Fans of Anticon’s myriad projects seem to have mixed feelings about Doseone’s tangy, laser-fast twang. Surely, those who bought Cold House by English band Hood last year weren’t expecting their lugubrious bedroom pop to be cut by his nasal robotics. And when Themselves’ The No Music came out in 2002, Matt Jost of RapReviews.com described it as “music that communicates in an alien language, or worse even, music that talks to itself.” But whether you think that Doseone’s CD is a wondrous listen or a high-pitched atrocity, you’ve got to agree that the motormouth live is a whole ‘nother story. His eyes glaze, his shoulders rock forward and back in near-smooth spasticity, and his lips move so fast, he may as well have a fat puff of smoke for a maw. In between songs, he attempts conversations with the crowd that are so fractured but true, they usually remain one-sided. So what if only he knows where he’s coming from? We’re the audience, and the fact that we can only guess at Doseone’s MO makes him more than a rapper, more than a singer he’s a Dadaist magician of the most musical order.
Readers’ Pick: Pete Caslavka (Impact Theatre)
