK would if his musical mentor was Ol’ Dirty Bastard rather than Ugly Kid Joe. Time to get [I]really[/I] wet.