Weird things always happen in New South. This place was my home for a year, and though the details are hazy, I know weird stuff happened. Over-eager introductions, muted drinking games, romantic exploits. Not a bad breeding ground for creativity.
Tate and I agreed to meet Saturday morning, so naturally he shot me a text at around 1PM, announcing that he just woke up. Escorted in by this lethargic freshman from Los Angeles, I did my best to avoid the wise, Senior role, “Ah yes, how I too remember this very drinking fountain. She sated me well, she did.” His room, not unlike most rooms in New South, was benefited by the luxury of a sink and decorated with a few clumsy posters.
But when Tate raps, it’s the sound of a hard worker. Careful, deliberated lyricism and punctuated, emphatic delivery. He cares just as much about what he’s saying as how he’s saying it. His writing is born out of impulsion and perfected by patience. He sounds eerily professional spitting into my mic with solo cups and wet towels in the background. He’s excited about his art, really excited, and he’s happy that there are people listening. He’s got plans for a recording session in NYC and a music video in LA. We’re ready for more.
Read about the project Abditum here.
If you want to get involved, email email@example.com and ask for Igor.
NB: Beat Credit on ‘No Future’ goes to Avila Santo