The masses define who we are; either we share the same glare or push through to dare an nonconformist pursuit in a life of "Garanimal" functionless style and copy cat artistic taste.
There was a time not long ago when ƒresh was dope and biting was something to lose your teeth over - now we're all in the same boygirlraprockharleydavidsonben&jerry gang (?) tattoo shirts schoolboy glasses reebok pumps (still fucking ugly) skinny jeans skateboard - woah! could somebody please call it like it is - biting! perpetrating! it's like living in Compton and wearing a rainbow jumpsuit just to play it safe... hell no! for some the fusion is natural, but when the fusion becomes a cookie cut of style then the "natural ones" evolve far away (naturally) - the "new style" is the old style, not even the fresh aspect but the "back in the day was wack aspect" (wasn't Kwame {polka dots} the last mother fucker to rock "school boy" glasses?)
hey I love all of us - but for those of us who aren't the 12,677,886 member of the cool kids, or in Kid Cudi's global entourage: Fucking A right man (and lady) stay crisp!
Generate, synonymous with create, evolve, originate, engender, institute. Generation is the action of the aforementioned - also Generation means a group of individuals belonging to the same set of ideas, principles and problems (30 year span) . It seems that it's going to be up to the next generation (our children) to actually be a generation of creators and not straight out biters; we all fill our minds by ingesting the world around us and at times we're unable to avoid mimicking or showing an apparent influence - but the pop crowds and Terra-stars are like a rapidly boiling cauldron (not a melting pot) the masses have cripple the infrastructure of music and fashion and as theirs collapse beneath the weight of tom foolery the crisp clean canvas that awaits like the second coming will be blessed by those with a purest heart and drive to breach uncharted depths of perception. They of course will use the same fabrics, colors and sound textures that have always been used - but hopefully the monotonous musings and benchmarks of their journeys will be saved for the biography after the return of Fresh.
Just ahead is the bridge where the wind beats against our faces, and the tracks meet and the wax melts into reflecting pools of sounds, we play the ear drum with a gut wrench til the butterflies flee entangled in a tango meant to style us back and forth on the rewind
Eerie eerie ear canal against the weathered tracks, listen closely - do you fear that? Stick your fingers in your eyes, now cry again - not what you heard now, is it? Just an ear dart shot from the hip... "digital crates still require fingertips..."
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