Busdriver

I've loved Busdriver's music for at least a decade now. Probably longer. From the dreadlocked man of two microphones spinning syllabic backslaps and neck cracks. To the statesman for all the rap your girlfriend hates. And I still somehow don't ever know 100% what to say about him without picturing him rolling his eyes hard should he read what I wrote.

But here goes: 

Busdriver has evolved. Become somehow more than he's ever been. He feels like the glue to me. He's somehow secretly the key to holding everything that is good about the craft of rap music together. Busdriver is a large chunk of the derivative soul of Los Angeles rap music. Not just a chunk of the soul. That makes his significance seems waning. 

I mean to express that sentiment's opposite. Busdriver's significance grows. Organically. He's like the latest of late bloomers. He's just so dope we all thought he'd already blossomed. Busdriver's music is getting more important. More urgent. Less densely phrased and more densely worded. There's a David Foster Wallacian essence to every sentence and its importance to the song. 

You don't get that kind of craft out of everyday rap dude's 15 minute set at shit bar central. It's why I don't go to those things anymore. GO SEE BUS! Go see him sweat and turn-inward only to exude that back at you in high-frequency waves of hip hop harmony! It's why whenever I see Busdriver I always say hi, even though you couldn't get two more awkwardly social men together if you tried. But he's done things to my ears. Busdriver is my fucking Ornette Coleman. 

My rap jazz dad hero.