Half-asleep rock 'n' roll as deadpan, absurdist theater, or something. I can't think of the last time the phrase "I don't know" felt this simultaneously laconic and weighted with possible meaning.
Listening to this dude spit free-associative psychosis off the dome is like braving a rollercoaster ride that comes to life halfway through and tries to eat everybody waiting in line. So it's fine and dandy that Brown is all sophomoric non-sequitur bluster with no moral, no chaser, no pause for breath; bummer is, "Monopoly" has to end.
Doesn't seem too far outside the realm of possibility, does it? Dystopia enthusiast El-P does the idea proud (enough), smashing splayed similes together until you feel as skittish and out-of-sorts as he does—albeit without quite being sure of why.
Coming soon to a Soundgarden reunion tour opening slot (God willing), some fine, nu-nu-nu grunge jujitsu lite—drop tunings, portentous aphorisms enunciated just so, a tempered tempo—from Baltimore, where everybody enjoys crabs as often as realistically possible. Time was, a slab like "Paranoid" would've launched a thousand major-label internships and turned rock radio on its ear; these days, it's just a helluva great song to slow-motion head-bang to.
Did they record this via an iPhone voice memo app or something? Best reference point I can conjure up for this sort of mashed-keyboard/"Peter Gunn Theme" revenge punk: Japanther. Worst post-oi! bon mot to scream through a microphone outside a busy abortion clinic: "Electrify!/Crucify!/Penetrate!/Ovulate!" I plead ignorance; ignorance is bliss.