Now is the age of The Fuck-It Factor. There’s no trends to follow. Paris Hilton can take a long walk off a short pier in her stilettos. The world’s a mess, we don’t know who to believe, but we know we can’t give up. So Fuck-It, we just need to all get on up and do ever busts out of our brains at 3 in the morning, waking us out of wild dream where we’re running in whipped cream and tonic.
Freq Nasty is here to deliver our anthem for the future.
That’s exactly where Freq Nasty’s head, mind and body is these days, and he’s reeling you into his world a psychotic nature. It’s the Star Wars bar 2004, with the resurrected Bob Marley in the corner hopped up on too many Red Bulls, Junkie XL flipping cocktails that would make Tom Cruise shudder and cry, and funked up Brooklyn Jazz ensemble decked out in Adidas kicks and jumpsuits.
And boy, does the “Nasty” come out on the steamy track “Clit Licka.” But provocative song titles are not needed when the whole damn CD will heat up any libido with a pulse. This Freq pulls no punches, gets down and dirty just the way we went to as we’re sitting in useless meeting discussing the plights of our bottom line profits. If we could all just shave our hair into a bright red Mohawk and fly away, the world would be a better place. Since that’s not quite a possibility for most of us, at least get the CD to use as an escape from the endless line of cars in front of you as you sit in traffic.
