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the clipse lp is that PFFFFF!

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One dude I know called this album the "'06 Cannibal Ox" which I thought was funny.


This isn't the same guy who called it the "gangsta Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" is it?

Furthest from it, really.

Although I see how it could be interpreted that way.
Regardless of Cold Vein's quality, does anyone really still think it was the best rap album released in '01?


Did anyone ever think that?
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http://www.robertchristgau.com/xg/pnj/pjres01.php

I suppose Blueprint got more respect.
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Results 1 - 10 of about 11,700 for "cold vein" classic. (0.30 seconds)
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Alright i have a little admission to make i dont really think Malice is greater than Ghostface(i cant believe you people made that slide).
I was just doing my part to rile up the one called Rootlesscosmo,with that out of the way i'm gonna give you my honest opinion on this album.
I downloaded it gave it a listen and i have come to the conclusion that this is 4 tracker at best.
Ride around shining ,Nightmares,Chinese New Year and Dirty Money,all the rest are mediocre except for "Momma i'm so sorry" with has to be the most amateurish track EVER included on a rap album.
I cant see why people are calling this a classic.
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Oh by the way i heard a track by them called "Eghck" they should've included that on the album it's better than most of the stuff on there.
That dude Fam-lay murked them on their own track.
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How many "F"s does it get on the PF scale though? Is it a full 5F PFFFFF or merely a 3F PFF? The title of the thread indicates a 5F blowout.

Is it a double cap "WAMP WAMP!!!" with triple exclamation marks? or a singular lower case "wamp" followed by the elipses question mark ala "wamp...?"


Is it the shit? or is it THAT CRACK?
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Is it the shit? or is it THAT CRACK?


Both, it's that "SHIT CRACK" which makes it "ass".
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Perhaps magnetic, gary and rootlesscosmo should take their little tea party to the PM.
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still fairly mannish as far as I can tell


Perhaps magnetic, gary and rootlesscosmo should take their little tea party to the PM.


how about y'all's Clipse dickriding be taken to the PMs? shit is embarassing, all out in the open like this.
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welcome to Harlem, where you are welcome to proble


Perhaps magnetic, gary and rootlesscosmo should take their little tea party to the PM.


how about y'all's Clipse dickriding be taken to the PMs? shit is embarassing, all out in the open like this.


I know reading (and rapping) comprehension is not a strong point of yours, but I think the thread's title makes it pretty evident what its contents are.
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Perhaps magnetic, gary and rootlesscosmo should take their little tea party to the PM.


how about y'all's Clipse dickriding be taken to the PMs? shit is embarassing, all out in the open like this.




Once again it is on!
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I like it when you call me Gary.

p.s. My hair looks PERFECT today.
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Denver, CO


IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?

IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?

IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?

IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?


Please do not let this important question go unanswered, soulstrut.

I looked online and oculdn't find anything but singles. INSIDER INFO?


Its not on wax yet. All the LPs that re coming out on wax are dropping about 2-4 weeks after the CD.


Hey 33third, if your store gets this, will you inform us (or me)? Thanks.
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This thread kinda reminds me of Colbert schtick...

"Is the new Clipse a great album? Or the greatest?"


well I don't think its the greatest...


"Then I'll go ahead and mark you down as a "great.""


I think it's the best "rap album" of the year and in a long while!



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this album to me is incredible, because its like the sounds for the majority are limited to synths. if u asked me 15 years ago to define hip hop, it would be something along the lines of "rap" over beats with loops grabbed from some sample. the thing is that, that would actually also be someone's definition of hip hop who didnt take the genre seriously dismissing it as "ripping off" other people's music and dont really respect it. well with that south stuff and albums like these, they are their own source, sampling is not a mandatory thing (though really effective if done creatively). if that can't get hip hop music defined as an artist's genre, then phuck them. so i mean going through the whole album, its like majorly synth based and to a very creative extent. i dont know if any of this made sense to you, but i feel that's what defines this album for me, and generally i hate synth sounds. i usually dont listen to nightmares, but its a humbling song to end the album with.


clipse's flow to tight beats like this is off the chain. this shit has grabbed me.
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chicago


Yeah, I like this one a lot, too.

I picked this up yesterday (full price, suckers???s???nothin???), and I think dudes trying to graft onto this record some overarching concept or some moral underpinning are reaching. I can appreciate the impulse, because for many reasons (reasons, it should be noted, that are being missed by many of the over-literal smart-dumb vivisectors around here who have mistaken all the hubbub for something having to do with originality or message or subject-verb agreement or some similarly irrelevant shit) this record doesn???t feel like just another record, but, I mean, come on now: When every expression of paranoia or regret is a single pea under mattress after mattress of coke, money, lifestyle, and coke-money lifestyle, reading it as a moral tale takes an unseemly amount of princeliness. I think this insistence on the album???s progress or movement (from victim to victimizer, from underdog to top dog, from braggadocio to remorse, etc.) rings false because part of what???s really hitting me is the brilliant static quality of this record. Nothing on here goes anywhere. Every single song on this thing traces a very small circle--sell crack, get money, spend money, feel vague regret, but then get back to business--but traces it repeatedly, deeper every time, and with perfect focus. And it???s this repetition, this relentlessness, this inescapable acting-out of the same sequence and following the same circuit track after track after track that gives the whole thing its hypnotic gravity. It makes no sense at all to hold up individual lyrics and say, ???See, these guys are smart because they know that the crack game is destructive, they know that wealth has made them paranoid and incapable of love, and I know that they know because they say it once in this one song and again in this other and???.??? Please miss me with that shit. Whatever this record accomplishes, it does so not by talking about it, but by feeling like it. Just like Velvet Underground???s ???Heroin??? succeeds not because it says ???Man, heroin sure is fucked??? but because it feels magnetic and horrifying, or just like There???s A Riot Goin??? On succeeds not because it says ???Fuck you, hippies???shit is real??? but because it feels dystopian and personal and cauterized and utterly non-communal, Hell Hath No Fury succeeds not by pointing out the traps of the crack game, but by feeling, on every conceivable level, trapped. Everything that happens in these songs feels like it's already happened--no real history, no important future, just...done. Time is flat. Everything just is. For all the references to jets and Europe and globe-trotting hither and yon, I hear no exterior at all in this record???it???s all driver???s seats and cockpits and showrooms and hotel rooms and front rooms and VIP rooms and rooms with walls that seem to be closing in because they are. It's the airtight coffin that won't let the body decompose, yunno? You won???t get that listening to one cut or quoting one verse; it's all in the accumulation. They keep piling on detail after detail because, after all, what else can they do? Shit just keeps coming, but their circle isn't getting any bigger.

And the music knows this, too. All the beats are big, but not one of them sounds open to me. Just like the lyrics, they all sound both inescapable and incapable of escaping themselves, just evil and broke-dick, grindstone after grindstone. No whole drums anywhere???those that are shiny are broken (the clipped cymbal fills in "Dirty Money"), and those that are healthy are obscured (the massive rolls buried alive under "Hello New World"). There???s all these bits of hand percussion beating cloven hooves under everything, and from the wheezing squeezebox in ???Mama I???m So Sorry??? to the muzzy keyboard nag in ???Dirty Money??? to the unintelligible spoken-word particulate that clogs some distant filter in the deep background of ???Trill,??? the whole thing just sounds enormous and syphilitic. As a setting for the above, it couldn???t be more perfect. I don???t expect to hear a record this good for quite a while.

And who the fuck is mistaking this for a club record?
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^^^^^Absolutely great post
you're selling me on it!
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IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?

IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?

IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?

IS THIS OUT ON VINYL YET (EVER)?


Please do not let this important question go unanswered, soulstrut.

I looked online and oculdn't find anything but singles. INSIDER INFO?


Its not on wax yet. All the LPs that re coming out on wax are dropping about 2-4 weeks after the CD.


Hey 33third, if your store gets this, will you inform us (or me)? Thanks.



yeh i am working on it right now...
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welcome to Harlem, where you are welcome to proble


Yeah, I like this one a lot, too.

I picked this up yesterday (full price, suckers???s???nothin???), and I think dudes trying to graft onto this record some overarching concept or some moral underpinning are reaching. I can appreciate the impulse, because for many reasons (reasons, it should be noted, that are being missed by many of the over-literal smart-dumb vivisectors around here who have mistaken all the hubbub for something having to do with originality or message or subject-verb agreement or some similarly irrelevant shit) this record doesn???t feel like just another record, but, I mean, come on now: When every expression of paranoia or regret is a single pea under mattress after mattress of coke, money, lifestyle, and coke-money lifestyle, reading it as a moral tale takes an unseemly amount of princeliness. I think this insistence on the album???s progress or movement (from victim to victimizer, from underdog to top dog, from braggadocio to remorse, etc.) rings false because part of what???s really hitting me is the brilliant static quality of this record. Nothing on here goes anywhere. Every single song on this thing traces a very small circle--sell crack, get money, spend money, feel vague regret, but then get back to business--but traces it repeatedly, deeper every time, and with perfect focus. And it???s this repetition, this relentlessness, this inescapable acting-out of the same sequence and following the same circuit track after track after track that gives the whole thing its hypnotic gravity. It makes no sense at all to hold up individual lyrics and say, ???See, these guys are smart because they know that the crack game is destructive, they know that wealth has made them paranoid and incapable of love, and I know that they know because they say it once in this one song and again in this other and???.??? Please miss me with that shit. Whatever this record accomplishes, it does so not by talking about it, but by feeling like it. Just like Velvet Underground???s ???Heroin??? succeeds not because it says ???Man, heroin sure is fucked??? but because it feels magnetic and horrifying, or just like There???s A Riot Goin??? On succeeds not because it says ???Fuck you, hippies???shit is real??? but because it feels dystopian and personal and cauterized and utterly non-communal, Hell Hath No Fury succeeds not by pointing out the traps of the crack game, but by feeling, on every conceivable level, trapped. Everything that happens in these songs feels like it's already happened--no real history, no important future, just...done. Time is flat. Everything just is. For all the references to jets and Europe and globe-trotting hither and yon, I hear no exterior at all in this record???it???s all driver???s seats and cockpits and showrooms and hotel rooms and front rooms and VIP rooms and rooms with walls that seem to be closing in because they are. It's the airtight coffin that won't let the body decompose, yunno? You won???t get that listening to one cut or quoting one verse; it's all in the accumulation. They keep piling on detail after detail because, after all, what else can they do? Shit just keeps coming, but their circle isn't getting any bigger.

And the music knows this, too. All the beats are big, but not one of them sounds open to me. Just like the lyrics, they all sound both inescapable and incapable of escaping themselves, just evil and broke-dick, grindstone after grindstone. No whole drums anywhere???those that are shiny are broken (the clipped cymbal fills in "Dirty Money"), and those that are healthy are obscured (the massive rolls buried alive under "Hello New World"). There???s all these bits of hand percussion beating cloven hooves under everything, and from the wheezing squeezebox in ???Mama I???m So Sorry??? to the muzzy keyboard nag in ???Dirty Money??? to the unintelligible spoken-word particulate that clogs some distant filter in the deep background of ???Trill,??? the whole thing just sounds enormous and syphilitic. As a setting for the above, it couldn???t be more perfect. I don???t expect to hear a record this good for quite a while.

And who the fuck is mistaking this for a club record?



exactly.





Hi James.


You're sorely missed around these parts.
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^^^^^Absolutely great post
you're selling me on it!


james, you just made deej wet himself.

Please try to exercise greater restraint in the future when confronted with such leaky personalities.
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@ James post: Precise!
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^^^^^Absolutely great post
you're selling me on it!


james, you just made deej wet himself.

Please try to exercise greater restraint in the future when confronted with such leaky personalities.

lord my shit wouldnt be so wet all the time if you weren't always on my dick

srsly if someone's going to bother to give a shit enough to actually explain why they like something then they deserve soem RESPEK. I dont even think the album is as good as all that but i think he captured whats good about it better than any of the fawning articles i've read or any of the bandwagon jumping/ rill-rap-hatting going on this thread.
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^realest shit james ever wrote.

seriously, i'm floored.
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SOMER



lord my shit wouldnt be so wet all the time if you weren't always on my dick



Anatomically, there's some confusion going on here.
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Odub there was finally a moment of real talk on this thread and you're going to perpetuate some annoying fauxrillzisms? c'mon now.
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SOMER


Odub there was finally a moment of real talk on this thread and you're going to perpetuate some annoying fauxrillzisms? c'mon now.


Uh, I didn't write the original retort. You did. Why rise to the bait if you know it's bait?
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play or get played.

anyway, back to the issue at hand...
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play or get played.


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Go and laugh in your own country


Yeah, I like this one a lot, too.

I picked this up yesterday (full price, suckers???s???nothin???), and I think dudes trying to graft onto this record some overarching concept or some moral underpinning are reaching. I can appreciate the impulse, because for many reasons (reasons, it should be noted, that are being missed by many of the over-literal smart-dumb vivisectors around here who have mistaken all the hubbub for something having to do with originality or message or subject-verb agreement or some similarly irrelevant shit) this record doesn???t feel like just another record, but, I mean, come on now: When every expression of paranoia or regret is a single pea under mattress after mattress of coke, money, lifestyle, and coke-money lifestyle, reading it as a moral tale takes an unseemly amount of princeliness. I think this insistence on the album???s progress or movement (from victim to victimizer, from underdog to top dog, from braggadocio to remorse, etc.) rings false because part of what???s really hitting me is the brilliant static quality of this record. Nothing on here goes anywhere. Every single song on this thing traces a very small circle--sell crack, get money, spend money, feel vague regret, but then get back to business--but traces it repeatedly, deeper every time, and with perfect focus. And it???s this repetition, this relentlessness, this inescapable acting-out of the same sequence and following the same circuit track after track after track that gives the whole thing its hypnotic gravity. It makes no sense at all to hold up individual lyrics and say, ???See, these guys are smart because they know that the crack game is destructive, they know that wealth has made them paranoid and incapable of love, and I know that they know because they say it once in this one song and again in this other and???.??? Please miss me with that shit. Whatever this record accomplishes, it does so not by talking about it, but by feeling like it. Just like Velvet Underground???s ???Heroin??? succeeds not because it says ???Man, heroin sure is fucked??? but because it feels magnetic and horrifying, or just like There???s A Riot Goin??? On succeeds not because it says ???Fuck you, hippies???shit is real??? but because it feels dystopian and personal and cauterized and utterly non-communal, Hell Hath No Fury succeeds not by pointing out the traps of the crack game, but by feeling, on every conceivable level, trapped. Everything that happens in these songs feels like it's already happened--no real history, no important future, just...done. Time is flat. Everything just is. For all the references to jets and Europe and globe-trotting hither and yon, I hear no exterior at all in this record???it???s all driver???s seats and cockpits and showrooms and hotel rooms and front rooms and VIP rooms and rooms with walls that seem to be closing in because they are. It's the airtight coffin that won't let the body decompose, yunno? You won???t get that listening to one cut or quoting one verse; it's all in the accumulation. They keep piling on detail after detail because, after all, what else can they do? Shit just keeps coming, but their circle isn't getting any bigger.

And the music knows this, too. All the beats are big, but not one of them sounds open to me. Just like the lyrics, they all sound both inescapable and incapable of escaping themselves, just evil and broke-dick, grindstone after grindstone. No whole drums anywhere???those that are shiny are broken (the clipped cymbal fills in "Dirty Money"), and those that are healthy are obscured (the massive rolls buried alive under "Hello New World"). There???s all these bits of hand percussion beating cloven hooves under everything, and from the wheezing squeezebox in ???Mama I???m So Sorry??? to the muzzy keyboard nag in ???Dirty Money??? to the unintelligible spoken-word particulate that clogs some distant filter in the deep background of ???Trill,??? the whole thing just sounds enormous and syphilitic. As a setting for the above, it couldn???t be more perfect. I don???t expect to hear a record this good for quite a while.

And who the fuck is mistaking this for a club record?


What he said.

The End.
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Time's a wastin
n***as doin so much hatin
free ya heart and show ya greatness
i like you, had to come from up under the basement
just like you, had Satan tryin my patience
still you look at me thru jealous eyes
i wish to see yo my n***as rise UP
get that money, put the nines up
piggyback from out the ghetto 'for time's up
n***as RUSH
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