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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 / Strident and sophisticated - Grooves / Uniquely promising and satisfying - Stylus |
| cLOUDDEAD is about as hip-hop as Allen Ginsberg in a FUBU jersey. Sure, there are interlocking rhymes and creepy samples from children's records strewn throughout Ten, but this splatter-collage skirts classification. Remove the rapping and it's a nitrous-oxide-addles Boards of Canada record. Strip away the B-movie production and it's a cassette filled with beat poetry. "Rhymer's Only Room" batters the boombox harder than Timbaland, but its seance chorus and stuttering heartbeat is best suited for hearses, not Cadillac Escalades. The Chopsticks piano melody glides beneath "Physics of a Unicycle" but is shattered by a sputtering cap-gun verse. "Son of a Gun" namechecks Gandhi, Biggie and Jesus within a few short breaths. Vocalists Doseone and why? recontextualize rapping as an extension of their own nightmares, which vary from nonsensical to critical to introspective. If there's any stumbling block to enjoying a cLOUDDEAD production, it's the vocals. Your ears will adjust to the nasally highs and whispered lows with time, while odd nosdam's carnival sound of pump organs, kazoos and squealing Muppets smooth out the edges. Easy listening it ain't, but once you get it, it's golden. - Magnet |
