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MH-230 cLOUDDEAD - Ten  Ten finds cLOUDDEAD building on all of the elements that defined their debut: razor sharp vocal interplay, quirky found sound samples, ambient drone dreamscapes, lyrics that walk the line between observational and confessional, and a fair share of nosdam drums slowed to a growl. Doseone and why? never take the cheap way out. Their lyrics may range from blurry and buried to sharp and surfaced, but each and every line has meaning. The music and production are collaborative, featuring Doseone's knack for bottling emotion, why's self-taught multi-instrumentalist efforts, and odd nosdam's flair for borrowed genius. Individually, Doseone, why? and odd nosdam are as prolific and fearless as anyone in today's new music scene, but together as cLOUDDEAD they are able to create music that captures all of the promise of their individual talents in an unequaled sound. |
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| Reviews Summary |
| All must hail - BBC / A brilliant swan song - CMJ / Genuinely Original - Uncut / Catchy and sublime - Under The Radar / Unquestionably, cLOUDDEAD have arrived - Pitchfork / It’s golden - Magnet / Original and eccentric - Alarm / Its merits are aplenty and deep - Flyer / Original and eccentric - Alarm / Strident and sophisticated - Grooves / Uniquely promising and satisfying - Stylus |
| Forget Ja Rule; if you're seeking the most hated man in hip-hop, look no further than Doseone. With their obtuse poetics and lo-fi symphonies, Dose and Anticon cohorts why? and odd nosdam are redrawing the rules of rap - whether you like it or not. For its sophomore album, cLOUDDEAD reemerge from a land where rhymes reside peacefully alongside indie-rock melodies and fey folktronic accents. Sifting through the rubble of collapsed genres, the trio unearths a handful of precious gems, furnishing "Dead Dogs Two" with snippets of funereal organ, clip-clop percussion and their own plaintive vocal harmonies. Elsewhere, "Rhymer's Only Room" gives us an idea what drunken Gregorian chanters might sound like while "The Velvet Ant" finds Dose relating a run-on fable about barnyard animals. Closer in spirit to Matmos' The Civil War than to any rap record, Ten dares you to drop your backpack and let your inner child out to play. Last one to the seesaw's a rotten egg. - Urb |
