This shit is vacuum-packed. Hip hop gone hyper-hygienic. Beans’ second solo album is so wakeful, so linear, so shiny and sharp that Computer World-era Kraftwerk might seem sloppy by comparison. It should be marketed not as a CD but as a chip that the listener inserts directly into the brain. Once in, a tiny hatch would open on the surface of the chip, spreading self-replicating nanomachines throughout the listener’s body, systematically replacing all traces of humanity. Here comes the science bit. There goes the science bit. You were too slow. Stupid skin-thing!
The “new flesh”? Pah! All flesh is outmoded in the Beans manifesto. When he commands you to “wave your hands in the air like this” he isn’t inviting you to the dance; he’s cruelly mocking your woefully inadequate response to his superior skills. Shock City Maverick is a 13-point programme to turn us all into gleaming, tireless, hyperintelligent androids, just like Beans. And I, for one, welcome its clinical embrace.
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This shit is vacuum-packed. Hip hop gone hyper-hygienic. Beans’ second solo album is so wakeful, so linear, so shiny and sharp that Computer World-era Kraftwerk might seem sloppy by comparison. It should be marketed not as a CD but as a chip that the listener inserts directly into the brain. Once in, a tiny hatch would open on the surface of the chip, spreading self-replicating nanomachines throughout the listener’s body, systematically replacing all traces of humanity. Here comes the science bit. There goes the science bit. You were too slow. Stupid skin-thing!
