With as many write-ups, reviews, and bios as I read on a daily basis, I've grown used to hearing nothing but good shit about bands and being constantly let down. I understand now that what a record label says is usually 120% bullshit, as is 75% of what other people write about the music, including me.

So now, I listen before I read. Ming and FS had resided in my player at home for a few weeks. It was listened to sparingly in gray, sleep- like moments. I moved the disc to work for a full- bore 'phone plugin-- 25 hours of Hell's Kitchen directly wired into my gage- smoked aurora borealis, somewhere between the spreadsheets and the HTML.

For some reason, I was surprised when I dug it. The first time I really sat down with it, I was most immediately reminded of Panacea's hard drum breaks, but that was just during the beginning of the album. As I wrapped around Hell's Kitchen, I began to notice all sorts of funny colored speckles in its wiry fur. Framing this hard- as- hell drum-n-bass is some sweet cross- genre groove that spans the spectrum from populist hip-hop to smoove jazz.

Then I read the Om Records write-up of their band, and damn if it wasn't on tha money. Professing earnestly that their music is "junkyard" hip-hop, I first smirked then read their definition: "the fusion of progressive hip-hop with drum and bass, turntable battle breaks and lush, live instrumentation." My sweat- soaked brain was perplexed. How could press release be true? It went against all I stood for. But, that led to an altogether esoteric inner debate for which this is neither the time nor place.

Ming and FS drop some intense shit, though. I'm listening to "Rock Higher" right now, and if they want to define this level of granite- hard, schizo drum-n-bass as "junkyard," that's cool with me. Still, tempering the most intense, aggressive beats and rhythm breakdowns are delicate, offsetting moments shimmering with a relaxed vibe that might be more at home on a 4AD album than framing hip-hop breaks. It works, though-- the battling beats come on so hard and fast that they almost fall over each other. The onslaught is juxtaposed with '70s jazz and funk melodies. Let's say this: I hear a sitar right now.

I say yes. Yes, baby. Yes, it's a fly album that cuts across barriers and bounces from mellow to harsh and back again with vigor. Yes, their write-up is right, for once. Yes, I'm gonna keep this one, and not sell it back. Yes, you owe me one for lettin' you know.

-James P. Wisdom