If you don't find yourself compelled to hunt down Andy Bothwell and beat his head in after the first few minutes of "Short Term Memory Loss," his professed desire "to become the Bob Dylan of this rap shit" might seal the deal. A more thorough surfing of the tracks yields speed-rhymes gainfully employed as drone undercurrents in "Seaweed Sheets," whereupon things get nervously poignant, and just like that, honky-rap gets one more life.
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