Exclusive Rappcats edition of the album, with a unique cover. Limited to 150 hand numbered copies. Each copy comes with a limited edition 12″ with two bonus tracks, their instrumentals and two exclusive Muggs bonus beats. This is the only way to get these tracks on vinyl.
“His flow is ridiculous. To me, he’s like a jazz musician, like Miles Davis. The way he raps, he’ll go totally off-beat then come back on-beat,” Muggs says of Mach-Hommy. “His references – you’ve never heard his references. His rhyme patterns – you’ve never heard them. He flips from English, to Creole, to Spanish, and he evokes that hard, gutter, street shit without having to be like ‘Yo, I’m slangin’ dope, I got the homie that’s the shooter, I’m from the hood.’ It’s mad unorthodox.”
For Mach-Hommy, whose own crackling lo-fi albums sandblast rap into its rawest, roughest form, the admiration is mutual. Comparing Muggs to Albert Einstein, Hommy notes that “DJ Muggs is 30 for 30––the man has been holding it down for three decades, going on four. Now, he doesn’t spend 24 hours per day producing records, but I challenge you to think differently for a minute. What about the subconscious? Albert Einstein had his greatest revelation in a dream. Whether it’s one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of the 20th century, or a sonic composition that it shifts the zeitgeist in its favor for the next 100 years––say what you will, but certain people keep ‘one in the head,’ and to that I relate.”
On Tuez-Les Tous––English translation: “kill ‘em all”––Muggs and Mach-Hommy are a bloody-knuckled tag-team. Here, the full scope of Muggs’ heavy, grimdark oeuvre is on display, with piano and drum loops chasting sinister bass lines into an endlessly dark night. Complemented by Muggs’ black-grey palette, Mach-Hommy seems an apparition cloaked in a rippling, silken Haitian flag––he doesn’t “ride a beat” so much as he floats through its walls, disappearing and reappearing as best he sees fit. On “900k,” a disembodied wail backs Mach-Hommy as he alternates effortlessly between English and Creole, his spectral rhythm entirely his own. It’s a style he honed on 11(!) albums in less than a year, and it’s a style perfected when backed by Muggs’ lysergic dirges.
For Muggs, Tuez-Les Tous is less a coronation than it is a matter of course. Grimy street rap is again in the ascendance, and Muggs’ ongoing run of revelatory projects, aided by an array of fork-tongued guests, has no end in sight.