The Roots’ eleventh album has been criticised in some corners for it’s lack of content, with some complaining that its 34 minutes and maybe 8/9 true songs constitutes something of a cop-out. It seems that hip hop artists can’t win- produce a 28 track behemoth including no less that 12 skits about your voyage to Burton’s to cheekily change back the trousers you soiled yourself in the night before and we complain about the ridiculous excesses of the art form and ask why can they not simply be a little more harsh with their editing (track 18 Attikus Funk Be-Donk-A-Donk ft. The Wheezy & Sickly Geoffrey should really go for a start) yet when the brilliantly succinct and wonderfully named ‘…And Then You Shoot Your Cousin’ arrives we complain that it should be longer. What a World. The album is certainly not perfect (try not to cringe when The Roots go off on one of their trademark toe-curlingly self-important sermons in The Devil, go on I dare you) but the highlights are so high that it can’t fail to be one of the year’s best listens.
You’re fixed with an angrily accusing glare.
Some guy just turned up and completely Picassonated the two of them and you saw the whole thing.
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