Pop culture is a roomful of mirrors, which means that there are infinite possibilities for unflattering angles. Plopping hip-hop down inside a space filled with reflective surfaces, the weirdos on Subterranean Hitz 2 (Wordsound WSCD025, 54:10) zero in on the music’s exposed butt, then proceed to talk about it so bad it’s a shame. This disc, like the first in this twisted series, comes across like a more gonzo version of Prince Paul’s Psychoanalysis (What is it?). Which is saying a mouthful, considering how far left of center that disc was. While that disc was the aural equivalent of a b-boy therapy session, this dis#k is pure padded cell hip-hop, the product of some of hip-hop’s most dysfunctional minds. Paul makes an appearance here, as he did on the first Hitz (on One, Check One) but even he can’t match dementia with some of the oddballs that populate this release.
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