Falside

Falside is the dude in your group of friends that you have no idea what the Fuck he's up to, as he doesn't share much about his personal life, but then one day you're flipping through the newspaper on the shitter and he's won some hundred thousand dollar prize for those wooden ships you fit inside glass bottles and shit. He isn't out there bragging about his accomplishments, or that he managed to not only craft a custom clipper ship out of teak and match sticks, but he was able to replicate the fleur de li topped with a dollop of minced horseradish of Sir Winston Manichevitz's 1528 AD family crest on the masthead of said ship.

Unassuming, but talented as shit.

Falside is an asshole in that regard.

He's part of the same group of friends that brings you Juan Deuce and F. Virtue tunes, and his good buddy/squash partner is former SYFFAL contributor/current NoYourCity creator Nicolas Heller. He might be surrounded by outgoingly talented people, but this muthafucker is silently creating some of the smoothest sinterludes this side of the internet.

Rather than producing beats and releasing them as full length songs, Falside takes his creations to his own cock ruler and lets them end up however they end up. What does that mean for me bro? IT MEANS I DON'T HAVE TO SIT THROUGH FOUR MINUTES OF 16 BARS COPIED AND PASTED END TO END. It means Falside's beats are consistently watered, given sunlight and tended to, and there isn't any room for monotony because the dude lets his beats finish so he can move on to the next one.

There isn't a track longer than 2:51 on End of an Error, and while some might think "THEN WHAT'S THE POINT BRUH?", I can assure you those people are shitheads and deserve top 40 radio. Brief does not equate to having less value sir.

The bangers on Falside's latest beatsexual romp are dynamically shiny, shimmy shimmy shoulder bouncey and at just about thirteen minutes, End of an Error contains some of the slickest in and out satisfaction since the last time you masturbated to a Brazzer's video trailer.

The track "Sins of Youth" was privy to my own interpretive dance number where I emerged from an imagined horse's vagina and proceeded to have a mime battle with the sun as it sinks lower and lower into the horizon, and once the sun went down down baby yo' street in a range rover, I unbirthed myself back into myself as a cocoon of what myself would look like as a human brocoon covered in the afterbirth of a brown and white spotted mare.

If you're in the market for beats that are perfect to walk, drive or travel to, but won't drive you to boredom, but COULD drive you to Del Taco, I recommend any of Falside's previous EPs. But if you're into self lubrication and pantomime twerk videos, go snag End of an Error.

Seriously. Snag the fucker. Snagging you are. And snagging you will be.