Infinite Livez

    Bush Meat


    What is Infinite Livez on, and where can we get a bag?


    On Bush Meat, the British-born comic-book artist, video game graphic designer and battle champ emcee blends sometimes-grim, sometimes-light electro-beats and mostly ridiculous rhyme for a challenging nineteen-track listen. The result is a bowl of mixed aural hallucinogenics, some of which are rather bitter going down and even more bitter when they come back up. If you’re not nodding your head here, you’re scratching it. And most of the time, it’s the latter.

    Bush Meat is the first proper full-length from Infinite Livez, aka Vinnie Tiefilz, born Steven Henry, but it’s hardly proper. Infinite, whose sidekick on the album is a one-eyed teddy bear called Barry Convex, thrives on improper ideas here, everything from “The Adventures of the Lactating Man” to the bizarrely sexually charged “White Wee Wee.” When he’s not discussing what he calls “man milk” and squirting “milk in her eyes” (“Stop jokin’, I’m a lactating man, take a look, my shirt’s soaking”), he’s spitting bomber-pilot lore over jagged, cosmic beats and swerving madly off melody lane when he comes ’round to sing the chorus.

    These ideas could quite easily find their way into paper treatment from Infinite, if they haven’t already. His warped sense of humor infects every eloquent syllable but meanders along frivolous instrumental clips that sound as if they were compiled on a Casio in an Amsterdam “coffee” shop. Infinite will make a dent here in the United States, but he will probably retain that chic, unheard cool, only peeking his head above ground for occasional major press highlights.

    Infinite’s LP is a displacing, carefree trip through the mind of a pleasantly warped individual. His characters and tall tales are almost as disturbing as the dizzying beats, and when he leads us through his weird cosmos, it sounds unconsciously effortless, but this work is deceivingly intricate. He only seems to be at the cornerstone of what he’s about to bring from out of the basement. Whether or not we have the aptitude to follow it is, well, another story.

    Previous articleGrime
    Next articleRaw Digits