Review Summary: Track-by-track review
1. Chain User
is a new song by Philadelphia-based auteur Material Girl, whose respective ventures into sound collage, jungle-infused grief rap, and post-genre apocalypse have inspired a colourful spectrum of opinions and discussion over the past few years. His impeccable ear as a sampler has given him a clear edge over the terminally online pan-genre literati his target audience are likely tuned into, and he's seen off occasionally questionable vocal choices through sheer emotional conviction (but make no mistake, this a producer who raps and not the other way round). Frustrating as
some of his work can be – I am still trying to work out how I feel about the arcane chopping and changing that ran through year's
Izumi Hazuki End of Days – Material Girl channels almost mystically compelling in a way that makes me sympathetic even to his most perplexing decisions. 2022's
i85mixx21-22 was a one-in-a-million ray of something ineffable and precious that slipped through the cracks of net-addled cynicism, unapologetically overblown vocal antics and weighty emotional baggage, landing right at the heart of whatever it is that ultimately sustains my faith in music and snagging the tangential accolade of my favourite production job of the decade. Thanks in particular to that record and also his debut
Tangram (perhaps the most convincing brush with the oneiric hip hop has seen since cLOUDDEAD's self-titled in 2001), I consider him a truly special artist; each time around, I allow him to get my hopes up, enjoying both the horizons he shatters against the plane of his imagination, and the minor disappointments that come when he doesn't cater to my preferences or expectations. Worthwhile artists should incur a little emotional labour at the prospect of their new output, and so I was nervous and ultimately relieved to see that
1. Chain User
sees Material Girl refine his palette somewhat from the absurd amount of breadth he added to it on
Izumi Hazuki…, setting out a 15-minute mini-opus that devotes two loose halves to two distinct arms of his craft. The former is a sample-heavy collage that flits through glitched-out rap verses (selectively unintelligible, much to their charm) before coming to a head in a wash of assorted vocals; the latter is an extended foray into post-rock that sees him flesh out a more cohesive setting for the rock instrumentation he recorded for
Izumi Hazuki…. Unsurprisingly, the former half in particular packs enough fleeting contours to graze every line in your palm twice over, but the overall effect is considerably less jagged and cathartic than Material Girl's past two outings. This track is cleansing in a capacity his previous output only touched on, and its twin peaks are the points where it feels most at peace with itself: the vocal climax that rounds off the first half is a disarmingly stirring moment of harmony between anime samples and Material Girl's original recordings (both heavily modulated), while the second half wisely declines a mawkish crescendo and instead comes to rest in a steady, rolling breakbeat. Earth-shattering denouements these two points may not be, but
1. Chain User
's warmth, whimsy and nostalgia are delicate enough to benefit from a lighter touch: Material Girl does well to avoid amplifying any of these elements beyond its natural limits, and instead uses the song's generous confines to give its sentimental qualities time and space to seep through. The upshot is far from his most immediate outing, but it's reaffirming to hear him sound this streamlined and collected, and the appeal of an epic keener to lay its emotional weight to rest than to blast off with it gradually reinforces itself across successive listens. In its way,
1. Chain User
packs as much heart as anything Material Girl has made, and it's a welcome addition to his catalogue. Get hit!
