(Creative Vibes)

Wildly eclectic and truly zany only begins to describe Mr. Speed’s off the wall debut. Its freaky DIY laptop aesthetic that marries Benjamin Speed’s mosaic of influences with a unique cut up technique that rips your imagination wide open. Drawing on everything from Beck to Ennio Morricone to the Ninja Tunes back catalogue to even Charlie Kaufman, Mr. Speed goes beyond just breaking boundaries and creates a parallel sonic universe that leaves the Neanderthals of antipodean hip hop behind in a cloud of space dust. Based mostly on subliminal concepts and sub conscious ramblings, The Dreamer is an enthralling aural sketch book and Speed uses his recording experience with hip hop crew The New Pollutants to raise his debut above the usual bedroom banger malarkey.

A lonesome Gallic harpsichord and ethereal triangles curiously open the albums portal, almost sounding like the rolling credits for a Jeunet & Caro film while a distant voice sprouts psycho babble about ‘Unconventional Paradigms’. The sullen crawl and stream of conscious drawl that defines Art Is brings lyrical theory to the table without sounding preachy. Miss Bitty hits the spot early on, Speed wrapping his rhyme in a funkier than thou Steelers Wheel type groove that drives round your cranium like Firebird and the hot step funk of Ready For Action gets fingers frantically clicking with its upright bass swagger and 60’s guitar swing. The mind bending ethnic clatter of You Should Be Dancing conjures bizarre images of B-boys doing the Zorba while Bela Lugosi croons beside a burning trashcan.

Speed twists the albums last half into truly strange realms with quirky instrumentals that shatter the mould and dubby hip hop cuts that are abyss-deep and thicker than nun’s undies. On the End of A String uses a finger waving, 50’s housewife calypso vocal sample over a fat and funky kit to create a truly bizarre jam. The epic Nudity moves from primitive 80’s electro funk to mad hatter party hip hop with ease recalling the best of The Avalanches (although I don’t think even they would have a German Opera break down and climax with a Lucille Ball sing a long mantra of “Eat an apple every day, get to bed by three. You look after your self, you belong to me”). The lame ‘get up stand up’ chant for life and faux aggression of Don’t Waste My Time sounds out of place but the closing Come On makes up for it; all grimy, slimy synth funk that writhes in the swamp and oozes out into a digital mess.

Impossible to classify and stubborn in its will to take you on a deranged musical bender, The Dreamer definitely pushes the boundaries of kitsch and glitch but its plight is a brave one. In an Australian market flooded by singular dimension hip hop that lacks daring and imagination, Mr. Speed’s debut is a diamond in a coal mine. Highly recommended.