Marten Cardona

I don't hide my affinity for instrumental music. So often I fall in love with a band or producer and the second the vocals hit I'm pissed.

WHY WOULD YOU RUIN YOUR AWESOME BY OPENING YOUR MOUTH HOLE?

Instrumental music has kept me sane over the past fifteen or so years by allowing me to paint my own picture of what is being described with instrumentation, samples, rhythm and the occasional wicky wicky. Instrumental hip hop is my choosing the book over the movie.

I prefer my own interpretation of anything over 80% of the time, and the same is true for amazing instrumental music. If it's sans vocals, I will gravitate towards that more often than not. Let me write my own story, feel my own feels, don't describe what only I can describe because as much as I ain't in your chaclas, you ain't in my chaclas cabron. Muevelo muevelo.

Some dude named Marten Cardona (which sounds like a cigar company) sent in his instrumental album titled Black last month. Ever since this fucker came on the manpod I've been playing it when I find it would help the most. Normally the moments that deserve to be soundtracked are the most mundane. The late night shower for no other reason than you want some liquids cascading over your luscious non-lady lumps, the backyard bonfire that won't stay lit so you just sit in the smokey darkness, the first five minutes into a drive lasting longer than five minutes, okay basically any time is a perfect time to make life like a movie.

Marten Cardona's Black makes life like a movie. A movie where you aren't chided for wearing that fedora with flip flops and socks, or for wearing a sleeveless hooded sweatshirt, or for huffing pine scented Glade after Valentine's Day bro.

Black is insanely relaxing, yet still filled with those potential urban chases scenes only you can direct all up in your noggin. The track "Beaux Herbes" actually plays out like the chase scene from Ronin, but instead of leather jackets and frowns, all these dudes are wearing crossfit tshirts and swilling Progenex, BUT THEY'RE ALL ON OPIUM BRO.

I love albums like this. They're like the Apple products of the instrumental music world in that they just work.

This past weekend I put three albums on shuffle: Maker's Shooting the Breeze, Dante Carfagna's Express Rising and Marten Cardona's Black. At no point during the entire afternoon did I need to fast forward a track. I did, however, start Train Till Nowhere from Maker over a few times, but Fuck you bro.

Whoever Marten Cardona is, I've already placed him in that category where Maker and Dante Carfagna and Emancipator sit cross legged and passing pipes filled with the dreams of every other person sitting cross legged and passing pipes around. 

Marten Cardona, brodona.