In the interest of full disclosure, don’t ever question my Them Team fandom. Seriously, Bles could prolly drop a 45-minute EP of straight dial tone, with a loop of El Mizell and emecks whisper-yelling “Swag!” every :30 seconds, and I’d likely laud the release: “This shit is…it’s just…so mahfuckin…CONSISTENT!” Or something like that. Anyway, now that we got that out the way, lemmetellyasomethin: the first time I listened to Don’t Talk To The Cops! sophomore release, Let’s Quit, I was like: ‘what?’ and she was like, ‘huh?’ and I was like ‘hmmm’.
Where was the patented 808-style bass hits? Where’s the multitude of multi-media, pop culture and golden-era samples? What in the low-er fi, reverb-ier, punk-hop-ier FUCK is going on here?? But then I was like, ‘oh….that’s better,’ because I remembered why I really listened to Mash Hall and DTTC! in the first place; why I wore the shit out of Regular Show: I just wanna feed my obsession for neck-breaking, lip-curling beats laced with witty punch lines (and punch-dancing), West Coast love, hilarious skits, and Dro-bots, all mixed between bouts of Tourette’s. Exhale…
Of course, now I’m like 187 times through Let’s Quit, and I’ve realized that a lot of that shit I though was missing is actually in there, just a lil’ more subtle (“…keep bangin’,” says K-Ci-BlesOne), but now I have a new problem. You see, I don’t think this album was made for anyone other than the two main components of DTTTC! It’s not about B-Boying…not about the left coast…not about 808’s and Heartbreaks. Well, maybe the “Heart” part is important, ‘cause it seems to me that this album is about love. Maybe I’m digging too deep, but indulge me, son.
There’s a reason this shit comes out on St. Valentine’s Day: almost every song plays like a “this is why I love you” theme. Well, minus “Murderburger”, maybe (although this pic would make any man want a Murderburger…AND emecks – good work, Bles! LOL). It really feels like the two of them are sharing their feelings for one another, and sharing them with the whole world. Peep: “I Like Nerds” to start it all off (needs no explanation); “if you want it, you got it, I’m wit’ it, open the door to your Civic…” (“Hey…Don’t Eat Those”), even though it’s a totaled Honda now (truly glad you’re OK, lady!); “…let these vowels be our vows, these consonants be infinite…” in “Tattoo My Name”?? I mean…it’s pretty clear what’s going on here.
What’s not clear is: how the FUCK am I supposed to compete with that, y’all??? Nothing I do for the Mrs. this February 14th (or any other V-Day, for that matter), will ever compare to this. Thanks. Dicks.
Luckily, I’m not the only one who’s pissed at this flagrant PDA: pretty sure “Puke Party” is what happens when Bles and emecks’ invited the rest of the Love Family to join in the love fest - to which DTTTC! gets to hear what the rest of the crew thinks of this mooshie, open-mouthed, get-a-room-already display of the international language (and I’m not talmbout math, son).
Don’t get me wrong, though. As I type this, I’m finishing up the 211th rotation of Let’s Quit. Even knowing that I’m basically engaging in an audible form of voyeurism, I can’t stop bumping this shit. The obvious influences of touring with Mad Rad (some P-Smoov-esque sounds on some of these beats); of the simplistic, punchy songs by Butts (who’s former front-woman, Rachel Ratner, provides the reverb-drenched guitar on several tracks); all of it works so well together as DTTTC! explores the outer limits of their love and creativity. And cheeseburgers.
Bottom line (and I should know better by now), the only thing consistent about the Mash Hall Love Family is great fucking music. Let’s Quit is no exception. You’ll laugh (hella), you’ll gig, and, unless you’re bitter about some broad who broke your heart (or, just a hater), you’ll absolutely LOVE this album.
Catch a ride on Cupid’s arrow over here to find out where to buy this shit now (iTunes coming soon). Or, if you’re bored tonight, head on over to Lil’ Woody’s and join Don’t Talk To The Cops! for a listening party and a Murderburger. It’s all love, thicker than blood.