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P.O.S. “I Don’t Even Live Here” | Rhymesayers

P.O.S. is doing it different.

The use of vehicles such as punk, big band funk and electronic wave their way over his spit that isn’t overwhelming and lets the music breathe. “Bumper” and “They Can’t Come feat.  Sim” are highlights in the mist of this progressive hip-hop album, I Don’t Even Live Here. The production is bumpin’ as well as the use of instrumentals/electronics.

It feels like an entire band meshed inside of an electronic universe where punk aesthetic and hip-hop fornicate freely. El-P has much responsibility for the sound provided on “I Don’t Live Here” which is absolutely a good thing. El-P did, in his way, re-invent hip-hop and put up his middle finger higher than most while respecting where he came from. P.O.S. is working from a different level but offering a very satisfactory result.

The drum patterns are fascinating, provocative and somewhat intimidating. The album, all in all, is an enormous effort at taking hip-hop into different corners of the musical spectrum. What’s new on his fifth release is the dance approach that was not so apparent on his prior releases. It is much more party infused, but the anger seeps through no less making the dance all the more enjoyable.

Take “Get Down” for example (featuring Mike Mictlan). It bumps enough to be in a club, a hydraulic bouncing convertible and headphones while wandering around a city. It’s versatile, and that’s really why the album works well. P.O.S. have bounced through and, from live videos, they pull off their sound equally as well.

-Xavi Vil

Buy on iTunes w/ 2 bonus tracksListen on SpotifyBuy at Fifth ElementBuy on Amazon


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Directors: Isaac Gale and David Jensen
Cinematographers: David Underhill, Isaac Gale
Editors: Carlos Lamas, Isaac Gale
Art Director: David Jensen
Producer: Kate Iverson
Colorist: Chumm
AC: Chris Hadland
Key Grip: Matt Kane
Gaffer: Erik Thomsen
PA: Patrick White
Production Company: Permanent ADG
Special Thanks: Northrup King Building

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P.O.S ft Mike Mictlan “Get Down” | Official Music Video

From The Rhymesayers | http://rhymesayers.com/

Buy on iTunes: http://bit.ly/poswdelhit
Buy on CD/Vinyl: http://bit.ly/poswdelh

LYRICS

Lungs like smoke stacks | young black terror attack | hair on their neck raised | scarin them back | keepin my Kerouac first rate | they in the first grade | beggin like babies | gimme gimme wah | we too dirty man | shimmy shimmy ya | skinny bars, naw | all cents no penny jar | snub a star | celebrity fed | no meals worth mentioning | all unsettling | nihilist | anarchist | mind set reddening | need what? | fuck meds | all dead everything | these cats | on that | all hail | petty things | ready with the cheat | imma beat em in they sleep | as soon as the door open | they hittin the floor hoping | to get to the front row | my shows are so lightning | where ever we go | the team steadily grows | man who knows | they figure we do it right, but | no one gives a fuck about shit | so fuck your shit | we fuck shit up | cause shit’s fucked anyway | shit is run into the ground | (i know right) | I don’t wanna think about it | I just wanna get down | get down get down | until we come up | I don’t wanna think about it | I just wanna get down | get down get down | cause shit’s fucked | get down get down | I ain’t tryna hear that | I just wanna get down | untill we come up | (MIKE MICTLAN) | it ain’t nothin but a Doomtree Goon thang | get your face peeled back homeboy Uday Hussein | barehanded rippin em beware citizen terror got a new face class war hooligan | gimme what you got |show me what you want | let me fix your market crash your stock | bad credit no credit shoulda never paid back | banks selling guns and farmers hunt in grey slacks | Maybach’s chopped off mounted with the Gatling | Beverly Trillbillies treasure trunk rattling | we settin up Fight Clubs, you hang at night clubs | passin out cocktails the kind that light up | everybody in the back get risky | burn the clerb down if you’re spending more than fifty | and if they ugly up the scene? | I don’t wanna think about it I just wanna Get Down! | get down get down | until we come up | I don’t wanna think about it | I just wanna get down | yeah I don’t wanna think about it, chea | it’s all bad | I ain’t tryna hear that | I just wanna get down | get down get down | until we come up

Video by: Beests
Directors: Isaac Gale, David Jensen, Maria Juranic
Editor: JoLynn Garnes
Producers: Maria Juranic and Scott Ferril
Production Company: Permanent ADG and Rent The Sky Films
Location Manager: Kate Iverson
Stylist: Jane Belfry and Caleb Gudmundson

Director of Photography: Ryan Kron Thompson
1st AC: Chris Peck
2nd AC: Mike Everett
Gaffer: Dave Underhill
Key Grip: Erik Thomsen
Grip: Daniel Garritsen

1st AD: Carrie Bush and Bryan Shelley
2nd AD: Aaron Richey and Scott Nordhausen
Key PA: Rick Hankes
PA: Patrick White

Make Up: Desiree Forget, Sara Vanderploeg, Alice Berman and Romeny Chan
Hair Stylists: Desiree Forget, Eunice Pitts and Justin Waltenberg

On Set SFX: Jeff Thompson and Cassie Anderson
Colorist: Josh Allard at Pixel Farm
Flame Artist: Matt Collings at Ditch
Online Post Producer: Leah Rogers at Ditch

Thank You To:
All of the amazing Twin Cities Dancers
Erick Recktenwald & The Lab Digital
CineMechanics
Ivy Morrison
Brian Berkey of Berkey System
American Apparel
Rewind Vintage
Ragstock

Select backgrounds by Michael Cina for Area Designed Environments

http://rhymesayers.com/pos
http://facebook.com/yeahrightpos
http://twitter.com/yeahrightpos

Aesop Rock “Zero Dark Thirty” (Official Music Video)

From Rhymesayers Entertainment (rhymesayers.com)

Pre-Order Skelethon from Fifth Element: http://bit.ly/IRjQnX

Download “Zero Dark Thirty”: http://snd.sc/InSPth

The first video/single from Aesop Rock’s upcoming album Skelethon.

Director: Isaac Ravishankara
DP: Kevin Hayden
Producer: Brooke Kennedy
EP: Danielle Hinde
Editor: Isaac Ravishankara
Artist: Coro
Production Company: Doomsday Entertainment

http://rhymesayers.com/aesoprock
http://twitter.com/aesoprockwins
http://aesoprock.com

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Lyrics

Unsigned hype, front line aeronauts flurry, zero dark thirty, zero friends, minotaur-fugly stepchild, evoke lunch jumped over plunging necklines, up, beside tongue-tied hungry enzymes, devolved into mothmen munching textiles, punisher, out past go-time, back 10 fried worms chubbier, brown grass both sides, canned food, manmade tools, Lanacane, band-aids, mandrake root, bindle on a broom stick, pancaked shoes and handshake-proof campaign, can’t lose, can’t gain, smoke out moles like a force of nature, pray fortune return to his favor, swiftly, maybe in the form of a nest egg, maybe in the form of a tesla death ray, or a solid gold scene with something better to celebrate than powder on your face like a flat foot on jelly day, m-m-moral compass all batshit, spinning in the shadows of immoral magnets, are we supporting the artist or enabling the addict, I mean, I guess it matters to me, I wish it mattered to you, how a thousand virtues, kick the same bucket like chinatown turtles

Roving packs of elusive young, become choke-lore writers over boosted drums, in the terrifying face of a future tongue, Down from a huntable surplus to one

(check his own) Breakneck pulse over colors in a drain that emote sugar skulls in the rain, flower-eyes melting, guided by a levy made of bath tiles tilting, quarter up and headed for the kill screen, no corner cut, no build team, only a particularly menacing, angle perpendicular to everything, boys room cherry bomb, boy/goon very much runnin’ with the devil in the mellotron, hello, here’s where a tale of caution, pounds coffin nails to bootlegs of Hawkwind, saw tooth, nevermind straw to gold, spin hearts on sleeves into heads on poles, arm in the maw, fish out pith like a business card from a jar at the mall, A-alike androids dreaming of carbon applause get stuffed with cartoon cigars, cold pack, neti-pot, home to roost, around folk backed into what they most lampoon, shook to the fevered brow and broke ankles, daisy, declawed pound, no thank you, fade me, failed all basic training but I spent a couple groundhogs days with a changeling, silouhette the god last cigarette, anything less would be re-god-damn-diculous

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