Review: Richard The Third – Left Of Center
I find myself traveling on a gravel road, bouncing up and down on the synthetic leopard-fur-covered seat. This neon taxi traveling through the unknown lines of a town-ship tale. Surrounded by the scenery of the ever so catchy kwaito beast chasing the sexiness of my seat. Head pop, hip swirl, this bounce art beats to the rhythm of our African soul. Deep layered kicks covering the base of the ground, which this reverberation of a journey travels sound. Subterranean from within a fire explodes! A rather ancestral celebration of the Eclectro is complete. One foot stomp to the ground – tap that bAAAAASss – back down, back down from this boss. Keep to the left, cross… that red light, tap thrice, to evoke the creature of night.
In the backseat, light panning crusts crumbles to this Afro-Dust. This taxi-space ship, now, takes off. Reflective sounds in-house water dancing delicately off a cosmos of sardines moments before it gets Pilchard. Rhythmic choppy palpitating waves. Love the panning sunny side up, subtle little rushes in the back. The build-up is a District9-Yoda on acid – eerie lows and highs with this sarcastic synth; left wing passenger seat. So abrupt this Oh-9-Yoda speaks! This mind’s got attitude yo! OOOH!!! Adventure strikes, psychedelic visuals shoot their bows through this leopard-crow. Something slightly dark creeps in. Takes your brow up and down – head-throb-bob refined by the drrr-UUHMS; kick back, drop, HIp hOP, stOP. Hit IT.
Slowly these Black Porcelain mermaids sing their stories in vibrating rings around your heart. Deep – SUBmarine – house 50 frames per second with a slap of Berlin filter that stretches and flows. Spikiri lights his cigarrrrr to “Ufanani ft The Ruffest“. Afreeeeeek got bongo-bongo! OG of sugar can-feeds. Now close your eyes for a moment as Sibot would say – transcend… losing your 8th sight in mind of your Oh-9-Yoda, a sound that projects a flashing light. Bird like, its seams, these noises that form shapes, characters in your centre mind dreams. Sound reminiscent of old black and blue cartoons hitting the side of shack shape piece of metal – open whole illumination; an African mythology discovery? Those lyrics, vocals kill me. Ladies bringing soul into this mythical Eclectro.
Abstract distortion, imagine an UtOPia of cartoon workers in a coco factory; rhythmically off sync, moving like melting chocolate over a conveyer belt of Afro-Dust cakes. This scent intoxicates you, your back is now comfortable and the fur-covered seat wraps you round like the spots do a leopard. This organic vehicle she speaks.. Oh-9-Yoda. A flash of NEO-ON and a rabbit. This time there is no option between blue and red. This Afro-Dust Purple Gold has finally been fed.
African Dope Records: http://shop.africandope.co.za/product.php?id_product=100