Fluorescent Black

We Say...

Review by Matthew Fritch

When we last heard from Antipop Consortium, the trio of Brooklyn-based MCs were lock-stepping into the sunset amid the krautrock-laced rhythms of "Human Shield," the finale of 2002's Arrhythmia and perhaps the group's most accomplished track. The three vocalists — M. Sayyid, High Priest and Beans — were in perfect balance, with each member's distinctive delivery ratcheting up the intensity as producer Earl Blaize's minimal beats grew more insistent and powerful. Given the track's theme of I-got-your-back solidarity, it was an appropriate end to Antipop's brief but brilliant first act, one that saw the group rise from poetry-slam origins and self-released cassettes to being hand-picked openers for a Radiohead tour and earning respect from nascent backpacker rap and avant-garde jazz quarters alike. Antipop called it quits after Arrhythmia, but the subsequent solo efforts only reinforced the old saw about the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Beans' machine-gun monotone proved to be ice-cold over the course of a full-length; High Priest's low, gruff vocals couldn't sustain the necessary energy; Sayyid (who released an album with Priest as Airborn Audio) didn't have sufficient counterpoint to his fluid, spitfire style.

Fluorescent Black announces Antipop's return with an opening flurry of Vernon Reid-esque six-string shredding (Sayyid has a history of collaboration with the Living Colour guitarist), but it quickly picks up where Arrhythmia left off, with vamping synths and glitched-up electro beats. This reunion seems more an act of self-preservation than a newfound vision, so it's not surprising that the first few tracks seek to re-establish a reputation; to paraphrase High Priest on "New Jack Exterminator," it isn't easy out there with so many younguns grinding on you. What makes Antipop's bravado appealing is its lyrical abstraction: "Dow Jones maneuverin', King Kong I'm losin' him, Bloomberg pursuin' 'em," spits Sayyid by way of extolling his own gifts. So the gang is back together — now what? Sayyid turns in a cohesive narrative with "Shine," the tale of a hotshot Harlem painter who rips off wealthy Russian art collectors and is later gunned down at a gallery opening, while "Volcano" is a fun, funk-inflected stomp that's as "pop" as Antipop gets. Over the course of 17 tracks, Fluorescent Black gets consistently weirder and Tron-like, its loops and samples inducing future-shocked vertigo. "Apparently" is only a couple bits away from the chiptune genre, and you might hear the sound of a Galaga spaceship firing its missiles on "Capricorn One." The closing title track descends even further into sci-fi madness, its maelstrom of digital bleeps approximating a digitized batcave. Whatever the reason for the group's initial split, Fluorescent Black is ample evidence that Antipop Consortium is fully recharged and again ready to experiment in the far-out frontiers of hip hop.