Download Latest Dj Gambit Mixtape 2022
Sasha Stolt
In this area there are two gaps in the path from where we dropped down on the way to the right. The first leads to a kitchen area where we'll see Death trying his hand at cooking, whilst the second has a couple of creatures to chat with on the right and a fellow with a mad mixtape on the left. Listen to his music for some humorous scenes.
At his year-old shop, Nuthin But Fire Records on North Claiborne and Elysian Fields avenues, the rapper Sess 4-5 is also building relationships as much as selling discs. The 30-year-old has been in the local music business since his high school classmate, the rapper Daddy-O, came back to school with a brand-new album. As a teenager, Sess started out guesting on mixtapes by local artists like Daddy-O and the L.O.G, and selling his own recordings on burned CDs in parking lots and outside of gas stations. Nuthin But Fire was started in 2002, mostly to put on hip-hop shows and events. Sess promoted one of the first rap shows to take place in New Orleans after the storm, hosting Cheeky Blakk and L.O.G. at a West Bank club in fall 2005. Now, the shop he opened in June 2007 in partnership with the rapper 6th Ward Pook, is the headquarters for a production company, a record label and the monthly hip-hop networking event Industry Influence, which Nuthin but Fire hosts along with Q93.3-FM DJ Wild Wayne.
With the store as a base of operations, Sess and Pook have continued to promote shows locally, as well as putting out seven mixtape compilations of tracks by local artists on the Nuthin But Fire label. The Industry Influence event, which usually consists of a speaker, a panel discussion, an open mike for questions and a live music showcase, is seven months old.
'When we came up with the idea of doing a store, we definitely wanted to do the original mixtape underground type stuff. But also, we were one of the first record stores that opened back up in Orleans. We wanted to provide music for everyone. So we've got the gospel, the R&B, the oldies-but-goodies, hip-hop, local, West Coast, everything," Sess says.
Slang is nuanced, elliptical. The token black guy on an 80s sitcom might explain: Sometimes bad means good, sometimes bad means bad, and sometimes bad means really, really fucking good. "New Slang" is like the last of these, and it's also like its namesake. One of the subtlest breakup songs ever to make its way onto furtive mixtapes for summer-camp crushes, James Mercer's organic, mesa-top masterpiece also features the most striking studio fade-in since U2 stepped up the bombast for "Where the Streets Have No Name". Meanwhile, McDonald's may have noticed the stripes, but "the dirt in your fries" somehow slipped through. For this, the Shins were called sell-outs even as they simply adapted to the reality that commercials are one of the last remaining forums for undiscovered pop to reach a mass audience. Hell, "New Slang" might have been this generation's "The Sound of Silence" if Garden State hadn't been balls. --Marc Hogan
Don't get me wrong: I love the Specials. But this paean to checkered Chuck Taylor foppishness could be clamoring for the deification of Skid Row's Sebastian Bach and it would still be a tremendous song. "Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?" is one of the most unlikely indie triumphs of the aught decade's waxing half: a howling, hard-driven shuffle and incidental homage to ska from a blue-collar shredder whose music has been compared to Thin Lizzy. Any song putting together great riffs, a "Telephone Hour"-style chorus, and a deft set of sing-along-inducing vocal corybantics would, on formulaic principle, induce repeat plays. But Ted Leo took a gambit, upping the quirk factor with absurd subject matter, piling on the beautiful dueling-gender vox until threatening an avalanche, and singing like he was born blue in the face. And look what happened! It still leaves me inexplicably in tears-- something not even the Specials could accomplish. --Sam Ubl
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