[BeastieCxAceHitter]: cabrone bars and bass from the underworld

 

Ace Hitter is an MC from Morelia and Beastie C a producer from Hidalgo, and they’ve just released a depressed and powdered up album with a bad attitude which is the fruition of the recent alliance between the Netlabels OSUK and Raccoonin Records, from Coahuila and CDMX respectively.

 

Both artists share a background of prolific works and participation within the mexican undergound hip-hop and electronica scenes. Beastie C – a.k.a. Jorge LC – has been producing beats and mastering mixes for a while, be it for his label – the organizers of the renown Mapachanga parties – or in collaboration with the WOS (We Only Share) Collective: his tracks oscillate between your basic, run-o-the-mill instrumental hip hop and others with a bit of a schizophrenic tilt which beg for the word “conceptual”, like a David Lynch film where the characters are Barbie dolls with their eyes poked out wearing ghetto attire. Likewise, Ace has been throwing rhymes on the lifestyle of the rapper (or perhaps that of any second millenium human): being hella depped, burning a bit of that kush or crushing their septum with talcum, with a pinch of hilarious, criminally insane Dragon Ball Z  samples.

 

The friends realized that there was a horrible vacuum in hip hop: this empty region laid between the much beloved “I reload my semi-automatic” sample, with its endearing crck-chk, and the school of humanities’ lessons about “the death of man”, structuralism and Foucault’s fugue of the subject.
There appeared to be two things: as the boys from the Maras were drawing pretty tattoos on their faces as they dropped cut heads on the sidewalks, people in the academy discussed Baudrillard and an assortment of things too darn interesting that have opened doors (and spread legs) for many, as they sit on barstool in idle chitchat with a gathering of university students. 

 

 

So it was that the producer and the emcee decided to obliterate this gap between worlds. It will suffice to listen to their track “Kingdom” to paint a picture:

 


… my fucking flesh so fresh, dime carnicero, lo primero que me dicta el cerebro,
sencillito papi, si eso es lo que quiero, si el cerebro dicta al perro entonces yo soy Canserbero.

 

Estoy emputado y no sé por qué,
tengo que trabajar y no sé por qué,
vine al mundo a parar y no sé por qué,
voy a jalar el gatillo like Kurt Cobain,
neta a veces muy harto y no sé por qué,
he probado el asfalto y ni sé por qué…

 

Lyrics translation:
Call me “butcher”, the first thing to pop on my brain,
it’s easy, daddy-o, if this what I want,
if the brain says “to the dogs” I’m Cerberus.
I’m pissed off and I don’t know why
I’ve to go to work and I don’t know why
I was ditched in this world and I don’t know why,
I’mma pull my trig like Kurt cobain,
truth be told, sometimes (I’m) so done and I don’t know why,
I’ve tasted the asphalt and I don’t even know why…

 

 

To be a 20yrold in latin america is a bit like so: traversing streets and cities, traversing a pensum of studies and agglutinate all of it, mixing these parallel worlds together with our sullenness and  faltering enthusiasm, as we remember the music which dazzled us just a few years ago, when we were younger and Soundcloud hadn’t reared its head and pirate downloads seemed undefeatable. Looking for “our own kingdom”.