Thursday, September 10, 2015
Typical Cats | Zulu | Official Music Video
Typical Cats, fabled phantoms of Chicago’s fertile underground, after recently dropping the third full-length of their critically acclaimed oeuvre, one which many fans feared would be their last, return with a treasure from the vaults, a “lost” record that has flecks of classic songcraft imbedded in its recombinant DNA. Cooked up by producer extraordinaire DJ Natural, with additional spice and marinade by invisible wunderkind Big Danny S, “Zulu” sounds like a 45 spinning in a jukebox blaring from a corner bar that never existed. The all-important signature knocking drums are there, bassline like an insistent heartbeat anchoring swirling organ and skritchy guitar riffs that underpin an off-kilter apocalyptic travelogue wrapped in sun-drenched melody. “Meet me in the lion’s den,” denizen kane intones, in a clipped, gravelly tenor, jumping from death threats for the oppressor to survival advice for those in Babylonian exile, bursting into clean, limpid, legato lines as the beat blooms into Afropop territory. “I’ve seen the miles that stretch their arms and legs along the open dial. I’ve become an orphan son of the open road like a highway child.” Allegedly penned during TC’s 3 Tour (a beautiful, chaotic affair that involved a fistfight with New Mexico police and at least 2 UFO sightings) and recorded at Qwa’s California compound (since decommissioned), “Zulu” is a top 40 single from an alternative reality, a lost-found classic for AM radio in a parallel universe, coming to you now from the border between fact and fiction, complete with a short film treatment directed by Cali renaissance man José Vadi (award-winning playwright, interplanetary poet-at-large, Youth Speaks scion, Bigger Picture custos, Off/Page chieftan, and never-ending Vadi Party curador). Shot in beautiful black and white, featuring the iconic visages of MC K-Swift (Universal Zulu Nation, New Rap Order) and Drow Flow, the film is a painting within a painting, a stone in the oppressor’s shoe, a transistor humming amidst the fall of a digital Babel. Attune your dial to the TC and see.