Whereas the work of sociologists attempts to prove that the influence of community (group interactions, education and what have you) helps to increase the civility of the individual, isolated troublemakers have taken over the mic to give a voice to disorder and mark the regression of spirits. These disturbing folks answer to the sweet name of 5 Headed R-Tard, characters at first approach just a bit curious, but in actuality completely repugnant and sexually perverse. It’s only natural that they would land into the hands of Low Pressure, the Canadian label where discrepancy and lack of seriousness are the most predominant artistic guiding lines.
Secretly adored in scatological sects, considered demigods by the little puppeteers from The Real World, Loft Story & Co., 5-Headed R-Tard personalizes that myth of the universal idiocy that awaited the backpackers community as they barely go beyond a 3 IQ. Abusing all the rap clichés and jargon, the members of this traveling gang-bang, who en route are sure to jack their voices up to the highest registers, find themselves subjects for a discussion that will only please those spotty egocentric misogynists eager for trashy sexual experiences. Each track makes a complete mockery of rap’s, even of American culture’s grand icons, when the somberly named Head #1, #2, #3, #4 and #5 aren’t talking sex or speaking highly of their absurd experiences, that is.
The production is the spitting image of its creators, childish and inane music… but perfectly mastered by a certain Downslindrum (could this be DJ Moves?). This fellow doesn’t seem to use a whole lot of raw material to put his tracks together, but his simple compositions do surprise by their communicative energy, it’s only ‘Real Life’ with its very “DJ Moves-ish” loops, and in a lesser measure ‘Gas Owls’ and its obnoxious beat, that bore the listener in the long run. Downslindrum brings plenty to the table to eat and drink as well as to amaze the pseudo-lovers of specialized rap, and infringe on those more simplistic or “subtle” producers.
This depraved person’s album shall delight the intellectual backpackers too, already passed right on to the analysis of the texts that, in their opinion, go down in the history of profound and intimate hip-hop. As for everyone else, please don’t look for coherence in each track unless you’re looking to destroy that beautiful friendship that is supposed to exist between your two neurons; stick with the drugs that put a nice smile on your face if you want to put the old brain on “off”; too much work to digest the content of this disc.
Conclusion for those who haven’t caught anything: you are a guy, you don’t understand shit about the news on television (and in any case you can’t do anything about it), but fuck, it’s so tight to have the game on right after. You like alcohol because it makes you feel big against your adversary, him too equipped with his bottle, at the other end of the table. You think you’ve got the whole “women” mystery figured out. You recognize how hard it is to resist your legendary charm. Guess what? This disc is for you, my friend. A little variation for the female species: you’re a female, you think that your handbag holds all the greatest sciences to man (to only name a few, the lipstick and the other cover-ups of your ugliness). You like to make yourself heard, but even if your listener (or “victim”) doesn’t at all get it, it’s not important since none of your topics are interesting. You love being wanted by men, since it gets both respect and fear from your girlfriends. You know how hard it is to resist your unfaltering seductiveness. Guess what? This disc is for you, girl.
Translated by motiv8