Get Bent with the Beastie Boys' Hot Sauce Committee, Part 2

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This week: Get bent with the Beastie Boys' Hot Sauce Committee, Part 2 (Explicit)


Behind the buzz: There are weeks when the choice for audio bongload is obvious, and this is one such. The censor-approved "clean" version of the new Beasties' album was prematurely released onto the Internet, leaving our creaky (and cranky) trio to stream the explicit version in its entirety. Reviewers are treating this release like a boardroom statement from yet another Reagan Age corporate enterprise; something worth heeding if not particularly comprehensible on its merits. Release delayed from 2009 because of MCA's battle with cancer, this is the Beasties coming to grips with an enviable legacy by creating more of the same.

Today's dope: The last remaining flakes of last week's DJ Short's Blueberry Kush, hoarded and toked for this august occasion.

Hot Sauce Committee Part Two by Beastie Boys

For those about to rock: As worthy as anything off their 2005 Best Of, "Make Some Noise" is vintage call-and-response rawkus from Ad-Rock, MCA, and Ad-Rock going through their paces with all the anarchic assurance of the Marx Brothers clambering out of each other's pockets. "Nonstop Disco Powerpack" is a chimes-at-midnight hip-hop reverie, its smoky and muted after-hours vibe yet another example of the Boys' much-admired skill at shifting mood and tempo. Despite geezer references like "Be kind, rewind," "OK" is au courant as fuck, its snaky New Wave beats dialing the frantic back up. "Too Many Rappers [New Reactionaries]" is an archly old-school (if not hyper-Tory) fulmination on the state of hip-hop, with its bulging cargo of rats and hacks, with guest star Nas appearing for the prosecution. "Say It" is full-on furioso rant in the doomy Ill Communication manner. "Don't Play No Game I Can't Win" drops Dylan references and reggae beats, with Santigold contributing to this series of epically jazzy funkscapes. "Long Burn the Fire" is another self-inflating helium parable with asides like "I got tiger's claws that will scratch your dick" tossed off like wisecracks out of Bill Burroughs. "Funky Donkey" and "Tadlock's Glasses" wouldn't sound out of place on any of their post-Paul's Boutique albums.

We salute you: The one-two punch of a crashing feedback rocker like "Lee Majors Come Again" and the slow-burning deep funk of "Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament" ought to be enough to table any questions of how "relevant" these guys still are. Music this accomplished so far into the Boys' bullshitting and signifying career indicates the distance they've yet to go- all the way to gangsta geezerdom on the Straw Gat circuit.

Psychoactive verdict: Worth saving the last few grains of your choicest.

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Their 2005 best of comp is called Solid Gold Hits and Yauch is not saying "I got tiger's claws that will scratch your dick" but "I got tiger's claws that will scratch you DEAD"

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