Your early guide to the 2032 Summer Olympiad: the august competitors, streaming into neo-London from all over the world, will be half unmanned drone, half Centaur, and all heart; an unnervingly preserved Bob Costas will call the track events on NBC; mass audience breakdances not optional.
Beneath all the operatic harmonies and soft-focus prog-isms, there are some ideas about American exceptionalism worthy of discussion, about materialism and arrogance, but it's hard to want to take what sounds like a tune-challenged late-model Of Montreal C-side too seriously in terms of international politics.
Yeah, waterboarding is so 2005, but what of it, dun? The Alchemist shackles Mobb Deep in a Queensbridge dungeon with rats, roaches, and spiders, where Havoc and Prodigy get gully, mean-mugging over a mournful symphony of horns, drips, and sirens.
Despondently dreamy, "Out" is a sensitive introvert's delight—outgoing-voicemail pop for those days when you just wanna lock the door, draw the curtains, and hole up under the couch with a Beat Happening-stocked iPod.
Get cornered by this guy at a party—a leftist buzzkill Debbie Downer type keen to unpack the archeology of your reindeer sweater—and that party's basically over, for you. Does burying his smug tsk-tsk drone under sword-sheathing sounds and acidic noise make it easier to swallow his No Logo medicine? Hard to say.
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