Against conventional wisdom, Blarf proves that comedy—and comedians—belong in music.
Against conventional wisdom, Blarf proves that comedy—and comedians—belong in music. YouTube screengrab from Blarf's "Banana" (Stones Throw)

Blarf, "Banana" (Stones Throw)

Eric Andre is one of the funniest mofos in America. He is also a serious musician who studied double bass at Boston's Berklee College of Music. However, in his undercover guise as Blarf, he largely dispenses with all that high-falutin' learnin'. Instead, Blarf sounds like a combination of J Dilla and Squarepusher—on a fistful of Adderall. For proof, check out his sampladelic splatterfest of a debut album, Cease & Desist. As I wrote in a feature on Andre in September, "Its nine tracks assault you with grotesquely manipulated samples, splenetic beats, noise bombs, R&B parodies, and snippets of spoken-word dialogue. It bears similarities to hip-hop and the crazier end of EDM, but run through a series of fun-house mirrors until all semblance to musical reality descends into recursive madness."

"Banana" is actually one of the least crazy tracks on Cease & Desist, but it's still plenty delirious. Coming off like a Cubist, sample-happy deconstruction by American avant-gardist Carl Stone, "Banana" starts with a riotous Latin rhythm discombobulation, like a Fania All-Stars song put into a blender. Then the Hollywood string section barges in, against all logic, followed by those spastic Squarepusher-esque beats. The baffling coda features Andre (or some other clown) crying over a triumphant fanfare of horns and Lightning Bolt-style drum mayhem. Against conventional wisdom, Blarf proves that comedy—and comedians—belong in music. Listen below