I don’t know if Mykki Blanco wants me to take off my clothes in the middle of the dance floor, lead an uprising against Valley-Girl zombies or participate in a queer satanic ritual. After listening to the rapper’s latest mixtape, “Gay Dog Food,” I feel a bizarre desire to do whatever he says. But let me be clear — nothing about this album is enjoyable.
Mykki Blanco, also known as Michael Quattlebaum Jr., piqued the rap community’s interest after he released “Cosmic Angel: The Illuminati Prince/ss” in 2012. His single, “Wavvy,” became a club banger, making Quattlebaum one of the first openly non-straight rappers to develop a widely hetero audience. Through his gender-bending performance and filthy lyrics, Quattlebaum made the bizarre and profane — the queer — tantalizing and mysterious.
“Gay Dog Food,” which dropped Oct. 28, is less tantalizing and more excruciatingly hypnotic, a reverse-exorcism via death-metal-trap beats. None of the lyrics are memorable or interesting; in fact, Quattlebaum hardly raps throughout the album. The “instrumental” intro, “Runny Mascara,” sounds like a mix between a post-apocalyptic video game soundtrack and the sound effects for a sci-fi thriller trailer, complete with the ominous “wooooomp” of any movie with militarized aliens. The intro may inspire the listener to play a first-person shooter before playing the rest of the album.
The second song, “New Feelings,” doesn’t exactly read as a rap, either. Quattlebaum pontificates about his own rap album and spouts vague platitudes about world peace (“I just wish people could understand other people”). The chorus, “I’m too freaky for bitches,” doesn’t yet deliver. The general style of the performance is closer to a P-Funk monologue than a rap, with nowhere near the freak of soul funk band Parliament or even early Mykki Blanco.
Freaks, never fear: The album gets progressively more perverse and disturbing as it continues. But first, Blanco has to punk his entire fanbase with one of the most generic trap songs of all time. “For the Homey’s” is so bad it must be ironic. Like Tyler, The Creator’s “Wolf,” monotonous electro-beats with unoriginal lyrics suggest Blanco is nowhere near serious.
The album progresses into an odd balance of satirical rhymes with a lyrical tone ripe with debauchery, but the monotonous trap with a masochistic message gets old. As opposed to creating more inventive rhythms (think: K.Flay or Angel Haze), Quattlebaum adds a thousand toppings to a bad scoop of ice cream.
Quattlebaum’s gender-bent alter ego Kitty Blanco “totally has a moment” with Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill, the riot grrrl-rock icon of the ‘90s, in “A Moment With Kathleen.” A Hanson-esque pop-rock intro transitions into death bass, with Hanna rambling about archives and campy back-up “doo-doo-doos.” It’s almost completely cacophonous and simultaneously mesmerizing.
The following song, “Cyber Dog,” is a high-pitched Quattlebaum juxtaposed with low-pitched Quattlebaum over a 2006 hyper-rave beat, low 808s and doom synths. It sounds demonic and tongue-and-cheek; in other words, it sounds exactly like Mykki Blanco.
“Lukas” takes the weird over the edge and becomes simply laughable. “Lukas is cool/with all of the queers/but he’s not a fag/oh Lukas” It’s dirty, sarcastic and, with a minor suspension of disbelief, hilarious.
Quattlebaum is inventive when he wants to be, but “Gay Dog Food” doesn’t feel polished. The decision to get progressively weirder as the album continues only works if the original music is inviting in some way. And yet, something about the album keeps me listening. It’s an audible hangover, a consensual possession.
Blanco has us asking ourselves, “Can queer death metal trap work outside of a warehouse in Bushwick or post-apocalyptic video game?”
