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California producer klwn cat and New York rapper Sunmundi every inhabit the intersection the place the experimental reflection of Ka and Navy Blue collide with the minimal allure of Roc Marciano and Preservation. cat cites Navy and J Dilla as influences on his model, however the beats he’s been making since 2022’s sphynx, vol. 1 have matured past homage, changing into liquid and enveloping. In the meantime, Sunmundi’s circulate, which began out with a strictly metered supply, has slowly loosened to match his melancholic prose, incomes shoutouts from billy woods. After a handful of collaborations, they each emerge with power and expertise to burn on Lived and Born, their first full-length collectively. Right here, they produce and rap like they’re digging themselves out of shallow graves with their enamel.
Lived and Born flirts with concepts of reincarnation and digs by way of Sunmundi’s previous, current, and future to know on the tether between them. However even when the ruminations really feel inescapable, he blazes by way of them with the precision—and triple the urgency—of Lengthy Island rapper-producer Lungs. When, close to the tip of early standout “Capitulation,” he says “Happiness these days simply don’t hit the identical,” the thought is stacked with playground reminiscences, the therapeutic qualities of brown butter pierogies, and a bottomless urge for food for every new chapter of life. “Late-stage capitulation is a motherfuckin’ sonuvabitch!” he says in a single echoing gulp of breath, channeling the time-conscious frenzy of Again to the Future’s Doc Brown. klwn cat’s flutes and delicate drum rolls trill within the background, giving Sunmundi’s phrases the burden of biblical edicts.
That’s the core of the pair’s chemistry: cat’s mournful loops break up the distinction between the gothic horror of Ingmar Bergman and the smoky atmosphere of movie noir, whereas Sunmundi’s bars scurry by way of them, frantic however decided. Over the rumbling bass and violins of “New Pavement,” he’s piecing collectively head-busting aphorisms (“The one solution to make sense of this world was to manufacture it”) whereas struggling to search out the energy to breathe. On the glowing “Answering the Name,” he’s swinging his ft from the spaceship and taking consolation in how a lot he doesn’t know. Sunmundi’s degree of certainty on this planet and in himself shifts from tune to tune—on the bittersweet “All the pieces Is All the pieces,” he switches from hopeful to despondent on a dime—however cat’s soundscapes floor him within the current.
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