Asphate

As a guy who has spent the majority of his life in the Chicago area, Chicago is important to me. From the food, to the streets, to the people, to the people who make the food on the streets, there is nothing Chicago offers (yes, besides the violence, political ass fucking, constant fear of tornadoes, taxes, potholes, White Sox fans, construction and Cubs fans) I don't love.

My ears have been especially spoiled over the last two decades, as friends of mine have released such fucking amazing music if I hit play on a "homies only" playlist the fucker would play for six goddamn days, babies would be conceived, walls would crumble, and we would toast a life well spent with overflowing mugs filled with delicious horchata.

Chicago's sounds are as much a part of the city, to me, as the "chicken" wings at the Chicago Grill or the Samurai tacos at Big & Littles, and between Molemen and Galapagos4 Records, I've spent the last twenty years both fat and happy.

Knowing that I both trust Galapagos4 and love anything produced by Maker, I took the latest from Des Moines native Asphate on a 75 minute drive and spent 10 of those minutes listening to one song in particular almost five times.

The track "Meticulously Made" is the entire summer of 2003 in a fucking nutshell and I can't stop duck facing while bobbing and weaving the neck.

Asphate has this whole stoned Mos Def driving a happily stoned Mr. Lif thing going on, it's half relaxing half exciting. Never taking himself out of third gear, Asphate takes every beat and seems to ghost ride it while skipping alongside an idling Caprice with a mere pinky steering the 4300lb vehicle. The fact that Maker's beats are as much of a voice as Asphate's all throughout Closed Doors To An Open Mind is an honest indication that beat freaks like me will fucking adore the entire fucking album.

Maker fucking murders this, sounding half summer and half thunderstorm. Seriously, "Silences Slight" feels like three bong rips and a Mickey's grenade on a sundrenched northside third floor deck it's so goddamn hip swayin' and cheesefaced grinnin'. And all throughout this album, G4 gifts us complete Maker instrumentals that are 75% more "I'm taking my clothes off" than the entirety of Shooting the Breeze, and it's not only welcome, I'm seriously considering writing a fucking Thank You note to these bastards for dropping such a welcome Chicago summer album. Regardless of the fact that Asphate seems to be an Iowan, his Midwestern dong stretches 332 miles, making him an honorary Chicagoan by association, penis length and skill level.

In addition to the raps and the beats, the ending of "Pipe Dreams" at 4:49 is probably the funniest outro of any instrumental track in the history of instrumental tracks. Seriously, what the Fuck is that shit from? Why can't I stop saying "yea we can go out"?

With guest verses from the adorably intellectual Qwel, the mad at the world Hellsent, and the I AM THROWING ALL OF THE WORDS OUT OF MY MOUTH IN A CADENCE THAT WILL ONLY BE FULLY APPRECIATED 30 YEARS FROM NOW Qwazaar, Asphate has no room to fail on this shit. If dude's solo tracks sucked it would be a blatant fumble of the perfect handoff, but having murdered this shit perfectly, I'm looking forward to seeing Asphate's records stored on the same shelf as the guests on this first album of his.

Chicago AND Des Moines should be eating elotes to this shit for the next five months, easy.