I know what you’re thinking. Can’t these One A Day motherfuckers get on the same page? Like, how hard is it to communicate as two brothers living in the same house, not a stone’s throw away from each other with a phone plan that actually entitles them to call each other for free, a common login for their blog and a supportive family who, if all else fails, would be more then happy to pass on any comments that the two potentially warring lads might have? First, J tells us that Miley Cyrus is actually vacuous pop and that, instead, we should be championing the idiosyncrasies of the esoteric Radiohead. Now, we’ve got his offsider and pretender to the first-born throne, D, telling us the complete opposite. That it’s complex and wonderfully layered, soulful music that should be experienced even by the haters. What the fuck, why should we listen to you, impostor! Because, I implore you, it is complex and wonderfully layered, soulful music that even you should experience. Oh.
Old Miles cops a fair bit of flak these days. What, from deciding to rap the eulogy to her twitter account to clogging our airwaves incessantly with that banal song about mountain climbing (like a young Celine Dion but more of an irritation – if that was possible) and TV guide with her incessantly banal Hannah Montana (as if Miley Cyrus wasn’t cookey enough – PS. I do get around to watching quite a bit of this show care of sister Z and lazy Saturday mornings) the girl who posed, controversially (and, again, somewhat banally) seems to be everywhere and anywhere at the same time, always popping up when you least expect and desire her to. But here, perchance, is one instance of Cyrism that is (run with me here) palatable and even (it’s a stretch, I know) enjoyable.
And it all comes courtesy of a DJ by the name of Hathbanger. Also known as Andrew Hathaway of Vermont, Hathbanger divides up his time (according to a highly illuminating Twitter page – seems the Cyrus effect was stymied there) between skiing and DJing. Strange mix. What’s stranger is that poor old, dead, Biggy gets wheeled out again to play second fiddle. Yes, the man was a colossus of the rap world (status and stature alike) but is it fair to bring him on as an unwitting substitute in every second posthumous mash-up created? In most cases, I’d say no. Here, Cyrus’ production team have done so well at fashioning a rad beat that Smalls doesn’t actually sound like the musical equivalent of a third wheel when the two others start going at it on a park bench for once. Which is a good thing. Take it from me. Or J. Whatever works.
Notorious B.I.G and Miley Cyrus – Party And Bullshit In The USA