Most Popular

National Features >

  • SF Weekly

    Identity Plagiarism

    A blogger steals someone else's life story and calls it her own.

    By Ashley Harrell

  • Westword

    Fuel's Gold

    How William Orr's quest for better, cheaper gas became a crime.

    By Alan Prendergast

  • Miami New Times

    Mold Over Miami

    The family of a dead judge blames a creeping fungus in the federal courthouse.

    By Tim Elfrink

  • The Pitch

    McCain Girl

    I worked at Kmart with John McCain's director of strategy.

    By Alan Scherstuhl

ECID

Economy Size goDD Costume

By Nate Patrin

Published on October 24, 2007

ECID

Economy Size goDD Costume
Fill in the Breaks

Ecid's MySpace page is the first thing that comes up when you Google his name, but the third entry might as well be about his music, too—it's a site devoted to an engineering research project titled "Embracing Complexity in Design." In a local rap scene largely attuned to everyman personae, battle-rap refinement, and indie-punk crossover, Ecid's one of the few Twin Cities MCs to go as far as the almost confrontationally abrasive coastal underground rap mainstays on Anticon and Definitive Jux.

But Ecid's design isn't too complex to obscure the meaning of his lyrics, the frustration and disillusionment of which cut closer than a more complacent listener might be comfortable with. "If hip hop was really dead there'd be nobody complaining about it," he cracks derisively in "Crook Cologne." That combination of halfway-idealism and pragmatic cynicism carries over into his disappointment with an unattainable Hollywood-style future in "Re-Seeding Skyline" ("I think I can speak for every single one of us/When I say we've waited long enough for hovering BMWs"), the pitfalls of theology, science, and identity politics in "What Are You Gonna Be for Halloween?" (the chorus: "Okay, I get it/Let's pretend to be somebody else"), and his own shaky psyche in "Moodswing Posterchild".

Production-wise, Economy Size goDD Costume is all minor-key bass, claustrophobic drums, and zombie-film atmospherics, with Ecid's breathlessly manic voice—ranging from a low, seething snarl to an Eminem harangue minus the clownishness—providing the narrative. It's an album worth listening to mostly during those times when you're fucked-up and anxious, and wondering if there's anyone else on that same wavelength.



City Pages Insiders

  • Local food, music and news blasts
  • Free Stuff
Backpage.com