Food for Animals

Food for Animals
Scavengers EP
[Muckamuck Produce/Upper Class; 2004]
Rating: 7.0

When does a piece of experimental music move beyond unlistenable noise, past the point of defiant curiosity, to the realm of unparalleled genius? Hard to quantify, even for the most mathematical at heart, but you know it when you hear it. Certain elements must be accounted for-- most importantly, an emotional ballast is essential to keep any twangy wigouts from veering into self-indulgent, alienating miasmic slop. In hip-hop-- a genre defined primarily by its rigid rhythmic orientation-- the channels of experimentation are actually a bit more open, though maybe somewhat more predictable. That is, fuck with rhythm and you're fucking with the foundation of hip-hop. But inject that aforementioned depth of emotion into a shattered and rebuilt rhythmic template, and you might arrive at something vital.

Food for Animals step up to the plate and mostly obliterate the rhythmic conventions we've come to expect from hip-hop. This isn't skittering, hiccuped eski beat or minimalist schiz-hop pong hits; what remains after DJ/producer Ricky Rabbit goes Rick James all over his ProTools setup sounds like a field recording from a sheet metal factory getting flattened by a herd of bulldozers. In fact, it isn't until two minutes into this 20-minute sound test that any semblance of a beat settles for MC Vulture Voltaire to rap over. But once he rolls through Rabbit's swarm of killer beats with a brassy, heavyweight tone, the gravity is difficult to ignore.

Don't be misled: You have to be in the mood for this sometimes withering assault. When Voltaire comes in over the twisted strings and stuttering drums of "Brand New", all semblance of dance floor contrivance and headphone filler are laid to waste. Rock Scavengers while flipping through Vice in the waiting room of your local body piercing shop with Jim Beam and bad powder on hand as your only anesthetic.

After several early tunes are burnt up with Rabbit's short jagged percussion stabs and Voltaire's soulful, low-in-the-mix rage, the final 12 minutes show the blood-quickening power this duo is capable of. The whole album is a rant against Bush's stolen presidency, but "Cut and Paste" and the title track are especially sweltering with Voltaire's pointed lyrical barbs. His voice, bristling with clipped urgency, is clear, aggressive and angry, yet possessed with the self-aware humor of the most articulate political MCs. It's the anchor that pulls the ear down through Rabbit's torrential beat smashing and the means by which Food for Animals manages to strike a teetering balance of chaos and focus that prods a second listen. By the time the instrumental "TTFN" closes the album, you've probably been suckered into the band's abrasive, unlikely funk.

I can't imagine too many hip-hop heads cranking Scavengers this summer, but grizzled fans of dark art-hop like Kid 606 and Dälek will likely grit their teeth in a joyful agony as Food for Animals blasts into some well-muscled noise. Recommended only for those with a high tolerance for serial grime and a taste for the sharper, harder edge of hip-hop.

-Jonathan Zwickel, June 28th, 2004 - Jonathan Zwickel

Scavengers EP
Muckamuck, 2004
rating: 4/5
reviewer: wolfman


One of the reasons why hip-hop has been so successful in the last 20 years is its performers' ability to stretch the musical borders. Beyond the acceptance to mainstream and the hybridization of hip-hop with all different kinds of music, including funk, jazz, R&B, metal, etc, hip-hop music has diversified its sound since its inception. Yes, hip-hop will always have a set core of instrumentation -- the beats of the DJ and uniform cadences of emcees -- but what if you remove one of the vital elements? Is it still hip-hop? For sure it is, recognizing that the new structures and arrangements adapt and metamorphoses into an admired amalgamation. Nothing else can render the musical style more respectfully than when it reconstructs itself.

Food For Animals' Scavengers EP is reconstructed hip-hop. Sharing comparisons to Dalek's apocalyptic tactics, Food For Animals (aka Volture Voltaire and Ricky Rabbit) scour and grate the listener's minds with politically mocking banter and deranged instrumentation. While Voltaire's emcee delivery is reminiscent of a fiery and possessed Boots Reilly or Michael Franti (remember the Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy?), Scavengers' music accompaniment is idiosyncratic, leaving listeners astonished and mind-boggled. Not classified as customary hip-hop (but is in fact hip-hop) Rabbit's beats fall between epileptic drum 'n bass and electro-hop, while Voltaire's anti-Bush lyrics permeate ferociously and violently, painting an unpleasant but necessary picture of today's political evil. And without Rabbit's scattering hostility, Voltaire's argument would not succeed or evolve.

Food For Animals' disposition is truly authentic, reinventing hip-hop (again) to convey its message for a new context, accurately and convincingly. The musical soundtrack is ideal for the thematic subject matter of the album. Songs like "Cut and Paste" and "Scavengers" exemplifies Food For Animals' ruggedness and affection. And while today's electro hip-hop becomes convincingly more mainstream, Food For Animals hammer its context with brutal energy and frenetic force.
- Tinymixtapes.com