Peace Love Weed 3D
Tacoma-bred, Brooklyn-based sampledelic beatmaker Eliot Lipp's sixth album in five years, Peace Love Weed 3D, is one of those odd half-dud/half-gold full-lengths. The first five songs (all tracks clock in at 4:20, LOL) traffic in the sort of '80s electro worship that makes most sensible people question the wisdom of letting in- studio cocaine use go unchecked among musicians and producers during that era. The title track sounds like a score from a TV movie from the Greed Decade whose characters and plot you couldn't take at all seriously. "Proceed" could be a third-tier Prince protégé's obscure B-side from 1982. It possesses those flatulent, glitzy synth timbres and stilted beat programming that trigger memories of awful Reagan-days fashions and regrettable haircuts. Upon my first listen to it, I nearly ejected the disc from the player after track five, "So Stoked," so unstoked was I with Lipp's klutzy rhythms and grating-cheese synth tones.
Luckily, I persevered, as the second half of Peace Love Weed 3D (the four essentials for a good life, right?) kicks substantial ass. With "Calling Me," Lipp finally finds his groove, and it's more sensual and slinky than what preceded it. "Glowstick" delves into the sort of eventful, acidic techno funk that '90s Plus 8 Records group Legion of Green Men purveyed (never thought I'd reference them this late in the game). "Sandcastle" is a languorous electro-funk come-on that should come with at least two condoms, while "Laser Cave" evokes Mantronix's intricate yet robotically funky rhythm matrices. Album finale "Beamrider" injects some hiphop boom-bap and wispy, wistful vocoder action into Tangerine Dream's suspenseful early-'80s soundtrack work. Ultimately, Peace Love Weed 3D makes for a strong EP, no matter on which side of the electro-kitsch fence you bust a move.