There will always be a subset of Aesop Rock’s cult following that prefers his earlier music on Def Jux when he was working almost exclusively with Blockhead. Personally, though, I’ve found everything he’s released since his move to Rhymesayers to be way more compelling. Late-career Aesop Rock has allowed himself to become more human on the mic, injecting humor, confession, and, most importantly, specificity into his projects. With how unbelievably dense and cryptic he can be, the salience of a subject in his more recent endeavors has, if not blown them open, left the doors to understanding his lyrics slightly ajar. Even though you may not catch every, or many, of his tangled references, knowing that at the core of this Gordian knot lies a discernable idea, experience, or object tethers you to the whirlwind.

This clarity was most apparent on his last solo album, The Impossible Kid, for which he earned substantial critical praise, but it was present, although inchoate, on Skelethon as well, where he rapped about mummifying a cat, Bob’s Donuts in San Francisco, and refusing to eat vegetables when he was young. The Tom O’Bedlam character from King Lear comes to mind; Edgar masquerading as a deranged vagrant in order to cover his true identity from those that may hurt him. The last decade has seen Aesop Rock slowly emerge from a protective shell of obfuscation, still a bit mad, but more accessible than ever.

Malibu Ken takes a step back from the emotional weight of TIK, putting Aes’s dark humor and hip-hop roots in the spotlight, and it’s his most successful collaboration to date by leaps and bounds (with an exception of Bestiary by Hail Mary Mallon maybe giving it a run for its money). Regarding Tobacco’s contribution, think less “producer” and more “living pile of analog synths, Betamaxes, and discarded Atari cartridges.” The man, known best for his work with Black Moth Super Rainbow, is a maestro of queasy, vintage electronica, and his personality shines just as bright on the record as his rapping comrade. From the twinkling blips of chiptune over a static-laden bassline on “Corn Maze” to the vocoded hook on “Suicide Big Gulp,” he sets the project in a glimmering, 8-bit purgatory.

The album hits its stride when the two artists are playing to each other’s strengths: Tobacco amplifying the metallic rustle of Aesop’s voice and cadence, and Aesop letting the flickering neon of Tobacco’s production to swell and take up space on the songs. I’d say this happens on about three quarters of the tracks, but on “Save Our Ship” and “1+1=13” it didn’t seem like they were able to connect in the way they needed to. The rest of the album, though, is inspired.

It’s really nice to watch Aesop Rock be as weird as he wants to be, and on Malibu Ken, it seems like he’s having a blast throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks. “Acid King,” the first single released from the album, recounts the killing of Gary Lauwers by Ricky Kasso, the “Acid King” of North Port. Aesop weaves the story in his usual circuitous way, making sure to establish a sense of time and place through a litany of references. “Same year Bowie dropped / Two horns hatched and matured to gore Northport’s ’84 / Here is ’84: Mary Lou Retton, Excitebike, AIDS, Jeopardy!” Another standout is “Churro,” which is simply about the time two bald eagles ate a cat on a live stream, with Aesop contemplating both the conservational and brutalist implications of the relationship between humans and the natural world. Aesop has always been funny, but this is perhaps him at his most overtly hilarious:

You could be sitting in your office feelin’ testy

Spilling coffee on a spreadsheet

Thinking “Jesus Christ, my life is dismal”

Two seconds later, you could stare into a portal

That reminds you there is more

Than what your awful nine-to-five permits you

. . . I wonder if some dude was sad because his cat had run away

And thought, “Maybe I’ll load these eagles up to feel connected”

Then got to watch his little Fluffy torn to pieces by the very nature

He had sought to ease him through his deep depression

We also see him returning to his roots as a fundamentally good rapper on “Suicide Big Gulp,” which is as straightforward of a boom-bap track as you can get on a collab between an experimental electronica artist and the king of esoteric lyricism. The beat is funky, slapping with chunky bass-synths, and breaks open into a dream pop hook, replete with a robotic chorus rising above a sinewy string section. Aesop makes it clear that he is here for the sole purpose of talking shit, but of course, his brand of shit-talking is different than the standard lines of bravado that you can expect from other artists: “Ill communication aside / I’ll kick a train off a bridge, / I’ll smack a plane out the sky/ I’ll throw a car into the ocean, no one waving goodbye.”

For anyone looking for a spiritual successor to TIK, you are going to have to wait a bit longer, presumably until Aes’s next solo release. Malibu Ken is more of a worthy detour for two independent artists with successful solo careers. It feels like Tobacco and Aesop, who have been friends and infrequent collaborators for over a decade, were trying to figure out what to do over their summer vacations and landed on making some crazy songs together. This does nothing to diminish how great the album is, though. Beneath the kitschy, one-off, fun of it all lies a sound, unlike anything I’ve heard before. So give it a listen, and remember: “If a silhouetted man is seen emerging from the flames / You should probably treat him different even if he looks the same.”









Author Details Jordan Ranft Author Jordan Ranft is a California Bay Area native. His poetry has appeared in ‘Rust+Moth,’ ‘Midway,’ ‘(b)oink,’ and here. He has worked as an arts/culture and music writer for The East Bay Express, Sacramento News & Review, and Brokeassstuart.com. He’s at a point in his life where a lot of his favorite musicians are also his friends. It is delightful. Follow him on twitter, or don’t.

